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fireboltsystem · 1 month ago

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ok this is going to be an obnoxiously long ask jsyk ahead of time, i have a lot of little things to say/ask aoejrof. 1. this is our-library's main blog!! for context, since im sure youve seen us in your notifs lmao 2. related apologies for digging through so much of your blog we were really curious about you because weve been following you on sonicaspeed for a long time and we wanted to know more about you! 3. related again im about to ask a LOT of questions that youre totally free not to answer if theyre too invasive, but theyre all things were genuinely curious/confused about, so wed like to at least take the opportunity to ask! 4. i really hope you dont mind us jabbering at you like this too much alejfkfn we tend to yap ^^'

first thing were really interested in is how exactly an endogenic system works, talking as a traumagenic did (as far as we know) system, especially one thats partially endo and partially traumatic as you seem to be. in the past weve gone from negative (due to being around people who were very bitter about endogenic systems when we were first figuring ourselves out) to supporting it and knowing full well they exist but not understanding it, and wed like to go to understanding and supporting it, but thats really hard when we dont really have an example and looking things up, as always, leads nowhere.

this is of course a little more personal, but we wanted to ask about your subsystem a little, partially due to the fact that weve begun to form our own and arent totally sure how to handle them yet; i noticed a mention of a satellite subsystem within the solar subsystem? is that a nested subsystem? im both very curious, baffled, intrigued, and wanting to know in case it comes up for us, but either way, id love to know exactly how that organization works exactly!

and, um...oh, that might actually be all the questions. woopsie. overestimated that a lil, hehe. think we mightve answered some of them for ourselves as we were scrolling through your blog and then TOTALLY forgot that we didnt have as many questions as we did when we first read your pinned post. we did still manage to yap for a While though apwkrjgh hope this finds you well and all that and that you dont mind the long ask and all the notifs!!! were gonna go raid your sonic blog using our main blog to rb now lmao

🌪 - Oh snap hey! No worries about 'spam' it doesn't bother us at all lol.

Response got LONG so I'll throw it under a cut!

Endogenic systems have as wide a variety of experiences as traumagenic systems do, so describing how they "work" generally is kind of impossible KWNFWK. The only thing to keep in mind is that endogenic systems and system members form for reasons other than trauma - maybe they were born that way, maybe it's neurodivergence, maybe it's spiritual beliefs, intentional formation, or any number of other reasons! Not all endogenic systems lack trauma or even disorders - You can be a system and then experience trauma which causes problems for you later on. Or you can experience trauma that doesn't cause plurality in you, and then discover or become plural later, too! If you don't know yet about Pluralpedia, it can be confusing to navigate but has tons of info about different system origins, traumagenic and endogenic alike. Plus lots of other info about plurality as well!

We consider our system to be primarily traumagenic, but with many individual endogenic members. Most of our endo members exist as introjects and come from the process of creating or experiencing art - our brain is just naturally inclined to make headmates out of characters we connect with qkdnskcn.

As for our subsystems: Yeah, the Satellite subsystem is nested within the Solar subsystem. Team Solar consists of me (Zephyr) and everyone from my world, including my own headmates from back then. The Satellite subsystem is the Shadow I know from my world and all of his headmates that basically got carried over with him. That includes Mia - his protector and introject of his sister - and some of the Black Arms that hitched a ride. The Satellite subsystem is a classic "system-within-a-system". They experience shifting fronting patterns and stuff like that just like we do generally, sometimes cofronting/coconsciousness too. The Satellite subsystem is traumagenic, and Shadow is considered the host for them. They have protectors, persecutors, trauma holders, etc that revolve around Shadow, rather than the system as a whole or any other particular member. We think this is because they are his alters specifically!

For the most part, we use subsystems as organizational labels first, just to communicate and remember who is related or connected to who. Shared sources is usually the deciding factor for whether we lump headmates together in a subsystem or not. Headmates that are 'related' in some way tend to be more likely to be close to front for us at the same time, if that makes sense? Like loose package deals. The Satellite subsys is probably the closest thing we have to a traditional Subsystem as described by the general plural community, probably because they were a system before entering this one (and so was I actually!).

In another ask, you added the question "What are 'exomemories'?". Sometimes known as 'pseudomemories' (we don't like that term personally for reasons we'll get into), they're memories of things the body didn't experience. "Memories from outside", exo-memory. For us these can manifest as traumatic flashbacks to source moments, or positive memories of our lives before being in this system, or just basic facts about who we are and our home worlds. I have a TON of exomemories. I'm very close to source and care about it a lot! Since you follow our art blog you probably already know how much of our work is based on exomems akdnwkfsnci. We don't like using the term 'pseudomemory' for ourselves because there's nothing 'pseudo-' about them. They feel just as real as any of my memories of this life and shape who I am even more!

Hope this was interesting and/or helpful! Feel free to send more questions our way if you have any.

-Zephyr

#plurality #endo safe #plural #plural system #pro endo #zephyr.txt #ask

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wolfsp1der · 1 year ago

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#𝚆𝙾𝙻𝙵𝚂𝙿𝟷𝙳𝙴𝚁 : a selective low activity kaeden ' kae ' klein aka wolf spider roleplay sideblog for an original character based in sony's into / across the spider - verse. un - affiliated with earth - 13989's spider - wolf, crossover friendly !

an ode to : terrible, horrible, no good, very bad luck, a good liar's web, and making a home in your own skin. 𝟶𝟼/𝟷𝟷/𝟸𝟹. spun by jean, 23, white, they/any, cst.

prompts. footnotes.

dash rules.

you do not need to be following my main to follow and interact with me over here. however, i do require that i be following you from there before interaction.

000. . . disclaimer.

just a little one ! i am very new to dc + marvel comics and find myself often overwhelmed with the amount of issues there are to read. i’ve got the spirit, but i may or may not know the basics about your muse when it comes to comic based portrayals. i apologize in advance, but it’s nothing a little plotting can’t fix, so if i pop into your ims with stupid questions about your muse, this is why. but as always, if you’re still down to clown, i am very much too !

001. . . activity.

i'll be frank : i write pretty sporadically, and this goes for ic and ooc interactions. i can get overwhelmed juggling responsibilities often, and socializing is one of the first things to go. i un / fortunately work 40 hour work weeks, and only get every other weekend off, so my schedule makes consistent activity difficult on top of my focus. if i can successfully plot something with you, i find my muse is sooo much more involved, but i'm contradictorily bad at it due to the reasons above ; it's truly hit or miss, and i understand if that becomes frustrating for any of my partners. sometimes i’ll be able to get out a couple drafts a week, others merely once, or not at all. if i haven’t replied or answered something in a while, please know it’s nothing personal, i’m just taking my time until i feel good about what i can put down. writing is a hobby i enjoy, but if you're looking for a blog with any sort of regularity, this isn't the one for you. i have other rp blogs i try to run as well, therefore i might be very slow on this one at times. i can be quite the flaky rp partner, so i apologize in advance for that and completely understand if my antics [ or lack thereof ] result in an unfollow. if i go longer than two months without activity, i'll try to make a hiatus notice.

002. . . following.

because of the previously stated, i’m also highly selective with who i rp with. i want to not to bite off more than i can chew, and for the sake of pacing myself, my activity will be reserved for mutuals only. if my thread count gets too high for my liking, it's not uncommon that i drop threads, but i will absolutely try and let you know if that happens. duplicates are always welcome <;3 [ let me know if you need me to tag same - muse posts and i’ll be happy to ! ] i regularly go on softblocking sprees to keep my follower count semi - low, but do feel free to re - follow if you feel like the stars merely misaligned for our first bout of mutual following and i'd be very down to give it another shot. on that note, it'll take me a week+ to follow back sometimes, as i like to read through not only rules, but dossiers and verse pages, especially for ocs, so it can take a hot minute.

003. . . etiquette.

the basics ; don’t be an asshole, any transphobia, biphobia, homophobia, racism, whitewashing, pro - shipping, incest, etc, will be blocked on sight. no godmodding, please cut your threads, continue asks in new posts, etc, and no stealing of any personal concepts of mine. loose inspiration is fine, but if i see repeated similarities, i may or may not approach you about it. formatting - wise, here is an example of my prose style. i primarily use big ol’ text and static or no icons, beta editor + xkit rewritten, but feel free to format however you like and i’ll try to match you somewhat. since my concussion, however, i will no longer be threading with super small text or anything heavily formatted, as this can strain my eyes and make headaches worse, even with my glasses.

004. . . shipping.

i’m all about exploring meaningful dynamics, whether they be platonic, familial, antagonistic, pre - established, etc, so feel free to shoot me a message if you’d like to plot something out between our muses ! while the mun of this blog is 18+, smut just really isn’t my thing ; referenced ‘ offscreen ’ as it were is fine, as are nfsfw headcanons and such, maybe fade to black / time skips, but for the most part, you won’t find any roleplayed smut on this blog. this of course is muse dependent and does not apply to any underage muses. romance is fine to some degree, but again, if they are a child, anything beyond lighthearted and innocent experiences are off limits, no exceptions. if i see you’ve aged up a minor character for shipping purposes, it will result in an instant unfollow. if at some point i flesh out adult verses for them, these shipping rules will not change. on that note as well, i do prefer to rp with muns who are also 18+. i don’t see your age somewhere in your rules or pinned, it will affect my willingness to follow.

005. . . memes.

memes from anyone, anytime, for the muse or for the mun, are always welcome, and often a go - to ice breaker of mine since starter calls make me nervous. please don’t hesitate to send a good handful since i try not to cage myself into answering ones i just don’t have muse for. i find if i force stuff, i’m just less likely to ever actually get it done, so don’t feel like you’re overwhelming me if you send more than just a couple for me to choose from. please remember to specify which muse your asks are for unless it’s to one of my sideblogs. if you want to start a thread from an ask, i greatly encourage it since i try to write most answers as potential starters anyway ! lastly, any memes in my tag aren't expired. if i don't want them sent in anymore, i'll delete them from the tag.

006. . . triggers.

this blog leans horror - adjacent in many ways, and this blog will be portraying that accordingly, including trigger - heavy content such as : depression, ptsd, panic attacks, body horror, violence, murder, kidnapping, abuse / neglect, animal death, horror elements, expirimentation, death / resurrection, religious imagery, etc, but i will try to tag it as ‘ trigger // ’. on that note, please do keep in mind : any abuse present on my blog will be in headcanons or backstories, never actual threads. if i’m writing with villain muses, physical harm may be present, but i refuse to roleplay any domestic / animal / harm or abuse in any form. my personal triggers are visual eye gore, visual self harm, and visual vomit. please do feel free to say something if i forget to tag a post and i’ll try to tag it for you right away !

whew. all that said, i'm jean, 23, white, and i use they/any pronouns ! thank you for taking the time to read my rules, and rest assured if i follow you, that means i’ve read through yours as well <3 discord is available for mutuals upon request.

007. . . blogroll.

enslaughts. a medium activity horror - heavy multimuse. dvrast. a selective jesper fahey. low activity. follows from enslaughts. wolfsp1der. an original spider - person. low activity. wayfares. a selective western multimuse. hiatus. greatloss. a selective slow five hargreeves. hiatus. clericlost. a selective slow william byers. hiatus. mindsflayed. a selective slow mind flayer + vecna. hiatus. follows from clericlost.

#pinned.#spiderman rp #superhero rp

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dvrast · 2 years ago

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#𝙳𝚅𝚁𝙰𝚂𝚃 : a selective slow jesper fahey roleplay blog for the character featured in leigh bardugo’s six of crows. sideblog to enslaughts. duology based + compliant, netflix influenced. headcanon heavy. an ode to caged birds. fabricated 04/18/23. cherished by jean, 23, white, they/any.

guidelines. dossier. playlist. pinterest.

dash rules. . .

you do not need to be following my main to follow and interact with me over here. however, i do require that i be following you from there before interaction.

001. . . activity.

002. . . following.

003. . . etiquette.

004. . . shipping.

005. . . memes.

006. . . triggers.

many of my muse has canonically been through some messed up stuff, even if he would never admit it out loud, and this blog will be portraying that accordingly, including trigger - heavy content such as : anxiety, c - ptsd, panic attacks, general repression, gun violence, internalized prejudice, neglect, body horror, gore, murder / death, criminal activity, etc, but i will try to tag it as ‘ trigger // ’. on that note, please do keep in mind : any abuse present on my blog will be in headcanons or backstories, never actual threads. if i’m writing with villain muses, physical harm may be present, but i refuse to roleplay any domestic / animal / harm or abuse in any form. my personal triggers are visual eye gore, visual self harm, and visual vomit. please do feel free to say something if i forget to tag a post and i’ll try to tag it for you right away !

007. . . blogroll.

enslaughts. a medium activity horror - heavy multimuse. dvrast. a selective jesper fahey. low activity. follows from enslaughts. wolfsp1der. an original spider character. low activity. wayfares. a selective western multimuse. hiatus. greatloss. a selective slow five hargreeves. hiatus. clericlost. a selective slow william byers. hiatus. mindsflayed. a selective slow mind flayer + vecna. hiatus. follows from clericlost.

#navigation.#grishaverse rp #six of crows rp #shadow and bone rp #jesper fahey rp #indie rp #indie grishaverse #fantasy rp

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herohawks · 4 years ago

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tattoo/actor!au part 0

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

so i received an ask in my inbox about dabi’s relationship with his siblings in this au, and i felt like i couldn’t really answer that unless i explained dabi’s bkg first and it got really outta hand so imma put it under the ‘read more’ cuz it’s a long one <3

It’s safe to say that Dabi’s relationship with his father is incredibly self-destructive at worst, and plain unhealthy at best. Before Shouto had come along, it’d been Touya bearing the entirety of their father’s expectations. Commercials, cameos, “Distressed Child #4” -- no role was off limits for Touya; his father is desperate to propel Touya into stardom, convinced that the earlier Touya makes a name for himself, the better his chances of surpassing living legend Yagi Toshinori.

Enji is nothing if not persistently tenacious. Within two years of Touya’s debut, he lands a prominent role as a troubled child of a single mother, struggling with her own sense of self-worth while also navigating the treacherous waters of motherhood. The film itself doesn’t break any box office records, but the critics shower nothing but praise for Touya’s performance. It’s the breakthrough performance Enji had been waiting for.

Touya’s entire childhood and early adolescence is spent being shepherded from one role to the next with no breaks in-between. He becomes resentful of everything: his father, for forcing him into this life; his siblings, Natsuo and Fuyumi, for getting an invisible pass out of showbiz because Touya’s already done it for them; the acting business, for allowing a child to give up his childhood for monetary gain; the fakes, who see the hand shaped bruises on his arms and neck, the bandages, the cuts (old and new, intentional and unintentional) and say nothing and look the other way; the fans and masses, for enabling the system that put Touya in this position in the first place.

He hates everyone and everything, but most of all, he hates himself. At thirteen, he’s sneaking cigs and booze from his older co-stars. They laugh when he sputters and coughs from his first drag, too wrapped up in themselves and their own problems to worry about the possible repercussions of giving a barely-teenager some cigarettes and cheap alcohol. At fourteen, he loses his virginity to some sleazy thrice married sixty-eight year old producer who tells him he’ll give Touya the part if he does this for him (Touya doesn’t get the part, and is too numb to care). By fifteen, he’s lost count of all the drugs he’s done and the people he’s slept with, willing to pop any pill, shoot any drug, and snort anything anyone gives him. Anything to escape his life for a few moments.

Enji is not a dumb man. He knows what Touya’s doing, and he’s livid. Touya’s destroying their hard work, can’t he see that? Touya has an obligation to the people to be better. He needs to clean up his act. But the more Enji tries to corral Touya back, the more Touya struggles to break free. He does more illegal shit and gets the added benefit of pissing off his old man even more. It’s not like his dad can make a scene about it lest he ruin his own reputation.

Touya goes on a binge. He doesn’t show up for filming, is fired, then subsequently rehired when he sleeps with the very much married director. It’s fine, until the news breaks: a picture of Touya making out with the director on a non-descript balcony. It’s nothing short of an absolute scandal. Touya is ecstatic, because finally they - everyone - knows what a fuck up Touya is, and everyone can stop pretending that he’s this great actor with a bright future ahead of him. He’s finally free.

Except, it doesn’t go that way at all. The director is pulled from the movie, and the media has a field day following the court proceedings. Enji hires the best law firm in the country to spin this how he wants: the director as the disgusting predator who preyed on his hapless, helpless, innocent son who is also very much a minor. The mass eats it up, sending well wishes and starting support groups in Touya’s name. Everything is about to be swept under the rug, and Touya cannot let that happen.

He goes to parties now to make sure the paparazzi notice him. He makes sure he’s seen in the most incriminating positions possible that leave no room for doubt of what he’s doing. He gets his stomach pumped, his dad throws him into a rehab and gives him an on-call therapist, even tries to instill a curfew and restrict his access to the outside world. It doesn’t work. The scandals, old and new, come out one after the other like a line of dominoes. Todoroki Enji’s carefully built plan is crumbling around him, and Touya revels in its destruction.

Suddenly, there’s a shift. There’s only so much defamation one individual can take before people begin to wonder how deep it runs. The scrutiny turns to their family and the limelight Touya never wished for is thrust onto his other siblings. They speculate why Natsuo seemingly skipped class to go to the mall with his friends (it’d been a school trip). They ask why Shouto is constantly in and out of the hospital - perhaps his mother is neglecting him? They ogle at what a fine young woman Fuyumi is growing to be, just look at how “well-developed” she is for her age!

It makes Touya sick. Because it’s one thing for him to be judged, tried, and executed for being fed up with his life; it’s another for the rest of his family to take the blame for Touya’s fuck ups. It’s not fair. He wonders if everyone’s life would be better without him in the picture.

Once the idea is planted, it steadily takes root. There’s no running from who he is, but if he leaves, wears a different look and changes his name, abandoning his old life to start a new one - it might just work. With the trouble child gone, his family could breathe again and not have to worry about all of Touya’s screw ups reflecting back on them. His dad had worked so hard to build Touya up that he’d neglected Fuyumi and Natsuo; Touya thinks it’s safe to assume Enji would consider it too late to throw them into the business now. Shouto’s young enough, but Touya hopes that with how much of a failure he’s proven to be, that their old man will just throw in the towel and leave his little brother alone.

So Touya, armed with shitty boxed hair dye and a backpack of his belongings, leaves the acting business behind.

#so first i want to apologize for the lack of consistent formatting in all of these #i think it's because i didnt...expect it to get this big??#it just keeps expanding and im sooo happy that people like this too but now i actually have to kinda format to keep things straight ahaha #also!! i see your 'asks' guys and it makes me so freaking happy you guys like this au too #just know that the reason im not responding right away is bc im probably writing a novel to answer your question or hc #so pls be patient and keep sending me those hc because i love them sm <3 <3 #thank you <3 #dabihawks #bnha #tattoo/actor au #dabi #hawks #bnha au

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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cousinwingding97 · 4 years ago

Text

Silver Memories

Chapter One: Clean Slate

3,000 words of female reader and Din Djarin slow burn with the reader just waking up and realizing she has no idea who she is. This will be part of a series I am working on. The first few chapters won’t have a lot of Din and will be a little fast paced because of the situations, but there will be more interactions later on! I am new to posting to tumblr and I had a bit of trouble with the formatting from one device to another, so I apologize if it looks weird. I would love feedback and constructive criticism if anyone would like to offer some! Thanks and enjoy!!

Warnings: some light violence and little blood.

The inky blackness of unconsciousness and separation from awareness of oneself was split apart by a bright light. There were sights and information, all processed slowly. The realization of waking up to unfamiliar surroundings sent a jolt of fear throughout the body. An intuitive human concept that even those with no memories before this moment would know.

There were basic memories. Words, concepts, ideas that were inside the brain. As eyes roamed around and becoming fully awake took hold, the concept of “you” was elusive, but took hold enough to register that you were someone and you were alive.

Yes, those were your fingers splayed out in front of you and that was your body on the floor, but no memories of just who you were and what you were doing came to mind. You didn’t even know how you got here. Why were you on the cold, sterile ground and why did your head hurt.

Looking at your body, you were dressed in thin cargo pants and ripped shirt. Barely enough to keep the cold out of your bones. There wasn’t any blood or visible wounds. Where am I?

From what your eyes could see, you seemed to be in a cell. Not a hospital room like you were hoping. There was no view of the outside, no obvious view of escape, not even any panels where a door would be. This was not a safe place. There was no sense of comfort in the room.

The cell was a blinding white that hurt the eyes to look at for too long after the more familiar darkness. As if that wasn’t enough, the ceiling above had multiple electronics and burnt wires hanging from the ceiling. The smell of and constant beeping was making your head throb. Your heart rate was already through the roof and the new sights and smells you were experiencing made you want to recede back into the darkness to escape the life that was already painful for some unknown reason. If this was a cell and you were in pain, it was a decent bet to say that you were not safe.

There was a sound that started to echo in your skull, louder than the annoyingly high-pitched beeps. A persistent thunk, thunk that you couldn’t tell if it had been there the whole time or just started. Fear told you it was your death coming for you, but your lack of memories didn’t leave you trusting anything at the moment. Even yourself. Maybe it was a rescue instead.

There were muffled voices coming from the same place as the source of the loud sounds outside of your cell.

“Cara, that’s not working. Try something else!”

“Well how bout you try since you’re so smart! Use that new sword thingy that you won!”

There was a sudden hum and a beam of light was slicing a makeshift door panel through the wall in front of you. The smell of burning material reached your nostrils. There wasn’t any place to hide and you weren’t sure if there was a reason to be afraid or not.

The newly made door fell with a giant, echoing thud. Steam from the red-hot metal blocked your vision, but you could see the outline of five figures and one in the middle; the forefront middle figure was the one with the blade of dark light that had somehow cut through to make a door. You started crawling as far as you could go in the small cell until your back was against the wall. was against the wall.

Two figures came into your cell and the rest stayed outside of it. Most of them had visored helmets that stared back at you without emotions. The group consisted mostly of women; one inside your cell and three more outside of it. The one inside looked bigger than most of the others with arms that looked like they could crush your skull. Another had a smirk and air of what you could only think of as confidence and superiority. The others were all armored in blue with the lifeless helmets. Including the one in the back next to the other blue ones, but this one was a male.

The quick glances of each member of your perhaps rescuers didn’t spark any recognition. The one directly in front of you triggered a fear unlike any you had felt thus far. He didn’t look like the other three blue armored ones. He towered over you and his shiny, silver armor practically blinded you with the lights bouncing off of it. He held the saber in his hand with a spear on his back. The black “T” visor stared at you with such intensity that you looked away with embarrassment. When he finally spoke, it was an unfamiliar word in the form of a question. You looked up at him in confusion. He repeated it, but you didn’t understand what he was saying. Then he crouched in front of you. He reached out and you instinctively flinched back. His hand dropped, but his helmet tilted up towards the wires above your head. “Cara, look up.”

The tall, muscular woman looks up and you do as well to see the wires that you noticed earlier. They look fried and like they might have blood on them.

“Is that what I think it is?” Cara seems to almost growl out the words. She looks back at you and again the unfamiliar word was spoken, “Do you remember us?”

Your puzzlement must have been evident. The silver helmeted one in front of you shook his head, “No, she doesn’t. She doesn’t even know her name.” His words were grounded out like he was holding back his rage. Before you had time to question anyone, he grabbed your arm and hauled you out of the cell.

The ground began to shake and you knew that was not a good sign. One of the blue helmets called out behind you, “Hurry! The ship is going to blow soon!” The hand around your arm tightened as the silver helmet pulled you along faster.

“Wait, what’s going on? What ship?” You asked no one in particular. You tried to keep up, but the constant new tidbits of information and pounding in your head made everything spin. You didn’t know these people, but they knew you. Whether they were friends was still uncertain. They did seem to be taking you out of the cell at least.

“No time! We’ve gotta get out of here, now!” You weren’t sure who said it. The ground shook again and you stumbled. The silver man grabbed you and hauled you over his shoulders like you weighed nothing. You had a view of the others and you could fully see their features and clothes now. You still didn’t recognize anyone. No hint of familiarity at all; yet, here you were, being taken away by them. They looked like a ragtag team. Not uniformed and from the same places. Still, none of them felt familiar. You didn’t feel any sort of tie to these people. Shouldn’t you if they knew you, though?

Suddenly, there were sounds and lights flashing and what looked like lasers flying by. Now we are being shot at?! Were people trying to keep you safe by shooting at this group or were they trying to kill you too? You still had no idea. You couldn’t see the people shooting at you.

The hallways were long and all looked similar to the last. You didn’t know how many you had turned down, you lost count. The group took care of anyone in the way and all you saw were more helmeted people in white armor. They all looked the same. Were they a part of the group you were with now? They were wearing helmets and armor that looked similar from what you could tell.

The man holding you was a little rough while trying to fight off whoever these new peole were. Bouncing you around and running as fast as he could. There were times he hid around corners and shot at others, but before you could get your bearings, he would be off again. The others were just as quick and efficient. The one named Cara was even using her fists at some points on anyone who got too close. If these people were your enemies, you were pretty sure you were screwed on any chance of escape.

Finally, the halls give way to a large room that holds ships and multiple dead bodies. It looked like your possible kidnappers or rescuers had been here already. You lean your head around to see a white ship with what look like wings folded up and with its ramp down already. One side of the wings looked damaged, but that didn’t stop the group from running up the ramp just as you hear a large boom in the background.

The man holding you finally puts you down and heads to what you assume is the cockpit. You stand there awkwardly trying to make your head stop spinning.

The others take up positions defending the ship while the ramp slowly ascends. Cara is the one closest to you. As the ramp finally shuts completely and you feel the ship lift, she takes this moment to finally look you over at you. Her eyes seem to assess you once over and her face scrunches up. She finally speaks to you, “Are you alright? Your head looks like it has been bleeding.” What?

The others have gathered around and now they are staring at you. You feel surrounded and your breathing is picking up, quickly. With tentative fingers, you reach up to your hair and as soon as they touch your head, pain explodes within you. The world tilts again and it wasn’t from the ship. The last thing you see are your bloody fingers and an orange gloved hand reaching for you.

_________________________________________

Again, inky blackness like the darkness of space was what greeted you into the land of the living. You try to gently open your eyes, but the sudden bright light is too much for your pounding head. Instead, you let your body tell you your surroundings.

You were on a bed with a thin mattress and scratchy blankets. You were propped up and you could feel something in your nostrils. The pain was less than when you blacked out, but still present. Your whole body throbbed in sync with your heartbeat and the pounding in your head.

There were voices again. This time they whispered furtively.

“They did something to her. I think they mind wiped her.” The voice sounds almost robotic and spoke softer without as much as emotion as the next voice.

“You don’t know for sure, Mando. Maybe they just tried to overload her brain and kill her before we could find her.”

The filtered voice speaks again, “She didn’t respond to her name.”

“She does have a head injury. She could just be confused. That doesn’t mean a lot. There was a lot of confusion during the escape, so maybe she just had trouble getting her bearings.”

There is a pause before the filtered voice softly admits, “She flinched away from me. There was fear in her eyes when she saw me.”

The other voice sounded like the one called Cara. She grunted with an unconvinced response, “Like I said, her head trauma. What did the medics say?”

The one called Mando let out a sound of a sigh. “Nothing yet. Until she wakes up, they can’t tell anything for certain.”

From what you could infer, you guessed that you had been mind wiped. There was no other explanation. Loss of every single memory up to the moment you woke up? There was no way it could just be head trauma. Right?

The questions swirled in your head making your consciousness swirl your brain around like wine in a glass. Who did this to me though? And why? Were these people rescuing me or trying to get me for their own reasons?

“So, what are you going to do? The whole Republic is going to be after us since we broke Mayfield out and we were near Imperials again. We haven’t exactly been following their rules. Working with Fennec and Boba definitely didn’t help our case.”

Mando sighs heavily, “I don’t know. Everything has changed. I don’t even have a ship for kriffing sake. That Imperial shuttle barely got us here and Bo-Katan is claiming that as her ride. Plus, the Republic would follow us insistently if we galivanted around in that ship. I can’t really ask Boba for a ride for the exact same reason. I’m out of favors with him anyway after giving Grogu to the Jedi. I’m out of options, so I’m just going to have to guard her for now.”

The concept of Republic was not totally unfamiliar. You knew it to be a source of government (as a definition in the recesses of your mind), but you didn’t know if they were a trustworthy kind or not. If these people were wanted for breaking someone out of what sounded like a prison, though, they couldn’t be the good guys. That and from the sound of things, they hung out with some sketchy people. You also didn’t like the sound of being guarded by the filtered and faceless voice. These people must have wanted you for something. Maybe whoever held you was trying to make it more difficult for these people.

The voices finally died off and you slowly open your eyes again, testing to see if you could handle it this time. You were on a medical table with monitors next to you and other machines. The feeling in your nostrils came from some tubes that you assumed were for oxygen. There wasn’t anyone in the room and the glass walls on one side showed that no one was right outside of your room either.

I should get out of here while I can. These people are dangerous.

You probably couldn’t fly, maybe you could, but you couldn’t remember. The best hope you had was hopping onto a ship and flying far away. If there were any ships nearby, at least.

You gingerly lifted yourself off the bed and onto the floor. Your white medical clothes were thin and the cold floor on your bare feet did not help the sudden rush of a chill running through your body combining with your discomfort from your circumstances.

Honestly, you had no idea what you were going to do or what the best choice would be. Even if these people had the answers, could you trust them? Would someone come looking for you? Was anyone left in your life that cared about you that would want to find you? What would you do for survival?

Forcing yourself to put the questions aside for now in order to get a move on, you did your best to silently leave the room into the hall beyond.

The halls outside your room made you pause. They had massive glass panels imbedded into metal frames giving the occupants a complete view of the surrounding area. It was a smaller facility than you thought it would be. The view was absolutely stunning! This place was on what look like an asteroid with a force field surrounding certain areas to allow breathing. The facility was within a crater of the asteroid and there were small rocks gently floating around the lip of the crater, but after that? Nothing but stars. You could see the edge of the asteroid that looked like you could fall off the edge into a sea of inky blackness and become one with the stars. Just float away from everything.

The stars surrounded you and you felt small. In a comfortable way. A reminder that everything was small compared to the sky above, honestly, you couldn’t help but stop and stare. For all you knew, this was the first time you had seen anything like this and if you were going to be creating new memories, then this was one you wanted to hold onto.

You could see platforms further within the crater with ships coming and going. Droids along with some aliens that you couldn’t identify were carrying supplies on and off ships in the small forcefields over the platforms. That was your escape.

You could see your path to it from the hallway. It wasn’t far. You just had to make sure you weren’t caught. Hope flooded your system with this new information.

Tearing yourself from the view, you briskly walked down the hall. You peered around the corner of the intersection and saw nothing in your way to the right. On your left were some droids gently floating and working on stacking crates. You made pains to quietly sneak past them.

There were a few close calls on your way to the closest platforms. Some of the aliens (or locals if you thought about it), pale-faced things with round grey eyes and no mouths, scurried past you, but you hid behind crates and outcroppings of metal archways before they could spot you.

A central hub of activity was close to the landing platform. It looked like where people could rest, eat and talk and just your luck there were familiar faces, or helmets, in the area. You froze when you saw the silver helmet glint in the artificial light. Mando, if you remembered correctly. He hadn’t spotted you, yet, since he was talking to Cara and one other blue armored person. They seemed to be in deep enough conversation that you could sneak away to the platform. A part of you hesitated one last time and you felt a pull towards them. You truly did not know if this was the right option. This was your last chance to walk up to them and maybe get some answers if you gave them the chance.

That thought was cut short when you saw Mando roughly grab a blue armored male warrior and shake him a little. The conversation was getting heated and Cara was trying to separate them when a woman with red hair and woman with black hair intervened by pushing Mando off the other male. Cara grabbed the red heads arms to keep her from making another move.

They seemed a little too prone to violence you suddenly decided. If that was how they treated their teammates or whatever they were to each other, then why put yourself among them? With that, you decided you were not going to risk that.

Walking away from the scene and to the hanger bay brought a better sight than what you just witnessed. Luck must have been on your side because the ship looked like it had been fully emptied and only the crew were hanging around. There were plenty of crates around the edges of the platform. If you could just find an opening for getting on the ship, maybe you could find a hiding place once aboard. It was a lot of open space until then, unfortunately, and who knew how much time you had.

The crew was sitting on the ramp and conversing. They looked like you with normal hands and feet. Smooth skin without any horns or extra appendages, so maybe you would be able to communicate if you got caught.

You saw your opening when they all started filing onto the ship. The engines started to hum with life. You broke from your cover and ran to the hatch. You grabbed it as it was starting to pull back into the ship and lifted yourself on it, rolling over the lip onto the other side.

Thankfully, no one heard or saw you. The ship was large enough that the crew must’ve gone to their stations already. You breathed a sigh of relief before starting to look for a hiding place.

Most of the ship was dedicated to cargo space, that was now empty, or stations you knew crew would visit. You found the darkest corner in the cargo area and gently moved one box to be in front of you, effectively sealing you off from being seen.

Now, you could rest and properly think without the most recent madness. Even with the blackouts, things had been moving so quickly that you hadn’t had a chance to truly stop and think.

Step one: complete. Now what do I do?

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soaimagines · 4 years ago

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small worlds

an EZ Reyes Fanfiction

Chapter One

Pairing: Eventual Ez Reyes x Ilana Ortiz (OC)

Summary: When Ilana Ortiz left Charming she never thought she would be wrapped up in the life of another motorcycle club. But when she runs into an old friend she finds she’s already in deeper than she thought.

OR Juice’s little sister falls for a Mayan

Word Count: 2238

Warnings: language, mentions of death, mentions of grief, trash writing? 18+ as always, soa spoilers? i guess.

Authors Note: I’ve had this idea for a while now and I’ve finally written it. Thank you as always to my sweet friend @juniperjane for being my beta and reading through the dozens of drafts i sent u. u da bomb

Disclaimer: i do not speak espanol, and try to use it sparingly and respectfully. if i have failed to do so please let me know, i mean no offense.

Tags: @minnicelli • @ifoundmyhappythought • @noz4a2 • @svintsandghosts • @rebel-without-cause-x • @i-shouldbepainting • @lady-pswrld • @spookys-girl • @multiyfandomgirl40 • @gemini0410 • @starrynite7114 7• @everyhowlmarksthedead

if you want to be added to the taglist let me know

There was always something slightly ominous about a gas station at midnight. A place that was usually hustling with travellers stocking up, refueling their tanks and heading off in search of their own adventures. But as the light of the day was replaced with the unrelenting darkness of night, Ilana Ortiz found herself alone, as she often did. She raised her hand, stifling a yawn as her gaze flickered to the petrol pump, eyeing the numbers as they rose. The hum of the pump pouring petrol into the tank of her car sputtered to a stop and she lifted the nozzle, shaking off the remains before returning it to the hook.

In the distance she heard them. Steadily growing louder as they approached. She knew the sound all too well, once the soundtrack of days spent in happiness all those years ago. The thunderous drone approached and she closed her eyes, basking in the memories that flooded her. Crashing into her mind like waves, dragging her out into the deep. Her fingers grasped the locket hanging around her neck and she took a deep breath as she opened her eyes. The breeze shifted, blowing a strand of dark hair across her face and she watched as they approached.

Half a dozen motorcycles, most of them low riders, spread out in a staggered formation as they thundered down the highway, with only the open road laid bare before them. One by one they sped past her, and Lana couldn’t help but think of them as ghosts from her past, the faces that would be forever etched into her memory haunting those of the strangers that rode before her now. The darkness of night hindered her ability to make out the patches on the riders backs, but they were there, their presence ever looming.

There was once a time where the presence of a motorcycle club had been a welcoming sight, surrounding her with a feeling of warmth and belonging, rather than the emotional sorrow that she felt deep in her soul. But those times were just memories now, chapters in a dark and lonely book that she didn’t have the strength to read again and so she closed it tight and left it to gather dust.

It took a few months for Ilana to settle into Santo Padre. Slowly, the shelves in her small apartment were filled with various ornaments that she gathered from local market stalls and thrift stores. While it was far from the apartment of Lana's dreams, it was affordable and in a reasonably good neighbourhood, and for now, at least, it was home.

She didn't have a lot of personal possessions, had never been one for materialistic items. There were only two things that she took with her wherever she went. The first, was the locket around her neck. Inside lived a black and white photo of her late mother, wearing a smile that had been passed on to her children. The second was a photograph, its edges frayed and worn. In it stood two siblings, matching smiles on their youthful faces as they stood beside each other, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Juan Carlos and Ilana Rose Ortiz.

For as long as she could remember it had been the two of them. After their mother passed away they only really had each other and when Juan had decided to leave Queens and move to California, Ilana had been right by his side.

There was something about the small town of Charming, and the people that lived there that beckoned to the Ortiz siblings. And it was there that they made a home. Ilana found a job doing admin work at the local hospital, whilst Juice worked at the local garage.

After a few months he had told her he was prospecting for the Sons Of Anarchy, and she hadn’t exactly been thrilled. It was a dangerous lifestyle, and she couldn’t lose the only person she had left in this world. Juan had tried to put her mind at ease. He told her they would be safe, that they would look out for him and he would look out for them. He told her they would be happy here. And they were, for a while.

Slowly this band of misfits and outlaws truly did become family, a concept that had once felt so foreign. They finally belonged somewhere, and they were finally happy. But nothing lasts forever.

She couldn't quite pinpoint the moment things went wrong. But something changed when the Sons of Anarchy did their fourteen month stint in Stockton State Penitentiary. Things were changing, and none of them could have predicted just how dark things would turn.

Soon, the club that had once seemed so solid, so welcoming, turned into something dark and bitter and it fell apart at the seams. The binds that tied them were thick with betrayal and mistrust and she could only watch as one by one they fell like dominoes.

Whilst Ilana had spent years in Charming, she never pretended to know all the ins and outs of the club's business. Nor did she want to know. She knew there were rules, and ways in which certain things had to be handled. But above all else, she knew her brother. And she knew he didn't deserve what happened to him.

After the loss of her brother, Ilana spent a long time in that first stage of grief. In denial that this world could be so horribly cruel. Everything she had ever known had been ripped from her and she didn't know what she was supposed to do next; The town was too small for all the ghosts that lived in it and everywhere she looked, she saw death and pain. Memories of once joyful times turned to rot. And so she left.

She spent the next few years travelling, never staying in one place too long. To some people it may have looked like she was running away from her pain and those people weren't wrong. But Ilana liked to think of herself as an explorer, living out the adventures she had read about in the books of her childhood.

Eventually she grew weary of living out of her suitcase, and she found herself homesick, yearning for a home that no longer existed. She found solace in the sunshine state, and when a job opportunity presented itself in Southern California she took it. She found herself an apartment, albeit a rather shitty one, but it was somewhere to live nonetheless and Ilana found comfort in having a consistent income and a familiar place to lay her head.

Ilana smiled at the market stall vendors as she passed them by, gazing over the varieties of fresh produce they displayed so vibrantly. She purchased a selection of vegetables and fruit, slowly filling the woven basket in her hands. A display of fresh mangoes caught her gaze and she looked them over, picking out the ones she would buy.

“Miss Ilana?”

At the mention of her name, she turned.

“Chucky?”

Chuck Marstein wasn’t a face that was easily forgotten. Although, it was probably more to do with his distinct lack of fingers and his mechanical hands than his actual face, which was often apprehensive.

Four years had passed since they had seen each other, and he was aware that the way in which they were once acquainted had been the root of her sorrow. He looked at her nervously, as if he expected anger from her. But that anger he had grown to expect from people didn’t exist in Lana, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Chucky!” The grin on her face matched his, her eyes sparkling with the threat of tears. “What are you doing here! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Since your brother's funeral.” He nodded.

Lana nodded along with him, finding slight amusement in Chuckys lack of filter. Most people tip-toed around the mention of her brother, but not him.

“You left Charming?”

“Si,” The sadness that flashed in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed. But Lana knew all too well that things in that small town, and in that life, were often complex, and now wasn’t the time to pry.

“But you’re okay?” Lana asked softly. “You’re working?”

“Si, mamacita.Romero Brothers Scrap and Salvage yard. I am always working hard” He rolled his ‘r’s excessively and Lana smiled at the familiar rhyming, as if his sentence was his own catchphrase.

“And what are you doing here?”

“I got a job doing admin work in town. It's not much, but it pays the bills.”

His phone rang out loudly, and Chucky flashed her a look of apology.

“Yello?”

Ilana hid her smile as he answered the call, looking away to give him some privacy. They had been close once, back in Charming. She had spent a lot of time at the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse, helping out Gemma in the office as she needed it. More often than not she was paired with Chucky to run errands, and she had enjoyed getting to know him. He was quirky, in many ways, but he was a kind soul and all he really wanted was to belong, something which resonated with Ilana.

“Absolutamante,” He said, and ended the call.

“I have to go, Miss Lana. Duty calls.”

Lana nodded understandably and held out her hand. “Give me your phone, I’ll put my number in it.”

He nodded, handing the device over and watching as her fingers tapped at the screen.

“Give me a call when you’re free and we can get dinner or something. Catch up, properly.”

“Really?” He asked, in genuine disbelief. “You would want to?”

Lana smiled at him. “Of course, Chucky. You’ve always been one of my best friends.”

The smile that spread over his face was like that of a child on Christmas morning and Lana couldn’t help but beam back at him, her heart warming.

“I will call you, for dinner.”

“I look forward to it, Chucky.”

It wasn’t long before Ilana heard from Chucky again.

In fact it was only that same afternoon that her phone had rung and his voice was on the other end of the line. She was glad to hear from him, albeit a lot sooner than she had anticipated, but she invited him to her apartment for dinner nonetheless.

She was already out in town, and after spotting a sign that read ‘Carniceria Reyes’, she decided to pick up something to cook. With a glance in each direction she jogged across the road before entering the shop.

It was nearing closing time, and Ilana could see that most of the meat had been packed away, or purchased already. Her eyes scanned what was left on offer as her mind ticked over what she could cook, her abilities in the kitchen being far from expert.

“What can I get for you?”

Ilana glanced up and smiled warmly at the wizened man behind the counter. His smile was warm and welcoming, though the creases on his forehead told of worries, both past and present and there was a forlorn glaze in his twinkling eyes.

“Hi, I’ll just take a couple of those steaks, please?”

The man nodded and slid open the window at the back of the counter.

“How’s your day been?” Ilana made conversation as she glanced around the small store.

Her gaze fell on a selection of books and she smiled as she walked over to them.

He cleared his throat. “It’s been good, busy.” The man said as he packaged the meat. He watched her curiously as she studied the old books, and the delicate way in which she traced her fingers over the titles.

“Are these all yours?” She asked, as she carefully lifted a worn copy of Alejandra Pizarnik’s poetry. It had been well loved, made obvious by the creases on the cover, and the yellowed, dog eared pages.

“Most of them belonged to my wife.”

Ilana smiled as she studied the inscription scrawled inside the cover. It was in español, which she couldn’t read despite her Puerto Rican heritage, but she always found something magical in old books, especially those with messages of love or well wishes written inside the cover.

“She has quite a collection.”

The man smiled and nodded towards the book in her hands. “You’re welcome to borrow it.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Please,” He smiled at her. “They should be read, not left here to gather dust and the smell of meat.”

Ilana laughed lightly and nodded, slipping the book carefully into her bag. “Thank you, uh?”

“Felipe.”

Her purchases were ready now, wrapped carefully in brown paper and he placed them on top of the counter.

“Thank you, Felipe.” She smiled as she handed him some cash. “I’m Ilana.”

“Please, keep the change.” She lifted the parcel in her hands as she headed to the door. “It was nice to meat you.”

Felipe chuckled and waved as she walked out of the shop, shaking his head at the interaction.

“Who was that?”

Felipe looked up to see his son EZ, the same smile on his face as he wore on his own, stepping out from the shadows.

“New customer.” Felipe said as he walked to the door and flipped the ‘open’ sign to closed. “Cmon, Jimenez will be here soon.”

Masterlist

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quickspinner · 4 years ago

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Hi, I kind of have some questions that I’m curious about. Let’s say ML is getting a reboot and you were a writer hired for the show. 1. What would you change? And which episodes would you remove? 2.How would you have written Luka into season 1? 3. How would have made the interactions between Luka and Marinette work? 4. How would you write Lukanette to be endgame?

I feel like this is an essay question on a final exam! 😆 I’m going to have to be general by necessity here or I’d be writing several pages of thesis for weeks. (edit: and even so it is super long and wordy, so just imagine how bad it could have been)

1. What would I change?

Honestly, I don’t think I would change a lot of the basic premise. I like the show and I like the characters as a whole, but I would definitely tweak a few things in the storytelling approach.

a) I would remove some of the restrictions they’ve placed on themselves, such as their commitment to each episode being as stand alone as possible. It’s possible to have continuity and still have an episode format where young kids can jump in at any point and understand what’s going on. You can have character growth and consistent timelines without making it so that anyone who misses an episode is lost, and you can have the occasional two-parter episode if you have a heavy point to make. If this ultimately ends up shifting the target audience a little older, then so be it, although I don’t think it’s especially necessary. I feel like one of the show’s big problems is that they’re trying to tell a story that’s outgrown their framework, and it’s something that should have been planned for from the beginning.

b) I would rework their ‘forumula’ of having Marinette make a mistake and then learn from it. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the idea of ‘each episode should teach a lesson’ but they’re not committed enough to it, and it’s a mistake to think that just because Marinette is the protagonist, she has to be the one making all the mistakes and learning all the lessons. As a result we end up with Marinette suffering for no good reason and apologizing in situations where she did nothing wrong, and the ‘lesson’ she was meant to learn ends up muddled and confusing. It’s okay if not every episode has a lesson. As a parent I don’t ask that every single moment of my children’s entertainment be educational, just that it not be actively harmful, and the current presentation often is thanks to their determination to blame Marinette and the confusing messaging that results. So, follow through with that lesson formula most of the time, but let the appropriate character learn a lesson, and address it more clearly.

Gamer 2.0 is a perfect example. The worst thing Marinette did was disregard Max’s feelings about the tournament so that she could play with Adrien, and they could have acknowledged that while also having Max learn the lesson that sometimes you have to learn to lose gracefully, and that just because effort isn’t rewarded the way you wanted it to be, it doesn’t mean it was without value. Or Reflekdoll; both Juleka and Alya had lessons to learn about communicating clearly and paying attention to other people’s feelings respectively.

c) Expanding from that, I’d have the narrative hold people accountable more equitably across the board. A good 90% of my frustration with Adrien/Chat Noir is that the narrative never holds him accountable for his actions (I’m excluding NY here because I have a whole other essay’s worth of Stuff to say on that, but yes, I will acknowledge that it was at least a minimal step forward towards holding him accountable). What I mean by that is, there is never any doubt that Chloe is behaving badly. There is never any doubt that Lila is not a good person. The narrative makes it clear through their presentations, the other characters’ reactions to them, and the consequences of their actions, that the way they behave is not okay.

Likewise, the narrative never fails to condemn Marinette for her mistakes, often through ridicule and humiliation and sometimes by consequences far out of proportion of her actual mistakes.

Adrien/Chat is never on the receiving end of that. None of the things he does that we’re all so salty about are ever that bad, certainly no worse than many other characters. However, he’s never held to account for it. There’s never any apology, and rarely any consequences. Copycat is maybe the closest episode to holding Chat accountable, but even so there’s no acknowledgement or apology required for Chat himself. Because, as per point b above, Marinette is the one who makes mistakes and learns lessons and so it’s her mistakes that we focus on. I was utterly shocked in Frozer when he leaned forward and told her to use her lucky charm instead of saying “hey, sorry I ran off and left you to face the villain alone, which might have gotten you seriously hurt if I hadn’t happened along in the nick of time.” It wasn’t fair of him to be upset with Ladybug in Siren when she agreed to do what she could to get Fu to fill him in (and followed through) but there was no apology for that either. He was right to be upset but he was mad at the wrong person, and at the end of the day he got what he wanted without actually having to admit that he did anything wrong or unfair, and that’s frustrating. Glaciator came close, when he graciously accepted Ladybug’s rejection, but there was no change after that to drive it home (and he wasn’t held accountable for lying to his friends to ditch their ice cream plan either). Again, none of these things individually make him a bad person or a horrible character, but it’s grating to see him constantly let off the hook, usually with Marinette having to take responsibility instead.

Not only Chat, but Alya as well, and we’ve actually seen Nino do some apologizing so that’s a positive start. Get past the idea that Marinette is the only one who can make mistakes and learn a lesson; the kids will learn it just as well from someone else. Go watch some 80′s cartoons, geeze, they were masters of the morality-based narrative.

Let us see Chat (and others) apologize and then (per point a) improve his behavior, maybe getting upset and caught up in his feelings again but this time recognizing that they have a job to do first. Let everybody grow, instead of pounding on Marinette again and again and again.

d) More time with the side characters. I don’t know how I’d manage it tbh, half an hour is not a lot of time, but I would love to see more of the friendships and especially the art club. Perhaps if the show were less focused on making Marinette the lesson of every episode, there would be more time for the other characters to grow and learn and be explored.

Which episodes would you remove?

I don’t think there are any episodes that I would remove...maybe Party Crasher because that episode was just...weird...but I did like the friendship aspect of it (this is one of those ones where their formula gets muddy and confusing, because...”don’t tell lies and make crappy excuses to your friends” is really what we were supposed to get from that? So, I don’t know if that episode was salvageable. Almost all the other episodes that really give me cringe (hello, Puppeteer 2) contained important moments that could have been delivered in a less upsetting matter if the points above were addressed. Stormy Weather 2 was pretty pointless, but it wouldn’t have been if there had been any actual continuity for a clip show to catch you up on. (while we were chatting today @verfound made a great point though about how Puppeteer 2 could have been used as a clip show as they walked through the wax museum, and I had to agree that would have been much more effective).

2.How would you have written Luka into season 1?

I honestly don’t think I would have? I think he came in at right about the right time. I would have maybe given him a cameo in Reflekta just to set up Captain Hardrock a little more, but other than that, I don’t think it was time for him to come on the scene yet.

3. How would have made the interactions between Luka and Marinette work?

I actually really like how things are now. I would like to see Marinette be more direct and honest with him. Right now, Luka consistently arranges everything so that she never has to admit anything she isn’t ready for. He addresses her feelings without her ever having to bring them up, admit to them, or voice them on her own, and while that’s very kind and I feel like both Luka’s perceptiveness and his kindness and desire to make her comfortable are very central to his character, I would like Marinette tp at some point acknowledge his feelings and her own to his face. Right now their relationship has a level of honesty that I feel like is lacking in most of the others, but it’s mainly due to Luka’s perceptiveness and willingness to be honest himself than it does with anything Marinette’s done, so I’d like to see her exhibit a little more agency there.

4. How would you write Lukanette to be endgame?

Ooof...I mean, I feel like I addressed some possibilities for that in Finding Harmony and in Second Chance. Marinette has to get over her feelings for Adrien, either by recognizing that she’s just ready to let go (Finding Harmony), dating him and letting the relationship come to a natural end (Second Chance), or confessing her feelings to him and being rejected so that she can get through the heartbreak and move on. The push-and-pull situation the show has her in right now was sustainable for a while, and for seasons one and two it felt like there was some growth there so her constant flailing didn’t seem totally useless. It seemed like she was getting closer to telling him, like she was getting more comfortable with him over time, like there was still the possibility of him liking her back. Up through Despair Bear I was on board with the Adrien is oblivious/in denial of his feelings theory and all was well.

But as he continued to choose Kagami over Marinette over and over then Marinette’s flailing began to be more pathetic and hopeless, and I became less willing to believe that Adrien had any real feelings for Marinette beyond friendship, and that’s where the ‘Whatever chance there was, I think I missed it’ conversation in Finding Harmony came from. There was a moment where maybe if she had been able to confess they could have been something, but she didn’t, and the moment has passed and now she has to move on.

So yeah, to me there has to be a breaking point of some kind that gives Marinette that push to start making an effort to get over her feelings (Puppeteer 2 would have been the perfect place for it, and I think it was after that episode that I actually started writing Finding Harmony). She’d have to put in effort, it would be hard, and she would do everything she was attempting to do in the NY special and more, and it would take time and support and it would hurt. There’d be Lukanette comfort and support just like there has been up until now, but they wouldn’t date until Marinette reached a point where she really felt free.

Second Chance was more along the lines of what I expected to actually happen, in that Marinette and Adrien would get together for a while, and then post series there would be a breakup and a reunion with Luka where they rekindle their feelings.

I haven’t written a fic where Marinette confesses and is rejected because I just don’t want to deal in that kind of pain. But, Miracle Queen is honestly an acceptable substitute, where she sees Adrien’s budding relationship with someone else and resigns herself to it and commits to moving on. I just would want season 4 to pick up at that point, and move her through that difficult time of trying to break all those old habits, trying to find a way to be his friend without indulging in ways that are unhealthy for her (like long tight hugs and sniffing his cologne). I don’t think rushing straight into another relationship is a healthy answer for either Marinette or Luka. This is something Marinette has to work through, and Luka can support her, but she has to do the work herself.

So that’s my off-the-cuff, didn’t study, winging it exam answer. Hope it satisfies some of your curiosity!

#quickanswers #quickrambles #ml salt #not really but I'll tag it to be safe #ml writers salt #lukanette

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yuuikida · 3 years ago

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A03 stats: Q&A

Was tagged by the wonderful @joeys-piano. Please check them out after this post!

So I had to look into my stats which I don't normally do but let's see what I have to show for my stuff~ How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently, I have 284 works but keep in mind, about 90% of them are oneshots because I can dish those out faster than actual stories/series. What’s your total AO3 word count? Total word count is currently: 1,410,073 (oh sweet jesus PFFFT) I probably written a lot more in my fanfic.net days years ago but I didn't think it was that much, holy cow. XD

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? Thing is, I am a Multifandom person but some series had to create such a spark in me that makes me go 'oh wow, I want to write for this' so just because the series is amazing, doesn't mean I'll write for it, if that makes sense. -BNA 'Brand New Animal' (1)

-FNAF (4) *disclaimer: it was more for another series than this one* -Shiritsu Horitsuba Gakuen ( AU story of Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles) (7)

-Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle (26)

-Zombieland Saga (1)

-Sarazanmai (1)

-Bungou Stray Dogs (225)

-Kekkai Sensen (Blood Blockade Battlefront) (36)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

[These ones are in the triple digits because why not XD ] -For you

-In the morning

-Avoiding Fate

-Love bites

-Sweet and Savory

What are your top 5 fics by comment thread count?

-Avoiding Fate

-Acquiescing Fate

-Rockstar

-The illusion of Living

-Even gods don't know (it was a four way tie but this one had more kudos than the others.)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

-I should have replied to comments but I'm very bad in doing that. Like I'll just repeat 'OMG THANK YOU' and it doesn't feel very genuine and while I feel bad for not responding as much as I wanted to, I don't want to be redundant on it.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

-I don't really have a fic that has a angsty ending, most of them are pretty happy, at worst, bittersweet but not angsty.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

-BRUH I LOVE CROSSOVERS. I haven't been able to do them lately though which is sad but if I have an idea, I'll try and write it. The craziest one was the two TRC/BSD crossovers when I was going into BSD and coming out of TRC, in like 2016-ish???

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

-Hate? No. Questionable and/or nitpicky, yeah. The fandoms I write for are amazing for the most part so I never had actual hate for my fics but odds are I'll jinx myself and may get one anyway LMAO.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

- I do write smut but I haven't really written an actual smut fic in a while. Like I'm trying to do that in BSD. I'm more into reading it than writing it for reasons. I like explicit smut, like down and dirty but sweet and nice at the end.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

- Once. Someone commented on a Tanizaki/Kunikida oneshot that I did and asked if they can translate it into Russian and I was like 'O-Oh, sure' and they sent me the link of that fic to what was their version of fanfic. That has never happened before and I still can't believe it.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

- A lot when I was in the Tsubasa fandom. The reason I stopped though was because I felt as though I wasn't getting anywhere with my writing. We do RP that gets formatted to fics and that was fun. I just wanted to write stuff on my own.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

-Currently it's KunikiDazai from BSD

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

- Ahaha.....you mean just 'one'?

What are your writing strengths?

- Dialogue

-Descriptions

-Characterization

-Overarching plotting

What are your writing weaknesses?

- summaries

-writing action scenes

-consistency

-lack of variety in words

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

-I mean, just make sure it's as accurate as possible. Sometimes it is hard to do that if one isn't used to more than one Language. I mean it's not to say that they couldn't but add translations at the very least. I'm not good with that sort of thing, my apologies. ;w;

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

- It's a tie between D.Gray man and Black Butler

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

- Not a fic but a series called Welcome to Kunikida's Candy shop!

It's a what-if series, something that I'm apparently good at for some reason and I hope to get to certain points that really make this series shine~

[won't tag because meh so everyone is free to do this!]

#writer #fanfiction #tag game #about me

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rpbetter · 4 years ago

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seriously, you have no idea how fucking salty I am! I try to be fair, reasonable, and mellow with everyone, but it can and does come out.

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Due to recent events, I am changing this rule. It’s hard for me to receive messages unexpectedly, and I hate to imply that I’ll be able to get to these quicker because it isn’t the truth. Quicker, better responses come from the inbox. However, there have been too many incidents lately in which people needed to speak privately and had to make that a request. If you’re having a problem and need to vent, request sensitive advice, etc.? It’s alright, go ahead and drop me a PM, y’all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I am able. Please, do not be angry with me if I respond to inbox things or my queue is running! You’re important to me, I just might not have the requisite social cognition and energy you deserve at that time.

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This is definitely not a place for:

people who think giving muses labels, including top/bottom “dynamics,” is a good substitute for character traits, personality, and development

those with no reading comprehension skills

folks dependent upon aesthetics and aesthetics-based purple prose as filler for actual writing

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people who are going to tack onto my posts shit like, “it’s okay, OP, you can say x character.” Trust me, if I were talking about one character, I fucking would name drop them, don’t bring me into your fandom drama, I doubt I know or want to know who that anime guy is who looks like 12 other anime guys to me.

About Vespertine

You can call me that, Vespertine. I’d rather you didn’t go with Vesper, but as it is unfortunately so likely to happen, I won’t feed you to the dogs over it either. RPB Mun is also acceptable.

I’m alright with either she/her or he/him, they/them is also fine. Apparently, that was big enough clue-in for the poor reading comp crowd, so while I feel it is not of importance, I’m nonbinary, yes.

Late 30′s, chronically ill but still working adult with neurodivergence. I’m both busy and Busy, and always sick. This limits my brain power and ability to be here. I have an active RP blog that I won’t be sharing to keep responsible distance. That is always going to be my priority, it is my primary hobby.

Please, don’t tumblr message me totally random things if we don’t have that kind of relationship! I’m too ill and busy, and it really fucks my nerves to have a bunch of messages/have to suddenly interact socially with people. Don’t do it. Use my inbox, use the submit, comment on posts. I cannot do random messages of “hey” and so forth.

I only do written RP, don’t expect me to understand much of anything from tabletop. I’ve RPed for the last 23 years consistently, on every platform from AOL chats to forums to messengers and here. I also don’t do RP in discord, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you much on anything with a word count, except to stop it for serious RP. Other than that, I promise you that I’ve seen the trends, the drama, the fandoms. I can give a lot of advice and perspective on a wide range of topics, situations, and characters! When I don’t have a clue at all, I’ll try to do enough research to give you an answer.

Do I come off as a horrible, strict asshole? I do! I’m not going to say that I am just a shy bean who is more scared of you than you are me. I’m not. I’m honestly feral, but have common decency, compassion, and sense. All of which are lacking in the general RPC. So, if you can inbox/common/otherwise interact with anyone else on this site, you can totally handle me!

Honesty and openness are policies.

And in the spirit of that, I repeat; you can fucking do better, tumblr RPC!

#pinned post #tumblr rpc #rph #rp help #rp advice #rpbetter

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

Text

The Slutty Webs One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 6 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Brianna's surprise was a bedroom matching the guest room at Tony's and much more. Loki had conjured a two thousand square foot flat into an underground rock formation with sleeping quarters and private ensuites at either end. The main rooms were open concept, all the lighting adjustable to simulate midday or dusk and she followed his gaze to a set of drapes in the dining area.

"I dare speculate what's beyond. Don't you?" He asked.

Another room simulating the outdoors had a domed ceiling painted like the sky, two walls a tropical rainforest and the third a beach scene. Below it was a narrow pool, running the rooms length and to her left, a swing set and exercise apparatus. Brianna ran to him and squealed with delight when he spun her around in his arms. "You did all this for me?"

"With great pleasure."

"It's the best. Our own perfect hideaway, but aren't you exhausted?"

He chuckled. "Had I conjured a palace, perhaps. My magic is very powerful."

She suddenly looked concerned. "Sooo, nobody knows I robbed those houses? I really don't want to go to jail."

"Og Min Lille, no one. You're free now and shall never live imprisoned again." Loki wanted to erase those sad memories, but she was too young. It risked relearning to walk and talk, achievements well established in adults and possibly forgetting vital information that could help locate her 'imprisoners'. "Let's focus on the happier times ahead. I'm hungry are you?" Inside, he opened a suitcase of food taken from Thor's. "Can you believe the God of Thunder eats marshmallows? His face must resemble an oversized zit."

Brianna's giggle was so adorable he wanted to gobble her up. "Do you like pranking him?" She asked.

"Me? The God of Mischief? Nooo."

"Your nose is growing, Pinocchio."

"Who?"

She explained the character, Loki feigned panic, conjured a mirror and made funny faces while checking his reflection at different angles. "It's not a centimeter larger than the last time I looked. Who's the prankster?" They made smores together and Loki's first bite resulted in a glob of marshmallow dangling from his chin.

"It's okay." Said Brianna. "Uncle Cootyoodles wore most of his first time we made them. Pepper too. He was holding one for her taste when a glob fell down her shirt, she smeared some into his hair and what a mess that followed. Tony started chasing her around the island trying to stuff them into her pockets, but Pepper was crafty. She grabbed the partially melted ones and tried smearing more into his hair. When he blocked it, she slid one under his t shirt sleeve and mashed it into his armpit. They'd begun cleaning up when he snuck chocolate sauce from a cupboard and squirted some onto her head."

"Did uncle Cootyoodles get in trouble?"

"No. They chose a third target and boy did she become invisible fast."

Loki laughed.

"Tony's super funny. Did you know he hides boxes of Count Chocula in their apartment?"

"Where?"

"No way, Jose. I plan a return visit. He might not share if you tattle."

Loki suddenly felt trapped in a web of deceit. Telling Brianna that wasn't possible, or of his intention to move her to Asgard permanently risked jeopardizing her trust. Might she become angry enough to vanish at first chance? He could cap her abilities with a spell, but that meant the same and not learning her full capacity. He was damned either way and wondered if all parents shared this dilemma. Making decisions for their child's best interest knowing they'll be resented for them. And what of the biggest? Telling his Daughter she was a Goddess. With time on their side he opted to mull things over.

That evening he gave her a swimming lesson, cut her hair into a bob with bangs, altered his to salt and pepper, conjured brown contacts and together they planned their first adventure. ***** On Asgard, after reading Loki's letter in her private parlor, Frigga had whisked Astrid off to the observatory.

Heimdall saw them coming and stiffened with the Allmother's scowl. 'Odin's toupee, Beelzebub is resurrected.' "Greetings my gracious Queen and my lady. What can I do for you?"

"Find Loki, please?" The Allmother instructed.

"He's left realm?" Astrid replicated her scowl and he gazed into the cosmos. "Right away." 'Before one of you sprout horns.'

The search was taking too long and Frigga caught on why. "Has my son veiled himself?"

"I cannot see him." 'Fuck. How many holes can you dig in one lifespan, Fenrir?'

Astrid looked ready to hyperventilate. "I didn't hide from him down there."

The Gatekeeper did like the Duchess, yet occasionally questioned her sensibility. 'Maybe because you lack such powers?'

The Queen dismissed her nonsense and calculatingly advised. "Worry not. I have a plan."

Heimdall prayed to the Norns it didn't include an inverted pentagram. ***** The next night, Loki and Brianna exited a portal into a dark alley in Paris.

"This way, darling. You're going to love The Ritz."

An inebriated man witnessed the phenomenon from his apartments alley window. "Sacre bleu! No more cheap merde for moi." ***** In New Mexico, Thor was watching How to Train Your Dragon, thinking Toothless would make his Father a great pet. Odin blitzed on ale and the pair swooping down on Asgards Einherjar as he taunts the warriors. 'Catch me if you can, suckers!' Frigga's in pursuit on a skid. 'Land you ancient ripstonker or I'll tan your hairy hide!' He chuckled at the vision, crushed an empty beer can against his forehead and the doorbell rang. "Must be my neighbor Willie with another complaint. Yesterday the stereo's volume, tonight our TV's. Guess I should pity the old bugger, his surname being Stroker. Coming!" He politely shouted. 'Rickety ray of sunshine.' "Evening Mr...Astrid???"

"Hi."

Thor inwardly cringed when she rolled in a suitcase and paused a second to think. Heimdall always delivered him to spots where Loki had hidden vehicles, but Astrid didn't have a license. "How did…" He picked up her luggage when the bell rang again.

"You should answer that."

He did to someone looking less a ray of sunshine than grumpy Mr. Kneads-his-knob. "Mother???" It suddenly clicked why Loki had warned him Astrid might visit. He'd intended to shield himself and Brianna from Heimdall.

"Don't look so shocked. Last summer your Father surprised me with a brief trip to Norway. A beautiful country, but too many nude beaches. While there, he taught me to drive and Seidre granted me a fake license."

"Why didn't you mention it?"

"I had intended to surprise you by coming with Astrid and Loki on their next visit. In light of your mail delivery, I came sooner. Now where's your brother?"

"I don't know and presume he's veiled?"

"You're lying and we know he has a daughter." Said Astrid. "It was in the letter."

She'd never addressed him so crassly and Thor dismissed it to upset. "I'm not and imagine it was, hence your presence. He spelled me to sleep with a tonic I thought ale and upon waking, they were gone. In 'my' letter, Loki apologized for leaving unannounced, didn't explain why and asked I make the delivery."

"Loki apologized to you?" Asked Frigga.

"Yes."

"This I must see to believe. Show me."

"Impossible, Mother. He spelled that too."

"He what?" Asked Astrid.

"It's in the ink." Replied the Allmother. "The paper dissolves within minutes once exposed to oxygen."

The Duchess shook her head. "This is wrong. Loki claims to have had no relationship with a woman he impregnates then runs off with a child they supposedly created without a word to his wife or Mother?"

"She's right, Thor. If your Father and I truly do have a granddaughter, your brother should've said so, brought her to Asgard and introduced us."

"Loki didn't believe me at first, but knew the instant they met. Like myself."

"So he really didn't come for a bondage session with his big brother." Said Astrid. "You lured him here to meet the girl? Who introduced the two of you? Was the Mother blackmailing Loki and that's why they've vanished? How does he know this person and her daughter aren't working together? Any preteen could learn such skills!"

Thor had retrieved her from Heimdall's last drop and en route to see Tony, was subjected to her jealous assumptions regarding the stories. Loki had once mentioned similar behavior during a visit home with Jane, but this was over the top and he responded curtly. "That's bon-ding and could a six year old, Astrid? Enough with your antics."

"Thor Odinson, mind your manners and tell us everything." Demanded Frigga.

He observed the two expectantly glaring at him and pondered being in his brother's shoes. "No."

"And why not young man?"

Astrid spoke again. "Because he's lying, just like I thought."

The God frowned at his sister in law. "No, because I think I understand now why Loki vanished. Did either of you even hear what I just said? Brianna is six..years..old."

"Frigga's tone softened. "Brianna?"

"Yes, Mother, that's your granddaughters name. Which saddens me to say you'd know had you bothered asking."

"Well if you won't help us, I'll bet Tony knows where Loki is. I'll just call him." Said Astrid.

"You will not." Thor sharply reiterated. "I contacted Stark first thing and he knows nothing. The couple are on vacation. Leave them be."

"Son, at least have some compassion for her feelings." Suggested Frigga.

"Why? I haven't heard a shred of it yet for Loki from either of you and suspect he predicted the same. It's no wonder with our consistent lack of empathy towards him. Jane always disliked him yet the more I spoke of our history, her opinion changed. Humbling mine by insisting I see things from Loki's perspective and candidly pointing out Father's favoritism. I regret a lot, but this isn't a self pity rant. He and Brianna need someone on their side and I'm volunteering, so listen. All I'll reveal is she came to me and refused to say from where or how. I found her cowering inside my apartment after a run and willingly obliged her request to meet Loki." He looked directly at Astrid. "Your husband is innocent, knew nothing of her existence until I told him, yet carries guilt for not rescuing her sooner."

"'Rescuing?'" Asked Frigga.

"Brianna's short life hasn't been a happy one." Thor grabbed his keys.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere but here. I need to think."

He left and Astrid sobbed. "I've behaved so selfishly and now Loki's facing this alone."

The Allmother squeezed her hand. "I'm just as guilty, darling, but do get your sexual references straight?"

Astrid cried harder.

"There, there. Loki has to come home eventually."

"How..do you think he instantly kn..knew she was his?"

Frigga suddenly straightened. "Hells bells and Bilgesnipe testicles. Could she possess magic?"

Thor hadn't left to think. Distrustful of Astrid, he needed an excuse to do the one thing Loki had asked him not to. Call Stark. "Heyyy, flying human. Have a minute?"

"Nope. Busy drinking tequila out of Pepper's navel. Later."

She smirked when he hung up. "That was rude."

"What? I can't hold my phone, pour belly button shots and slurp all at the same time."

"Put him on speaker." She suggested.

"Stop moving or I'll pin you to the bed with my suit pieces."

"Now he's calling me. "'I'll' put him on speaker."

"A threesome with big guy?" Tony jested. "Can't we choose someone prettier?"

"You want a threesome? I never thought of sharing 'you' with anyone else."

He belched. "That was ugly. Answer the phone, Butch."

"Hi Thor."

"Sorry, Virginia. It's urgent."

Stark had risen from the bed in his boxers and Pepper withheld laughter as he goofily attempted a full monty. "What's up?"

Thor finished explaining and Tony gasped. "Say what? Pepper and I were about to experiment with shock treatments via my tequila laden nipples and you ruined it."

"He's kidding." She interjected.

The God chuckled. "Whatever ruffles your truffle, Virginia. He's taking it better than Loki predicted."

"It's the booze."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here people."

"Astrid's on realm and has thought of calling." Said Thor. "I won't send her your way. This is just a heads up."

Stark scanned his naked self. "Not anymore."

"Tony." Scolded Pepper.

"Sorry, what?"

"I've convinced her you're on vacation and Brianna came to me."

"Thumbs up, uncle lightning wielder. Why Daddy Snowflake lie and run away?"

"I'm not exactly certain, but suspect to avoid family drama over knowledge of Brianna's existence."

"Are they loco en la cabezas? You tell Loki she can come live here. If she turns our apartment into an ice rink, I'm down with that. I'll teach her how to skate."

Thor's respect for Tony was deepening over his unwavering affection for her. "If Loki contacts you, please warn him our Mother's here too?"

Stark shot upright. "Flaming flamingo fishnets! 'Thee' Allmother is on earth???"

"Not for long if I can help it. Astrid as well."

"'Atta boy! Duct tape them together and hurl 'em up the bifrosty."

"My Mother would have me quartered."

"Pooper shnickers. Saran wrap then?"

Thor laughed. "Virginia?"

"We'll play along. If Daddy Snowflake contacts you, tell him we're a phone call away." ***** Thor opted for a local pool hall instead of going home, but Frigga waited up.

"Does Brianna have powers, darling? I'd appreciate knowing."

He headed straight for his bedroom. "Jane comes home in three days. 'I'd' appreciate if you and Astrid returned to Asgard beforehand."

Frigga stood outside his door. "Thor…"

"Cover me in preserves and tie me to an ant hill, Mother. I'm still not talking."

"Sounds like a kinky ritual to enact on your Father."

He opened it enough to stick his head out. "Are you cray cray?"

"Possibly. If you aren't going to talk then come listen?" He begrudgingly obliged and they sat in the living room. "Forgive my rudeness earlier? I've been overcome with shock and bewilderment since Astrid came to me."

"No more so, than Loki."

"I imagine and have a briefened love story to tell you."

"Again?"

Frigga smirked at the hint of disinterest on Thor's face. "Not mine and your Father's, Loki's and Astrids. When your brother was first pardoned, the people were angry. Palace staff addressed him only when necessary and on the streets, there was talk of him being a traitor. He was miserable so your Father and I allowed him back to Midgard if he promised to stay out of trouble. He rarely cracked a smile on visits home and during one, I convince him to attend a ball by threatening to sacrifice a virgin."

Thor's brows rose. "Mother, you didn't."

"Almost. A young handmaiden he coveted. I'm not as innocent as I appear. Loki spent a good part of it alone, brooding in a side parlor. I'd considered suggesting he lose the glare which conveyed to all, 'come any closer and I'll rip off your limbs' when noticing Astrid edging her way around the room, cautiously evading his sight. I later learned she wanted to greet him unexpectedly, so he mightn't be so quick to reject her. Then as she introduced herself and Loki rose as a gentleman should, he smiled wholeheartedly for the first time in over a year. As you do in Janes presence. Soon he began spending more time at home and no matter the ignorance of others, including her Father's disapproval of their courtship, she lovingly stood by your brother. They were walking arm in arm at last year's harvest festival when someone bellowed 'traitors whore!' Astrid said he furiously demanded the coward show themselves. When no one came forth, she announced to all listening. 'Taunt and think of me as you please, but never forget whose presence you're in. Prince Loki of Asgard, son of your King and Queen and I am his proud fiance, Astrid Heskin.' She's made Loki very happy and it shows in every aspect of his personality."

"I'm just as impressed as I am confused." Said Thor. "If the feeling's mutual, why the constant jealousy?"

"It's between them I suppose." Frigga knew why, but withheld it in confidence.

"Sentiment aside, Loki never said where or when he planned to return. I'll have two days with Jane before she's back at S.H.I.E.L.D and I'm doing charity work. Nor can Astrid keep imposing on Mr. Stark when she and Loki have problems. Please take her home?"

"We'll leave tomorrow."

"Thank you. How did Father take the news?"

"He doesn't know and thinks I came to escort Astrid to Loki."

"Weren't we supposed to be bonding?"

"That, he would never believe and have surely gone to Heimdall. We told him Loki was helping you find Jane a new house as a surprise, Astrid missed him and wanted to help too. He waved us onward amidst his newfound kingly pleasure, a pedicure."

"Father gets pedicures?"

"It's not as though they paint his nails slut red. Centuries in leather boots makes for terribly smelly feet."

"Still, that complicates things." Thor explained Loki's conversation about Frost Giants. "My crassness wasn't meant as an insult to his original heritage. After everything Brianna's endured, I merely assumed it information overload for her."

"Darling. Where is the difference in learning she's Jotun or Asgardian?"

"There isn't any. Loki wouldn't reveal all they'd discussed and I'd dreaded he'd informed her Asgardians opinion of Jotuns. That 'we' were taught to fear and hate them."

His words reminded Frigga of her own guilt and shame over lying to her son. "Your Father and I were catastrophically wrong for teaching that. He despised Laufey for senselessly attacking Midgard, but I'm just as guilty for not speaking up."

"His scorn remains, Mother."

"Only because Jotunheim are ruled by a secretive and fluctuating council since Laufey's death and are rumored to be allies with Svartalfheim. They want Nidavellir to join them but the realm will not, claiming fear of animosity from the others and losing their greatest source of income."

"Weapons."

"Yes. Secretly, they are 'our' allies. Through spies, we learn of every weapon they sell and to whom. Should the Jotuns attain this knowledge and see the Dwarves as traitors, your Father dreads an outbreak of war and the senseless demise of millions. The Jotuns tell your Father only enough to appease him and the constant uncertainty has led him to double the size of our Einherjar."

"More you have not told me? Mother, why?"

"You're happy here and in a strategic position as an Avenger. Midgard is safer because of you. Loki knows all of this yet your Father is so edgy, I'm uncertain how he'll react to him being veiled."

"I'm saddened to hear of his duress, yet intend on further mending my relationship with Loki. Wish to join me?"

"Indeed I do."

"Then lie to Father again. Don't tell him Astrid returned and ask her to visit her Mother. Have her agree your back up plan should he question Heimdall sooner is she spoke to Loki, but he'd taken Brianna to Disneyland to bond with her alone. Claim that's why he's veiled and said they'd return 'here' in two weeks. It covers our arses and hopefully buys him time."

"Disneyland?" She queried.

"It's a famous amusement park for children."

"And if Loki doesn't show?"

"We're dungeon bound. Pack a warm sweater."

"Norns. How do I prevent Heimdall from seeing Astrid return?"

Thor groaned. "Snitch about this and I'll never forgive you. Max is sworn to service myself and Loki only or be fed to beasts. He takes bribes, but you can probably intimidate him into staying quiet with one glare."

Frigga jestingly rolled her eyes. "Such hooligans I raised."

"Be grateful to him, Mother. His arse will also be on the line for worse than concealing a mail delivery."

She shrugged. "I'll tell your Father I threatened to confine him to my poisonous spider conservatory."

Thor froze and asked similar question Loki had asked of him. "Are you truly 'our' relative? Asgards warm, kind and Allmotherly Queen?"

"Yes although formidable when required. It's a torture chamber, darling. So our enemies believe. They're artificial replicas of Midgards most deadly with tiny doses of various potions in their fangs. One induces diarrhea, another severe itching, hallucinations and my favorite, temporary paralysis. All with anecdotes, of course and they only attack via my magic. Imagine thousands positioned for battle."

Thor wondered if Frigga had inhaled too many fumes from her potion components and next he'd hear she'd conjured them tiny helmets. "You're right. I am happier here." 'With access to exterminators.'

"Do you think Loki is veiled out of fearing your Father's judgement?"

"Primarily."

The Allmother regretfully sighed. "I'll speak with Astrid in the morning."

She passed him and Thor faced her. "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Brianna's amazing. Intelligent beyond her years, braver than some Einherjar I've known. You will love her instantaneously and yes, she has powers. The rest is her Father's privilege to disclose."

Frigga's smile conveyed gratitude. "Thank you, son. Goodnight." Astrid slept like a log and with magic, she carefully removed her wedding ring, entered the ensuite, made a replica of it for herself and began whispering. "Loki, darling..." ***** Astrid's ring was on, but Loki wasn't tuned into its frequency, didn't hear his Mother's message, nor of a link to the spell that accessed hers. He was too overwhelmed to endure his families negative rantings. As Brianna slumbered in luxury, he read more of her Mother's diary and lurched forward, seething upon discovering an adversary. 'You?'

Loki added the name to his shit list of most wanted. 'Consider yourself marked, fucker.'

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #chapter 6 #lokilover9 #The Slutty Webs one Weaves

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risottostitties · 5 years ago

Note

I love your headcanon posts! what are some of your headcanons (backstory and personality) for the rest of La Squadra?

Oh boy, these got kinda long. I hope you enjoy my dumb rambling about La Squadra (also my bias towards Melone and Sorbet+Gelato is showing I’m so sorry) I added the songs I used for inspiration on Sorbet and Gelato’s stands so that’s something lmao

Also also I’m still trying to figure out formatting on tumblr I’m so sorry.

Also also also I have so many dumb headcanons for the inner bureaucratic workings of Passione and what each ‘position’ in the gang entails and how Passione became a dominant force in Italy and oops I’ve slipped them in here a bit my b.

Fromaggio

- He got his start smuggling. Drugs, weapons, people, Little Feet made that a breeze.

- The thought of being an assassin never crossed his mind, because it seemed like a lot of work. More so than smuggling which was basically just getting stuff from point a to point b without getting caught.

- Fromaggio was a confident dude, laid back and easy going with an agreeable personality that most people enjoyed.

- He’s not exactly details oriented though, and that’s what came to bite him in the ass.

- He was working with one of the few groups not affiliated with Passione and it was only a matter of time before the operation was busted.

- Fromaggio never really asked many questions about his jobs, nor did he care very much who or what he was smuggling. He met with a man in Malta seeking entrance into Naples and was willing to pay handsomely. So of course, Fromaggio agreed.

- If he’d been paying more attention, he would have recognized that man as Prosciutto.

- Fromaggio brought the assassin right into their main warehouse and it was game over from there.

- Prosciutto took interest in Fromaggio’s stand and decided against killing the man, instead bringing him to Risotto to see what the Capo thought about his abilities.

- When offered a choice between dying with the rest of his old associates or joining Passione, the choice was obvious.

- He really, really enjoys gambling. Prosciutto supplements his income with Fromaggio’s gambling habit.

- Fromaggio gets along well with all of La Squadra. He’s always been an agreeable dude and he’s willing to give just about anything a shot once. So he’s at least passingly knowledgeable about the interests and hobbies of other members.

- Fromaggio, Prosciutto, Pesci, Ghiaccio, and Melone make up the main ‘kill squad’ of La Squadra where Illuso, Sorbet, and Gelato handle clean up and intel gathering.

Illuso

- Illuso does very little killing himself. For the most part, he deals with disposing of evidence. The mirror world is great for that.

- Because of this he has the lowest kill count out of all of them.

- He is Sicilian like Risotto, and they converse in Siciliano when it’s just the two of them. Neither of them is particularly chatty though.

- Ghiaccio and Pesci didn’t know he was a member of the squad for weeks because he rarely ever leaves the mirror. He doesn’t even have a room in their hideout, he just sleeps in the room of whoever forgets to cover their mirror.

- Most of the time its Pesci’s room because he feels bad

- I hc him at about 27

- He joined La Squadra after Ghiaccio and was more or less ‘gifted’ by Polpo because of his quiet demeanor.

Ghiaccio

- He’s baby (24)

- His first kill was at age 18 when he was working in a chop shop and beat someone to death with a wrench.

- Melone was the one to bring him into La Squadra, his bike was getting some work done in the shop and he was there to see Ghiaccio snap.

- Risotto wasn’t keen on letting someone so young join La Squadra and initially turned Ghiaccio away. Which pissed the boy off enough for him to seek out Polpo, demand a trial, and come back with White Album.

- He had never skated in his life, but White Album gave him the instinctive ability to do so.

- He can only skate while wearing White Album. Without it, he actually had to learn.

- He reflexes and balance also improved greatly after gaining White Album

- He’s the only one not ‘trained’ by Prosciutto, instead Risotto took over his ‘training’. The Capo wanted to personally make sure he was equipped to handle the life that comes with La Squadra.

- Risotto and Ghiaccio are quite close. Risotto was initially intrigued by White Album and Ghiaccio liked Risotto the most because he was the only person who was careful with his words.

- He’s got a keen eye for detail and an eidetic memory. He enjoys taking apart electronics and seeing how they work (and how he can improve them)

- Ghiaccio enjoys working with cars, but doesn’t like all the oil and grease.

Melone

- I hc his age at 28

- He was always too inquisitive for his own good, and very curious as a child. Most people found him annoying

- Melone has absolutely zero respect for personal space. If he likes you, he will hang off you without a second thought.

- And if someone retaliates jokes on you he think’s its hot.

- It is possible to make him angry, but he won’t let it show out of spite. You really gotta be angling for it if you want to piss him off, and if you’ve put in that much effort into getting a rise out of him he’s not going to give you the satisfaction.

- His mom was like Giorno’s, a party girl who resented her children for holding her back

- He has an older half sister who took care of him when he was younger. They were extremely close.

- From her he learned to paint nails, braid hair, and they both really enjoyed looking at horoscopes and other astrology/pseudoscience things.

- She was 10 years older than Melone, and when she married Melone went to live with her (he was about 12 at the time) and he never really got along with his brother in law.

- Her husband was in Passione, a low ranking Soldato but an ambitious one. She was aware of her husband’s occupation but decided the risk was worth the reward (and the financial stability)

- Her eventual pregnancy led to Melone’s fascination with pregnancy and childrearing.

- She died due to complications with a late term miscarriage when he was 16

- After this Melone and his brother in law stuck together. Melone joined Passione, receiving his stand from Polpo’s Arrow.

- The pair of them had a pretty good scheme going on but eventually his brother in law bit off more than he could chew, and Risotto was called in to clean up the mess.

- Babyface proved to be a challenge, and instead of eliminating Melone as he was working with the target Risotto decided to offer him a choice.

- Self-preservation won out and in a show of loyalty Melone had Babyface kill his former brother in law. At best, he tolerated the man because his sister loved him and after she died he was a good meal ticket so when his life was on the line it didn’t take much prodding for Melone to turn on him.

- It took a while for Risotto to trust him because of how easily Melone’s loyalties shifted but once that trust was earned Melone never gave Risotto a reason to regret it even if his impulsive decisions (such as dragging Ghiaccio into Passione) caused him some trouble occasionally.

Pesci

- Pesci is actually, genuinely, a sweet guy. He’s respectful of his superiors, polite (if not a bit awkward) to strangers, will offer help if he sees someone struggling with a heavy bag or something on a high grocery shelf, the whole nine yards.

- He has a habit of second guessing himself and apologizing often but is quick to offer reassurance to people if he sees they’re having a bad day.

- He also has a hair trigger temper and killed a man by snapping his neck with his bare hands.

- That’s what landed him in jail.

- Its like flipping a switch with this guy.

- Risotto personally bailed Pesci out of jail and brought him into his team because of his brute strength. It was novel, to see someone so capable without a stand.

- He received his stand from Polpo’s arrow.

- Pesci is the newest member of La Squadra, but not the youngest (that honor goes to Ghiaccio) and I personally hc him at 25

- His ‘training’ mostly consists of shadowing Prosciutto and observing how he does things. There is a lot to be learned from watching another stand user work, even if their stands are vastly different.

- He lacks real strategy, which is another reason he was teamed up with Prosciutto (who winds up ‘training’ most of the new recruits anyway)

- He’ll be considered a full fledged assassin once he completes his first job on his own (with Illuso or Fromaggio tailing him to observe, depending on the abundance of mirrors)

Sorbet and Gelato

- Of the two, Sorbet is the most talkative. He’s got a pretty good sense of humor, and a natural charisma about him that puts people at ease if they don’t already know him

- Gelato and Prosciutto are both card sharks and they keep their skills sharp by practicing on each other.

- While no one would call any of them selfless, they would lay down their lives for each other without hesitation.

- They have so many words unique to their relationship that people listening in would assume they’re talking in code half the time.

- Sorbet and Gelato are the oldest members of La Squadra. Sorbet was 36 when he died, and Gelato was 41

- Sorbet got his start in Passione, Gelato was part of a ‘merger’ so to speak.

- The previous syndicate Gelato was a part of was assimilated by Passione after Diavolo returned to Italy. He was familiar with Pericolo as they had been part of the same group.

- Sorbet and Gelato both have stands, although they were both born stand users.

- Gelato’s stand is called Mack the Knife and it allows him to eat anything regardless of size (and his stomach acid has a ph value of 1.3). On top of this, it also gives him sharp and study teeth. If for some reason something he eats breaks a tooth he has more in reserve, like a shark.

- Sorbet’s stand is called Fortunate Son and essentially it hides the user and anyone they touch in plain sight. They’re not invisible, but you must be consciously looking for Sorbet in order to find him when Fortunate Son is active.

- They joined La Squadra before it was ‘La Squadra’ Risotto (being green himself at the time) wanted more experienced people on his team but had little to no luck recruiting people until these two.

- They’re well known in the gang for their unorthodox (putting it gently) methods of doing things and kept most people from approaching them.

- Primarily they ‘interview’ people for information on Squadra targets, but those interviews always turn deadly.

- While they enjoy killing more than anyone else in La Squadra, they don’t typically get kill jobs because they’re just good at interrogating people. They make do with that just fine though. Neither of them enjoys leaving loose ends.

- Before Illuso joined, Gelato oversaw clean up and disposal.

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kumoriyami-xiuzhen · 5 years ago

Text

Hakuoki Reimeiroku Saito Final Chapter Ending Translation +(small) music update

Witness the fruits of my labour as a result of my bias for Saito! Also, happy anniversary to Hakuoki~!

I actually started working on this chapter’s translation in early August since I really, really wanted it done.... and seriously, this is probably one of the longest things I’ve translated [video for this chapter is just under 15 min]... so far [ha. ha. ha. pity me]. I however have no intention on working on the other Reimeiroku final chapters anytime soon as I have plenty of other torturous things planned for myself.... and as always, this was translated from Chinese.

All images aside from the CG were pulled from a video of the ending [i couldn’t get the cgs without things on them] since I do not have the game [unless someone wants to buy me it for the vita... pretty please? xD]....

Anyway.... forgive my formatting [rather lack thereof] since I didn’t really care to change things from the document that I was working on + tumblr space formatting is not something I like to try doing anything about [aka I hate how the line spacing is never consistent].

Enjoy <3 [also music note is at the end. see what i did there? xD yeah lame pun. i suck at humour]

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Hakuoki Reimeiroku Saito Final Chapter Ending

Translation by KumoriYami

In Tonami, spring comes late. As the snow melted, and as the earth started to thaw, green shoots/sprouts began to emerge. However, this evening, as if reminiscent of winter, snow fell. Checking that it was completely dark out, I sighed slightly.

Chizuru: It's still snowing, at least until Hajime-san returns, it will hopefully not snow much....

If this continues, it might be better to first take dinner off the stove. Despite how winter passed, spring nights are cold, [and] if it snowed at night, it would get [even] colder......

After work, he should be very tired. Hopefully he would return home [soon], [and then] I could immediately warm him. Still....

Chizuru: Hajime-san is very late. When he left, he said today he would come home early....

At nightfall, dinner and bath were ready. [I] Just needed to wait for him to return.

Now, his body is not as strong as when we first met. After a series of successive battles, his body was weaker than the average person’s.

Chizuru: There shouldn't be anything bad happening. If that were the case, that would be bad...

Ah, I've been waiting for so long, and just as I was about to sigh again ———. (Door opens) Chizuru: ! Standing in front of the doorway, it was the person I was waiting for.

Chizuru: Welcome back, Hajime-san! Is your body okay?

He had snow on his shoulders and looked down slightly as if to apologize.

Saito: I'm home, Chizuru. [My] Body is fine, [but] I didn't keep my word. I'm very sorry to have come back so late....

I smiled at him, as long as he came back safely, I was happy.

Chizuru: It's because of work, there's no way around it. It's very late, you should be very tired!

Chizuru: In any case, your clothes are probably wet from the snow, you should change....

Saito: There's no problem. They’re only a little wet, and will probably dry soon... I was running back quickly.

Chizuru: …………？ His voice, compared to usual, sounded a bit more excited.

Maybe there was something to be excited about, I wondered.

Chizuru: What about dinner tonight? Or do you take a bath to warm yourself?

Usually, Hajime-san eats dinner first. If there were problems at work, he'd take a bath and relax.

But, today he shook his head and choose neither.

Saito: Chizuru. Tonight, before that, I have something I want to tell you... is that okay?

Chizuru: ? Okay. If Hajime-san has something to say, of course I'll listen....

I felt the atmosphere was a little tense, and sat, slightly nervous.

He nodded, and as I did, sat on his knees [not sure bout this sentence].

Saito: This is from the past. Before you came to the Shinsengumi, there was an expert at painting. Although he was born into a samurai family, he didn't want to be 【born as a samurai】...

Hajime-san, with a nostalgic look, spoke of the past.

Saito: I once advised him to at least learn self-defence, but he hated swordsmanship.

Chizuru: It's like water and oil..... This man is the opposite of Hajime-san.

Hajime-san who regarded being a samurai as his way of life, took the initiative to practice kenjutsu.

Saito: Nn. Even though that was the case, Ibuki and I, unexpectedly got along well together........ there was no disharmony.

Chizuru: Then, you're saying that Ibuki-san.... he didn't want to be a samurai, [but then] why did he join the Shinsengumi?

Saito: 「………」 He answered my question with silence. Looking at me with eyes that said: 『you understand』------.

Suddenly I thought of myself being retained at headquarters.

Chizuru: It it possible that Ibuki-san didn't want to be a member in the beginning........

Chizuru: Like me, he had no choice but to stay with the Shinsengumi?

Hajime-san slightly lowered his chin to confirm.

Saito: Ibuki was forced into joining, and was very distressed about his own way of life. Seeing this, I couldn't do nothing.

Chizuru: 「………」 I remembered how Hajime-san once told me that he killed someone in his hometown. He had been in great pain before he met me.

The process of walking with him and my own choices have made me more aware of the pain.....

Saito: But now, Ibuki has decided to be a painter.

His expression was happy, as if he were speaking about his own affairs.

Infected by Hajime-san's appearance, my heart was/felt warm.

Chizuru: Although we have never met, Ibuki-san and Hajime-san must be similar.

It wasn't just mutual respect, they must get along well.

The choice of being a painter should have been made after Ibuki-san's hardships and pains. Because of this thinking, I smiled and told Hajime-san.

Chizuru: I just said that the two of you were like opposites, but the way you made choices was no different.........

Chizuru: Desperately searching for your own path, experiencing hardships and pain, and finally finding [what you were looking for], in this you are the same.

Saito: Chizuru......... Hajime-san was a little embarrassed and avoided my gaze.

Chizuru: But, how did Hajime-san know he became a painter?

I asked casually, [as] he spoke in ambiguous terms.

Saito: Ibuki, he left shortly after the Shinsengumi was named 【Shinsengumi】.

Chizuru: 「…………」 Leaving the Shinsengumi.... I couldn't help but feel a chill down my back when I considered its implications.

Chizuru: I-is it possible that Ibuki-san escaped without going through formal procedures? Hajime-san nodded. Ibuki-san should have been considered a missing person if he left without permission. [That meant] Becoming a person to be targeted/hunted down by the Shinsengumi.

Chizuru:.......So, he should have left Kyoto before the Shinsengumi discovered him/his actions.

After that, he wouldn't/couldn't contact Hajime-san, who was still in the Shinsengumi.

So, how did Hajime-san know that Ibuki-san became a painter, I couldn't figure it out.

Then Hajime-san smiled.

Saito: Ibuki and I, we met by chance when [I was] fighting during the Battle of Aizu.

Chizuru: During such fierce fighting....!? At that time the battlefield was always bloody, and everyday was a struggle.

I had no idea that Hajime-san met him at the time.

Saito: Of course there was no time to talk. As a result, I couldn't introduce you to Ibuki---- Saito: After the war, he finally heard news that we were under the care of the Aizu-han and living in Tonami.

Chizuru: 「！」 His words made my eyes suddenly widen.

Saito: Today, I got in touch with Ibuki. I finally learned that he was a painter as[/when] he sent this to me.

Hajime-san explained as he took something out from his arms.

This is....... What a beautiful and wonderful painting. Silver hair, red eyes, black clothes----.

Chizuru: This is, Hajime-san.... portrayed in the form/incarnation of a rasetsu. This must be Hajime-san from the Battle of Aizu, really, what a beautiful painting.

A rasetsu running in the middle of the night, is clearly depicted on the paper.

Saito: .....The existence of the rasetsu, should be kept hidden away from history, so this painting cannot be shown.

Saito: Of course, Ibuki understands this, and that is why he sent me this painting.

Chizuru: 「………」

I sighed in my heart. This painting conveyed profound emotions that could not be described in words.

The ground was stained with blood and red, which was particularly horrible..... It's like an illusion of still being on the battlefield. Only those who understood it could capture [says draw] such a tense atmosphere of war [not sure how else to say this part].

Just looking at this painting, I felt captivated.

Chizuru: It's incredible. Although it feels scary, it feels so beautiful....

It felt like a so-called "fascinated" feeling. [?????might be something more along the lines of: It left a fascinating feeling] Chizuru: It's not because the war is over that I think the style is 【very beautiful】...........

It's more like saying, that there are moments of life and death, and that this painting conveys the horrors of war.

The grief of taking people's lives, [and] being covered in blood, that moment was reflected in the painting......

It's important to think about life, but I couldn't help but have this come to mind. Chizuru: 「………」 Even so/Still, such a brilliant piece of art still made me feel overwhelmed/speechless.

Then, Hajime-san smiled gently and spoke to me in a gentle voice.

Saito: ……I realized the purpose of fighting. It's to act appropriately as a samurai, to protect people, and then do the utmost/fight at all costs to accomplish it [one's goals]. [honestly, i'm not entirely sure with the entire text here]

The vivid depiction of red blood must give people who understood war/fighting, or those who did not, a huge shock.

Even without knowing the name of Saito Hajime, it should be obvious(/seen/understood at a glance). This rasetsu, is protecting something, and at the expense of his own life.

Saito: I am someone with purpose, changing like water, then finding [my] own path. While staying aware of/true to [my own] ideals/ambitions. [nother part I'm not really sure with....though Saito might be saying something similar to being fluid in adapting to a situation]

Saito: He painted this.... Only Ibuki can paint like this, this is a unique painting in the world [might be style of painting??]. The guy finally figured out what he is going to do.

He spoke with conviction. Chizuru: 「………」 My eyes were still on the picture, and I continued to look. In the painting, he was covered in blood, and he looked even more righteous. In the eyes of Ibuki-san, this was what Hajime-san looked like.

Chizuru:.......Ibuki-san certainly must trust Hajime-san deeply. Chizuru: Even if [you're/while] covered in blood, until the very end, Hajime-san will not lose himself. Looking at this painting, that's what it feels like.

Despite transforming into a bloodthirsty rasetsu, he wouldn't lose himself, and would move forward with conviction-----. He drew the Hajime-san he knew on this piece of paper.

Saito: ………I don't really understand. But, if you think so, [then] that is what it is. Chizuru: 「……………？」 Saito: Chizuru. You always point out what I can't see and lead me in the right direction---- Saito: It's like the existence of a guide/sign post/road sign. No one can compare with you. I've been helped by your strength.

[can’t decide which word to use here as ‘guide’ is the least literal translation.. while the others are more accurate though sound... less nice. if i had to choose though, i’d pick ‘road sign’ as Saito perceives Chizuru as the one helping him with directions on his path. I’ll go machine TL the JP for this later since I did this sentence based on two translations of this chapter]

Hearing this, I looked at him in amazement, and he looked back at me. Saito: ……Chizuru. He smiled. I also smiled.

Saito: ……It is good/great to have married someone like you/......It's good/great to have a bride/wife like you. Truly it's great. I believe/think [that], I am a lucky man.......

Hearing Hajime-san speak happily, I blushed in shyness.

He spoke in quiet voice, lightly whispering, causing my heart to feel warm and my cheeks hot. Although it was embarrassing, it wasn't unpleasant. [alt: unwelcome?] How could I not feel embarrassed, this heat/warmth was from being happy.

Chizuru: Regardless of who it is, their heart [will] have desires. (Regardless of one's background, people will have their own desires). What I want, no matter what happens, is to stay at Hajime-san's side.

Aside from this, there was nothing else. I gazed into Hajime-san's eyes to convey this idea.

Chizuru: Hajime-san will not express his true feelings, only hide them.... Even if it was painful, he would hide those feelings. When he was being consumed by bloodlust, he pretended nothing was wrong and continued to fight.

Chizuru: This kind/type of Hajime-san, in the end, I will be very concerned about/I care a lot about, [as] I have always wanted to know [more about] you /to understand you. So, naturally I will love you. [???]

[I’m assuming the last sentence says something more along the lines of: So no matter what happens, I will always care about you/love how you are. *may just rewrite this part later after getting the Japanese machine translated if whatever is stringed together makes more sense]

Saito: 「…………」 Hajime-san was silent. More shyness showed, [and his] eyes reddened.

I also did not say anything, [and the] two of us were silent. But/However we didn't look away from one another. Shortly after, Hajime-san suddenly opened his mouth.

Saito:......Chizuru. I'm very sorry to come back late today. I really should have returned earlier.

Saito: I wanted you to see this painting earlier. As always, I wanted to see Chizuru’s face sooner, but it would be better if I came home sooner.

Chizuru: Nn, me too. It's very nice to have Hajime-san back [home] earlier..../If Hajime-san can return sooner/earlier [I] would be happy....

Saito: 「………」

Chizuru: 「………」 Conveying [one's] true feelings to [their] loved ones is the right thing to do.... The two of us are both still shy, however [we would] never look away from the other. I feel very strongly felt that staying with the one I loved made me happy.

Saito: Chizuru. You have never complained, [while] staying at my side. Despite the war(/fighting) [we] experienced together. Saito: ......I am so thankful for your presence, truly, you saved me..... The Hajime-san from before, /In the past, Hajime-san was a person that would/would hide his feelings. But, now it is different, he will/would speak his thoughts one at a time(/slowly). His gentle words and heartfelt feelings, filled me with tears/I couldn't help but cry.

Saito: Were it not for someone protecting me, I surely would have lost my way/myself. His words were suddenly interrupted, and I immediately understood what he wanted to say. Tears blinded my eyes, and I smiled.

Chizuru: Although there were many painful experiences in the past, we however, found our own path for the future.

This wish/desire will not end, now, our life is 【here】. In fact, the happiness [we have/share] is incredible. [probably something like: In fact, the happiness (we share) feels impossible/too incredible/unreal] Chizuru: Thank you, Hajime-san. Nothing makes me happier than the fact that both of us can live together like this.......

Saito: ………Chizuru.

He, likely trying to contain the emotions that were coming out of him, quivered/shook, [and/before] shouted/shouting my name. After a few attempts to adjust his breath, he quickly opened his mouth to make a promise.

Saito: Tomorrow, I'll come home sooner. Even if its for a short while [longer], I want more time for us. For our future..... [says for the both of us instead of 'our'] He looked at me with a very serious expression. Hajime-san's honest personality, I really like it/ I really liked Hajime-san's honest personality.

Saito: I will not break my promise this time/ This promise will not broken this time. So, can you wait for me, Chizuru……？[personally i think it sounds better with 'will' instead of 'can'...]

I nodded. Like him I was a little nervous, [with a] slightly stiff expression. Regardless of when, [my desire of] wanting to stay with my beloved would not change tomorrow, [and] I will [/would] wait for him to come home.

Even if it's only for a bit more, I also wanted to see him sooner.

After we became husband and wife, we lived happily every day, and today was also without incident/ also passed/spent safely [says safe and sound as an idiom] . I hope tomorrow will be the same and [that this will] continue. 【Here】is indeed where we've made our home/where we live.

The End

-------------

I dare someone to argue with me that Saito isn’t the best with Chizuru lol! I shall go and fight you by abusing my power as an amateur barely-decent Chinese translator with waaaaay better editing and dictionary lookup skills than translating and refuse to translate stuff with whomever your favourites are if someone attempts to fight me over this!!

mwhahahahahaaaa!!

lol. xD (i wouldn’t really do that. probably. I think.................................? well i admit that I can be extremely petty at times when the subjects are my fandom favourites..... >_< and I will go down with my ships!

also i’m almost done (90%ish?) with my piano arrangement of Hakumyu Kazama-hen’s Never Goodbye, Forever! Just need to finish adding some articulation/dynamic stuff, and adjust the timing of the RH notes of when Kazama talks, and the notes for Souji, Harada and Shiranui speak.... though I’m not sure if I’ll do all of it since these two sections only use one hand so there’s no real need to worry about matching lh to rh timing of notes there....

then all will be left is formatting and doing any final edits...

wip audio:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/pd3nrm6nhin8vsl/Kazama%20hen%20Never_Say_Goodbye%2C_Forever%20v2.mp3?dl=0

#hakuoki #hakuouki #Hakuoki Game Translation #Hakuoki Reimeiroku #Saito Hajime #Yukimura Chizuru #to be edited later

24 notes · View notes

ganymedesclock · 6 years ago

Text

I get really angry sometimes hearing stuff about “Lance getting the respect he deserves” because in actual factual explicit canon, there is no shortage of respect for Lance. He is repeatedly and frequently positively acknowledged, he freely voices his concerns and expresses his feelings. There’s no issue where Lance feels like the team hates him, either in his head, or in the actual environment.

The one person on the team he’s legitimately hit-or-miss with is Shiro, who has from the start still treated him meaningfully like part of the team, specifically remembered his name without being told and shook his hand / thanked him as a first impression (remember he was Lance’s personal hero, that’s a big deal!) called him “sharpshooter” in s2e10 basically just because Lance wanted to be called that, in s5e3 specifically took the time to apologize to Lance, unprompted and without anybody else watching, for losing his temper at him (and in the moment reacts guiltily and avoids eye contact right after he yells at Lance) and Lance has now become the one person that Shiro’s fully opened up to about not feeling right.

Hunk has been Lance’s friend the entire time and after Shiro stormed out on them Hunk flat-out asked what was wrong with Shiro and was shown to dwell the most on how “weird” that was in terms of bringing it up to other people in s5e4. All the way back in s1e1 we’ve seen that Hunk is willing to follow Lance into really frustrating situations that he thinks are a bad idea, in s1e5 he specifically brings up Lance’s needing medical attention suggesting that it was on his mind the entire trip to get a new crystal, and he was the most outraged at Rolo and Nyma in s1e6 when they tricked Lance. And of course the first thing Hunk and Yellow Lion ever did together was protect Lance, which, whether or not Hunk did that on purpose, he sure did immediately destroy the ships endangering Lance and ask him if he was okay.

Pidge complains about and argues with Lance sometimes, but in s1e4 nothing changed her mind about leaving... except when Lance needed help, in which she not only stalled her departure but gave Coran and Hunk all of the resources she’d secured for her trip to make sure they could get a new crystal.

Allura has obviously warmed up to Lance, taken to heart things that he says to her, as early as s2e7 responds positively to the idea of him taking her shopping for “something sparkly” and in s3e2 flat-out tells Lance she thinks that he’s worthy of her father’s Lion, which, given how much she respects Alfor, is a statement. In s5e3 she tells him the Altean Broadsword is an obvious sign that they’ve “all” noticed he has greatness within him, and when Lance says he doesn’t think Shiro’s noticed...

Not only is that proven wrong within the episode (as Lance is the one Shiro calls out to in the astral plane and talking about it afterwards, not remembering that call, Shiro commends Lance, and that’s when he apologizes for yelling), but in the moment, Allura literally frames that as Shiro’s problem, not Lance’s. This is also the first time Lance has expressed any feeling like Shiro doesn’t have faith in him.

Coran as early as s1e4 makes a deliberate conscious choice to follow an upset Lance leaving the party and talk to him quite honestly about homesickness and missing Altea- which is about as big a deal as Shiro expressing his concerns to Lance in s5e6 because Coran rarely talks about how upset he is, and he’d barely known Lance at that point. In s1e9 he reminisces and talks to Lance and when he thinks Lance ditched their little chore session he’s genuinely upset.

Keith was shown to lack animosity for Lance from the start, made occasional sarcastic comments but outside of Shiro, Lance is one of the people Keith most consistently comes out of his shell and actually cracks jokes / gets playfully competitive with and as early as s1e7 has no issue very frankly stating Lance has a better plan and following it. During s3e6 Lance and Keith have a very honest heart to heart in which Keith makes a genuine effort to cheer Lance up.

In combat Lance is shown to be a dangerous and effective adversary who his enemies take seriously. I can’t think of any time he’s singled out by the team’s enemies as a weak link- in s3e6 versus Team Sincline, it’s Acxa- Lotor’s right hand- that targets and engages Lance while Narti, herself a devastatingly powerful fighter, jumps away from his shots leaving Acxa to take him on and Acxa has to move at a dead sprint to keep ahead of Lance’s shots. During early s3, Lance has the least difficulty flying a different Lion- in s3e3 he’s shown staying in formation with Hunk and Pidge, neither of whom switched Lions, while Keith pulls ahead of the group and Allura falls behind.

During diplomatic interactions with civilians and allies (noticeable examples include s3e1 and s4e4) Lance is notably one of the more popular members of the team and often accompanied by people who are taking pictures with him, seeking his autograph, or just generally thrilled by his presence.

Even Lotor has basically not responded to or engaged any of Lance’s insults towards him or expressed particular animosity towards Lance.

Lance also seems to have a very good relationship with the majority of if not the entirety of his family given how he thinks of them as a group and in s5e5 cries about how he misses his mom and grandmother and all three of his siblings.

The only context where Lance’s life is a barren wasteland of social connections, where people mock him, ignore him, shut him down, insult him, and belittle him- and the only context where he’s framed as incompetent, naive, or that this abuse is somehow warranted, is fanon.

In canon, every time Lance is shown to be insecure, he’s immediately contrasted with something within the episode. And even his insecurities aren’t “oh woe is me, no one validates me” as much as a very personal struggle with trying to find himself- what’s his role, does he have the qualities he thinks he does, who is he to other people?

So I tend to get... mad at “when will Lance get the respect he deserves” because that’s not something canon can do for you- the main place Lance is being widely disrespected is by people in the fandom that are really over-invested in viewing him as a tragic unloved person whose inner worthiness is never recognized.

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #readmore #Lance's team loves him!#People tend to like him right away!#He doesn't have a disproportionate amount of conflict with other characters compared to the rest of the team!

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etaeternum · 6 years ago

Text

Resolution

Bond of the Grey (Dragon Age Fanfic)

Ch 4

A flashback on the pain of Caoilainn’s infertility. The healing couple sets some rules. TW: Depression, infertility, referenced cheating.

9:35 Dragon

The third year, toward the end of their holiday at the cabin, they walked to Redcliffe Village to gather supplies for their trip back to Denerim. Merchants gawked at the royal couple’s candidness each time they came for supplies. The pair wandered the town with relaxed conversation until Caoilainn stopped in her tracks in the busy commotion in the village.

Alistair noticed she was not at his side from a few paces ahead. Brows furrowed with concern, he swiveled to see her staring. Following her eyes, he spotted a common woman holding hands with a small child as they walked through the crowd. Conversing with the little one, the mother pointed to something in the distance and looked back to her daughter with a wide smile. Alistair’s gaze followed where the woman pointed. A short distance away, a man who must have been the girl’s father bent to his knees and opened his arms. The little girl waddled to him. He scooped her up and lifted her into the air before bringing his giggling daughter in for a hug. The mother, still smiling, walked to them; she was expecting another child.

“Oh. I just remembered I probably left the lantern lit... and the front door wide open,” Alistair mumbled, painfully aware of the sensitive topic of their infertility highlighted by this happy family's sentimental moment. What had once been a distant hope for a miracle pregnancy had sharpened to stabbing hopelessness over the years. He knew it sank into her gut each time she witnessed a mother and child, even worse, an elated family. “Come on, my love. Let's get back.” Alistair put his arm around Caoilainn’s shoulder and ushered her to walk a different direction.

Caoilainn gave a blank nod, her eyes reddening, tears pooling as she turned away. She shielded her eyes with a free hand as they walked, hiding her tearful reaction. With no clear way to console her, apart from offering guidance, Alistair walked Caoilainn in silence back to the cabin. Grief-stricken mood swings often incited emotional distance. Alistair still didn't know how to handle them; his usual method of giving her space wasn’t an option.

The two entered the cabin. An unexpected change of pace, Caoilainn spoke. With a heavy sigh, her head lowered and shook before facing Alistair. “I don’t want to go back,” Caoilainn declared as the door clicked shut behind Alistair.

His head tilted to one side. He made careful choice of his words, “I’m sorry, my love but we have to go back. We can’t stay here.”

Her gaze met his, brows furrowed, pleading and angry. Stubborn by nature, Caoilainn's stance stood strong. “Alistair, I’m tired of it and I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s like I’m at my mother’s salons all the time.” She rolled her eyes. Elbows bent, her hands spread with her aggravated speech. A probing gaze searched for his understanding as her words fell. “I hate entertaining noble women and I’m certain they judge me for not giving you a child. And you know I want to, Alistair, more than anything. But I can’t.” Caoilainn’s final statement released with a tired sigh, “I’d rather be in armor.”

He snorted, a slight chuckle of agreement. “Oh, I know it. You and me both. I hate meetings with advisors, signing scrolls, sitting through court,” he walked to her and put his gentle hands on her shoulders. “But I need you, my love. The gorgeous, smart, strong Queen that you are. I need your help with all this King stuff.”

Alistair valued his wife's return to Denerim three years ago. If he ignored what he knew of her relationship with her Lieutenant, Caoilainn's presence gave him support and her experience as Warden Commander made for good counsel. The choice to enjoy her return and trust its permanence abated any urge to confront the issue.

Caoilainn took an intense turn to meet his gaze with a creased brow and set jaw. “Then let me come to your advisory meetings. I can add my thoughts in court. It would save time from you asking for my advice later when you need it.”

“Well,” his gaze wandered and his eyebrows gathered as the word trailed off. “It’s really more of a man’s game. You know what I mean? No girls allowed, so to speak. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t change the rules.”

The excuse lacked validity. Women held roles and had voice in his court though few. Representatives from varying regions of Ferelden primarily consisted of men. Alistair's aversion to Caoilainn’s proposition sprang from insecurity.

Disgusted, her mouth slacked, lip curled; she blinked in disbelief. Exaggerated and annoyed annunciation coated each word. “But you can. You’re the King, Alistair. You make the rules.” She shirked her shoulders away from his hands.

Cheeks reddened, Alistair shrugged and his palm rubbed his neck. “That’s true, I suppose but I don’t know if everyone else is ready for that. I’m sorry, my love. I’d rather not rock the boat too much just yet. I’m still fairly new to this King business.” He avoided her suggestion.

That same year Caoilainn returned to Vigil’s Keep.

Days passed. Alistair’s disdain became annoyance with longing; churning the strange amalgam of love and resentment, anger and pining with neither a catalyst nor relief in sight.

The size of the collective forces required the fleet to march north through the Emerald Graves, reaching the low-lying Dales. Plains of open field skirted the forested land east until the frigid climate of the Emprise. Wider ground permitted the armies to march freely, less encumbered by the wooded environment. Grass and sparse trees spread through the large valley. Formations of rocks protruded from the earth, breaking up the uneven grasslands. Abandoned buildings showed remnants of complicated history, and occupied military bases needing repair scattered between boulders.

Alistair’s frustration came and went in waves as he stood away from the bustling camp unpacking for the evening. Instead, he observed the land ahead. Typical, he noted. She's given up. It often seemed habitual for Caoilainn to practice evasion of situations where she didn't have control. Reminded of her predictability, Alistair evaluated her absence as true to her pattern. Though he wasn’t surprised, the realization hurt.

“Alistair?” A tentative and careful voice rang from behind; she stated simply his name. He closed his eyes. With a deep breath, he allowed Caoilainn’s voice to resonate and soothe stressed nerves, unable to deny he had missed the sound.

He replied without facing her. “Come join me to revel in the wondrous sight of the Orlesian countryside.” His sarcastic sing-song voice played at the deteriorating environment. Caoilainn’s quiet steps brought her to his side; Alistair pointed. “See, on this side is a crumbling Orlesian building. But over here is a collapsed military base because of civil war- Orlesians love civil war, you know.” He took in an excessive gasp, “And if you look far enough in the distance, you can even make out decayed elven architecture. Isn’t it lovely? We should come back here on holiday.”

“I’ll pass,” she gave a relaxed giggle, amused with Alistair’s review of the landscape. Relieved to receive his humor after spending days hesitating to approach him again. His playfulness made uplifting distraction from her fatigue. “I’d rather the cabin.”

She referred to the cabin outside of Redcliffe Village: the peaceful resting place purchased the first time she returned from Vigil’s Keep. After each Summerday the royal couple hid for a month in the mountains, away from the city. The visits ceased when Caoilainn fled back to the Wardens.

“I sold it,” Alistair replied without moving, his tone cold and indifferent. “The second year you were gone, I couldn’t reach you. I wouldn’t use it and I didn’t want the reminder of the good times we had there.”

“They weren’t all good times,” Caoilainn’s sad murmur echoed his aloofness. Her fond memories of the cabin had been sullied by Alistair’s timidity when she confronted him about changing policies.

Their last conversation at the cabin, not one of his finest moments, had replayed until his stomach turned. Nauseated and ashamed of his cowardice, regret singed his ego, now prodded by her murmur. “I’m sorry,” Alistair snapped an authentic but irritated apology.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” she mirrored his remorse with her own.

Amends hesitated; silence burdened with the unsaid. Side by side, the pair stood looking out on the horizon as dusk fell. Tacit reconciliation teetered on a cusp.

Emotion broke through Alistair’s tone. Sadness and regret sounded from the surface and underneath it, fear. “I don’t know what to do,” he explained. “Whether you cheat on me, or you run, or you die-” The last word stung. Alistair’s head made a quick turn as the impact hit. He inhaled. “How do I know you’re not just going to leave?” Like everyone does. Pain filled his incredulous question.

A teary gaze up from Alistair’s side, Caoilainn wiped her eyes. “I’m here and I'm not going anywhere. I’m committed, Alistair. I’ll do my best not to die anytime soon, but in the meantime I want to be with you. What do you need from me to prove that?”

“Rules,” his even tone gave a quick reply. Head turned to pierce her stare, he bit his lip for a moment then replied, jaw firm. “I need rules we agree on.”

Brows furrowed, unclear of his demand, she asked for clarification, “What sort of rules?”

“No one else,” he answered with his first rule. “It’s our marriage, not to be shared with anyone. No matter the distance between us, and no matter the time before we see each other again.”

“Of course,” she gave a hurried nod, “that’s a given.”

“Well, I figured I would make it clear, in case you had any other plans.”

Caoilainn sighed at his admonishment. “Alistair,” she groaned.

“I’m not done, my love,” he said, his sharp tone lifting as his mood softened. “Rule two: be honest with me. I want no more secrets.” Caoilainn’s silent nod gave him a signal to continue. “Rule three: Don’t make your decisions based on me. I don’t want your counsel if you’ll resent me for it. Don’t come back to Denerim to make me happy.”

“Thank you,” she cooed. Unhealthy elements of their relationship often arose from ill-considered efforts to satisfy the other. Caoilainn smiled; her tense shoulders eased.

“Uh-huh,” he took her gratitude and gave a meager grin. “But that one’s for my sake as much as yours. Rule four: do not undermine me. I am the King of Ferelden, Caoilann and I need your respect.”

“My fealty stands, Alistair,” her hand covered her chest as she bowed her head. “No undermining. Do you have any other rules?”

“At the moment, just one. Tell me what you want from me. Please, if you’re missing something, if you need something, I need to know.”

“Those rules are fair,” she agreed. Her head lowered as she sought words. “I’ll need my own.”

“All right. State your terms, my Queen.” He lifted his arms, palms out. “Remember to go easy on me.”

Caoilainn gave a playful roll of her eyes. “One,” she lifted her finger to exemplify the word. “I need my independence. I’m not just your lovely Queen. No more spies and I want my own work. Most importantly, I want to be recognized for it.”

“Oh, woman,” Alistair snorted and rubbed his chin. “I said go easy on me. Damn, you drive a hard deal.” Caoilainn’s brows lifted, waiting for his confirmation. “We’ll make it work, my love.”

“Two: Don’t appease me. Don’t hold your frustration, anger or sadness and take it out on me ten years later.”

“Got it. Must bottle feelings for less than ten years,” he bobbed his head in agreement, a playful grin highlighting his jest.

“Alistair,” she groaned, failing her attempt to withhold a chuckle. “I’m not kidding.”

“No appeasing,” he confirmed. “Check. It’s a real shame though. I’m definitely the best appeaser I know.”

“Three: I won't make your decisions for you. I’m your wife, not your mother.”

“Ouch!” Alistair laughed and cupped his hand over his heart.

“I mean it,” she assured, her expression showing her severity. “Four: I stay Commander until we find a cure.” Alistair’s eyes squinted, humor lost. “Or until the Inquisition no longer needs us, then I’ll come back to Denerim. But I still want to make time for the search.” He gave a solemn nod and waited for her final rule. Caoilainn’s eyes widened, her face pleading, palms lifted. “Nate is my friend. I swear to you, nothing will happen between us, but he’ll need me if he takes over as Commander. Five: I keep communication with Nathaniel when I return to the city.”

The wisdom Caoilainn gained as Commander occurred when she undertook rebuilding the order on her own. Alistair's duties as King kept him from joining. She stayed embittered by his abandonment, neglecting her anger around the topic until she confessed her pain at Skyhold.

Frowning, Alistair gave a decisive shake of his head. “I can’t have that,” he replied. “I don’t trust him, Caoilainn and that would challenge the trust I need to rebuild with you.”

“It’s not that simple. There’s so much to leading the order, communications with Weisshaupt, the other divisions. I can’t just leave him to figure it out like I had to,” she reasoned, desperate to explain the complicated nature of taking over as Warden Commander.

“No,” Alistair reiterated, predicting her rationalization. “You can find someone else to command or he can communicate with me, the King if he needs help.”

“Alistair,” she made a curt statement of his name as if he might hear the harshness of this requirement. Unmoving, Alistair peered down at Caoilainn, set in his decision. With a deep breath in, Caoilainn centered herself, calming her nerves and worry surrounding her potential successor. She gave a patient nod. Her future with Alistair dependent on this priority made the choice simple. “I understand.”

Resolution discovered, conversation assuaged years of bitterness and guilt. Mutual observance of reaction found amity. The two faced each other, Caoilainn in her Warden gambeson, Alistair in his leather brigandine; the Inquisition camp nearly set for the evening on one side and the open field of the Exalted Plains spread on the other.

“The rules can change.” Alistair broke their respectful silence. His hands found their way back to her shoulders. “But we need to talk should they be changed, expanded, or added to.”

“I appreciate that,” Caoilainn replied and held his gaze. Eyes locked, intense in agreement. Her excited heart fluttered with gratitude as relief washed over. The looming fear she might lose him vanished, bringing appreciative tears in place. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied. Effortless words, unneeded, understood by both, and spoken out of familiarity.

Rules set, hearts lifted, and hope renewed, both given an opportunity for redemption. Alistair’s anger now distant with her assurance and commitment; Caoilainn’s blind trust affirmed by his ardent love.

Alistair stepped in. Bodies pressed, a hand moved from her shoulder to her neck, his thumb pressed against her cheek. The other hand found her waist. Foreheads touched, thankful for reunion, absorbing hard earned connection. Alistair’s head lowered; earnest lips found hers, sealing their agreement with a kiss.

In unspoken congruity, the pair walked from the camp. Extending the harmony of this unifying outcome, savoring the moment in ardor. Like-minded steps carried them through the plains as darkness fell. The two walked in reverence. Stars shined from the clear sky, illuminating their path. Unhurried conversation allowed time to wander; flirtatious subtleties mixed through their dialogue more as the hour drew late. The Inquisition camp drifted from sight.

Concordant, the couple stopped as if reaching their intended destination. A tree marked the location. Its drooping limbs and base composed of many wide segments was unlike the barren branches of timber in the rest of the plains.

Caoilainn turned to face him. “We made it,” she whispered, distinguishing their wordless communication of intention. A few steps backward brought her under the tree’s protective arms.

“We did,” Alistair echoed, following her steps until they were both under the branches’ haven.

Steady steps, Caoilainn’s back bumped the tree and Alistair closed the space, pinning her so the thick trunk stood between them and the Inquisition camp. A small whimper released, Caoilainn’s hand grabbed the cord linking his spaulder. She pulled him in for a kiss. Engaged, the pair locked mouths. Alistair’s hand returned to the base of her scalp and their tongues separated lips, twirling in celebration of reunion.

Long seconds stretched by, love rekindling to fire until Alistair broke away. Caoilainn’s moan resonated as her neck tilted. Revealing sensitive skin begging to be bitten or throttled in a primal nature.

“I have another rule,” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against the tender skin of her neck before leaving a gentle kiss.

Caoilainn emitted a soft ‘mmm,’ lost in anticipation for him to inflict brief anguish to stimulate pleasure.

“Rule six: no more pain. I’m not hurting you, Caoilainn. Even if you like it,” he murmured into her ear. The curve of his grin tickled.

Her hum turned to a whine; a disappointed groan unhappy with this information. She lifted her head, returning his gaze; displeased brows furrowed, lip protruded in a subtle pout. Something she discovered in her time away from Alistair, Caoilainn's penchant for masochism, built on a foundation of trust in whoever delivered the sensations, offered a reliable escape from life's pressures.

His wrinkled forehead reconnected with hers. “There’s already been enough pain between us.” Light earnest explained details of the rule, “But I reserve the right to grab that magnificent ass, and I might take an occasional nibble here and there, but no pain. If you want to get hurt, go practice in the training yard.”

She gazed up from under thick lashes and inhaled; her face relaxed, and she agreed. “Yes, my King.”

Alistair blinked, cherishing her reply, and allowing its essence to sink in. The authentic tone delivered three words and promised her total commitment, confidence, and faith in him as her protector; he grinned. “Rule seven: keep doing that. I like it when you do that.”

Caoilainn smirked and crooned another “yes, my King.” She tilted her head back against the tree, waiting for his next step.

Both hands found her waist, a half step back permitted momentum along with her compliance. In a quick motion, he turned her around to face the tree. A kiss on her clothed back coerced her head to turn to glance over her shoulder. She watched as he admired her form from behind. A hand cupped a muscular cheek of her rear.

“Rule eight: trust me,” he growled.

Caoilainn's body quivered, grateful adoration coursed through her veins. Extolling Alistair's direction, his certainty permitted her concerns to leave, replaced instead with freedom to savor their connectedness.

He squeezed her cheek harder, rougher with a satisfied grunt. In reply she moaned, frustrated with her limitations caused by clothing.

Alistair's head wandered to the other side of her neck, lips brushing skin, hot breath against her ear. “Rule nine: tell me if you don't like something I’m doing.”

“I like this, my King,” she whimpered, fleeting tension fled. Gooseflesh spread down her neck, tingling down her arms to her hands. She steadied herself on the tree.

“Rule ten: tell me what you want,” he ordered between kisses on her shoulders.

A giggling moan sounded, tempted by his affection, but amused at his last rule. “That was rule five.” Tactful teeth found her ear and nipped lightly on the cartilage. Her giggle lowered into a blissful sigh. “My King,” she added.

“Mm-hmm,” he sang. “You’re paying attention. That one is so important I said it twice. So, my love, what do you want?”

Decorum forgotten, responsibilities to the Wardens fled from her mind. Love brimmed, overflowing from every pore. Smiling lips buzzed pleasurably and Caoilainn whispered, “I want you, my King.”

#mother of griffons pt 2 #bond of the grey #mother of griffons #dragon age fanfic #chapter 4 #king alistair #queen cousland #alistair x cousland #abandonment #relationship issues #established relationship #referenced cheating #infertility

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