#they’re a fascinating bunch if given the time to explore them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

planckstorytime · 8 months ago

Text

Final Fantasy VII Rebirth: A World Beyond Anger (Part Five)

V. A Generous Interpretation…

Ordinarily, I eschew theories and predictions about where an ongoing story might lead, because I prefer to withhold a holistic reading of a text until the text is… well, whole. But at the risk of doing exactly what the marketing team wants from me, I must make an exception. To be honest, I don’t actually believe that we’re dealing with alternate timelines or discrete universes in the traditional (i.e. dumb mass media) sense. Upon visiting Cosmo Canyon, a nameless NPC has some easily missed dialogue that sheds some light on how we’re meant to interpret what’s happening:

“So… my parents are no longer with us – here, that is – but I believe they’re still out there, on another plane. I’ve been reading a bunch of theories on this alternate world in the hope of going there someday. And over the course of my studies, I stumbled across a fascinating theory. It addressed the issue of what the lifestream is, arguing that spiritual energy is actually a manifestation of our knowledge and memories. Like I said, it’s a fascinating theory… but it’s incomplete. What about our hopes and dreams? We remember those, don’t we? So what if spiritual energy doesn’t distinguish between our real, lived memories and the unrealized desires buried deep in our hearts? What if coming into contact with that energy allowed us to ‘peer through the looking glass,’ so to speak? It’s just an idea, but… I hope to find the truth someday.”

A tagline for Rebirth is “What is fact and what is fiction?” While this cryptic ad copy definitely alludes to Cloud’s false memories, I suspect it also hints at the nature of these alternate worlds – namely, that they’re illusory.

The world we explore through Zack’s eyes doesn’t add up. Supposedly, all of the events of Remake occurred just prior to his arrival, but that doesn’t account for why he’s arrived several months later than he should have, or how he carries a comatose Cloud in tow. Biggs, who also seemingly died, likewise appears in this world. He remembers Cloud from his adventures in part one. As if this asynchronous timeline wasn’t enough, both Zack and Biggs mention that their internal clocks seem broken – they can’t tell how much time has passed since they arrived. Meanwhile, the world has suddenly withered without anyone noticing, and an ominous crack of doom looms in the sky. Far from the radiant golden glow that we saw in the closing cutscene of the first installment, this Midgar evokes a fanciful dream morphed into a nightmare.

I believe that these separate takes on reality are manifestations within the lifestream – demi-realities given the illusion of form through the echo of subconscious desires. Keeping with the Freudian theme, we can surmise that such desires materialize as dreams. Aerith likely left some sort of metaphysical impression when she zapped the plot ghosts at the end of Remake. Everyone who shows up in this nonsensical dream world are people that she knew, pantomiming their lives through the ever darkening scenario. Just as we populate our dreams with the people we know in the waking world, I believe most of the individuals in these worlds are projections based on how Aerith views them, acting as she unconsciously directs them. The exceptions are Zack and Biggs, who appear more like errant ghosts, drawn in by her unfulfilled desires for their survival. If we compare this evidence to the narrative’s broader conflict between the pleasure principle and the death drive, we can deduce the following: To deny death is to master desire; to master desire is to live in a dream.

The original story’s lifestream sequence provides us with the smoking gun for this explanation – the presence of the same golden rift across the sky that we see in both Zack’s world and Cloud’s perspective during the ending cutscene. Within the demi-realities, this crack in the fabric of the universe portends the coming apocalypse. But perhaps it really symbolizes the fleeting succor that these delusions provide before crumbling to the inescapable truth? Fate seems determined to correct these worlds (perhaps reflective of the grieving process), as different iterations still end with Biggs dead and Zack facing an onslaught of Shinra gunfire.

The previously linked chart of the “timelines” posits that Cloud creates a new timeline where he saves Aerith during the finale. As explained, I disagree with this being a logical, causality-driven event, and suggest that it’s instead fundamentally illogical. Aerith’s apparent survival comes from Cloud’s denial of reality – his inability to cope with failure and loss. Whether she’s a projection on a transitory plane or entirely a figment of Cloud’s imagination, the point stands that it’s an unnatural, unhealthy, artificial existence. I do not think she is alive in both body and spirit somewhere, or that the confluence and sundering of worlds somehow sends one spirit to the afterlife and leaves the other alive and conscious. If that’s the case, then that is extremely stupid, and would paint the party’s inability to see what Cloud sees as a deficiency on their part. Cloud is not red-pilled; he does not see an omniverse while all the plebeians stare at shadows on the wall of a cave. Making him perceptive of real, tangible worlds beyond normal observation would devastate his character arc, which hinges on him accepting his weakness and shattering his delusions.

With all due respect to other theorists, I believe that the rainbow light denotes not the splitting of timelines, but instead points of interference within the lifestream. We see the rainbows appear when summoning entities from materia, when interacting with lifesprings, and even when transitioning into the Fort Condor minigame (consider the authenticity of those literal toys in relation to the memory-images of people in these alternate worlds). I can see why some players interpret the rainbow as a path of divergence, since it recalls the image of light passing through a prism. But I think that rainbows can have many meanings: unity, inclusion, hope, etc. For this reading, though, I’d like to draw attention to what rainbows really are – tricks of light, illusions toward which humans commonly ascribe superstitious awe. From Biblical covenants to viral internet videos that you haven’t thought of in over a decade, rainbows captivate onlookers, who assign them phenomenal importance. Rainbows, however, lack substance – they cannot be touched, they cannot give you that promised pot of gold. They provide temporary bliss and then fade, as all insubstantial novelties do. Seeing one in an oil spill doesn’t mean the environment’s not in danger. Thus, I think Rebirth’s use of rainbows factors into ideas of perception, delusions, and coping mechanisms.

If there’s any validity to this interpretation, then where should the story go from here? Well, Kitase said in an interview with Vandal that, although the final entry in the trilogy will culminate in a happy ending, it won’t be “sunshine and rainbows.” Perhaps that’s a hint, perhaps it’s a Freudian slip, or perhaps I am projecting my own desires onto my reading. Regardless, I think the dissolution of these dream purgatories is the only satisfying way to close this plotline. The worlds seem condemned to perish soon after their nascence. They’re only born when fate’s boundaries are breached, which can’t be an everyday occurrence. Cloud even describes the planet as “screaming” in agony as a response to this fission and fusion.

Cloud and Aerith’s dream worlds seemingly emerge as wishful fabrications where their loved ones live on, but the latter goes on to explain that death is a natural part of life:

“Y’know… If you think about it, life and death are just two sides of the same coin. Our bodies may disappear when we die, but our spirits still live on. We return to the planet, rejoin the lifestream, and – in time – give rise to new life.”

Aerith rebukes Sephiroth’s desire to forge an everlasting world, claiming there’s no such thing as “forever.” Cheating death comes naturally for him, and so the conflict won’t end until he, like everyone, accepts his mortality. Far ahead of him, the apparition of Aerith at the end refers to her current location as a “second home” – alluding to the multiple references of death as a “homecoming” and confirming her acceptance of her passing.

Cloud’s repression has taken root, and he must learn the truth in order to dissolve the false reality that he’s conjured. Through a veil of static interference immediately following her death, the player can see Cloud silently mouthing the words that he initially uttered there in the 1997 title. I believe he gives the same speech here, too, only to erase it from his conscious memory and escape into his delusions. As with Zack, so with Aerith.

This is why I really appreciate what they did with Tifa in the Gongaga section. At first, I was hesitant toward the premature revelation about her mother’s death, but now I see it as a potential setup for an emotionally resonant scene in part three. Cloud and Tifa will inevitably fall into the lifestream, where she will help him reconstruct his memories and accept his true self, as dictated by the source material. However, I think now she will also aid him in overcoming his grief about Aerith.

“You saved me before; now it’s my turn.”

Tifa says this to Cloud after recounting their shared childhood trauma. Unknowingly marching toward her death, Tifa believed that her departed mother was waiting for her across the Mount Nibel. Cloud intercepted her and tried to free her from her delusions. I hope that we see her repay him in the final game – she will bring him back to reality and help him to move on. The dead are gone forever. The best way to honor their memory is not repression, or regression, or Reunion – but progression, living for the future, and pacifying that drive toward death (inevitable though it may be).

In the end, Aerith says it best:

“I get it, I really do. Knowing that the people we love aren’t really gone? It doesn’t make it any easier to let them go. It still hurts. So we can’t just think of it as a ‘homecoming.’ ‘Cause it’s not that simple. We’ve all experienced pain. We all have our regrets. What we’ve done – what’s been done to us – that’s set in stone. The past is forever. But the future – even if it has been written – can be changed.”

Should the writing of the third entry opt to follow this path, rather than the full-on comic book multiverse option, I’ll find it more agreeable – maybe even moving.

Something is still missing, though. For some reason, those assurances still aren’t enough for me.

FULL ESSAY: https://planckstorytime.wordpress.com/2024/05/11/final-fantasy-vii-rebirth-a-world-beyond-anger/

0 notes

variousqueerthings · 2 years ago

Text

giving the new hellraiser an extra half star on letterboxd just to spite the people who’re being really grumpy about it, because most of the time people are either

a. overly comparing it to the original in a way that doesn’t actually address the lore-building in this movie on its own merits (just “oh the Cenobites don’t look the same as they used to,” “oh this wasn’t how it was in the original,” etc)

b. calling the main character “annoying” which immediately makes me lose interest in a review about a movie with an interesting female protagonist

also some other feelings about it (with heavy spoilers), many of which are sentiments I didn’t see explored on letterboxd (although I didn’t go too far because I’d have just been annoyed):

Horror definitely is too glossy these days as a whole, I will agree with that, and Hellraiser especially is something that could benefit from more grit and sweat and tactile sex, however this one DID give us some wonderful things:

- The conceptual Drag Looks, really fascinating elevated aesthetics (Cenobite Aesthetes - arbiters of Taste - that sounds about right for them). My watch-partner and I loved every Cenobite, they really went off with the designs, and with pushing the genderlessness of them. I wish there were more body-types though, they ought to be past the idea that thinness = elevation, especially since a bunch of them barely look human at all! (I’m going to assume that they’re also around, since there was a fat Cenobite in the original, but wish the movie itself had thought of doing that)

I like the meta-choice of casting Jamie Clayton as well. Since she was playing the lead-priest, there was a sense of worship being placed on her body-as-a-trans-body as well as having achieved the ultimate form of beauty and transformation (in the case of the movie “their body”, since the Cenobites are genderless)

I loved how fundamentally Alien they were once more, fully operating under their own, clear (to them) rules. And I liked that by the end the main character figured out how to play by those rules too.

- Obviously will always think the BDSM/kink "pleasure and pain" element of them ought to be more of a focal point than it's ever been since the first movie, but I was pretty into this idea of being given a gift and it being filtered through this inherently alien worldview (not evil, just alien). The box was always a gift after all.

The gore was fully Happening, a lot of it based in flaying, which is especially yeurgh to me, but like yay for the gore! (even though I was watching with my hands over my eyes). Speaking of “not enough sexy” there was time dedicated and focus and... practically tenderness? to a lot of those scenes that definitely made them feel like BDSM play!

Head-Cenobite genuinely thought the lead was kind of sexy for choosing a lifetime of bitterness and regret, was like "damn that's kinkier than I've ever been."

- Also opens up some interesting questions (that would need a TV series to go into with more depth) about the nature of sensation, power-dynamics, worship, pleasure and pain, and of course about grief. Her brother was dead from almost the beginning and it was her fault, and throughout it all she's spiralling into this desperate attempt to save him somehow despite it all, and she could have ended up taking the Cenobites gift, despite knowing it's poison -- she's a very coherent character who makes a lot of smart decisions, while staving off the reality that her relapsing led to her brother's death, it's a neat arc.

It’s got a lot of questions in it, and a lot of lore to play with

- My one real nitpick (apart from the need for more sexiness of the Actual Sex variety) is that Trevor's motives were too shallow to fully allow his betrayal to feel real. I called him from the start, but kept expecting more of an explanation. The idea that he's willingly engaging in this extreme violence "just" for money, only for him to turn around and seem kind of apologetic was a bit weak. Should've let him go full-bastard OR full-bastard-but-I-love-you-babe-despite-not-planning-to, not this kind of halfway "eh, this maybe went a bit far, but I'll stand by and let it happen I guess?" like... my guy. These people are gonna be doomed to eternal torment and it seems like you knew that. At what point was it too far for you?

Overall this concept: what is life, but one big sensation? savour it all, even (especially) the pain.

My favourite since the original for sure

#hellraiser #hellraiser 2022 #the monstrous feminine continues!#im watching movies #also: i downloaded it as 720p rather than the full 1080 #and i actually tihnk it may have done it some good because ours was definitely grittier in texture which works for the story

13 notes · View notes

alrightyfruits · 3 years ago

Note

Ke wasn’t ever racist there’s been poc from the literal start. Bunch of whiney white people wrote in harassing them about it and y’all got what you wanted, cut all of villanelles screen time and added on useless characters because they’re not white. Gave more screen time to eve, who sorry isn’t as interesting as v and the show plummeted. Simple.

Wow, where to begin?

The first two seasons were great at balancing Eve's and Villanelle's storylines. Phoebe and Emerald understood the importance of Eve, of her tumultuous dynamic with Villanelle. Suzanne and Laura did not. They botched the last two seasons by sidelining Eve, in favour of mediocre plots that weren't at the essence of the show.

Eve was sidelined in season 3 so the writers could explore Villanelle's past.

Eve was sidelined in season 4 so the writers could explore Carolyn's past, and create a back door pilot to her show.

The last two seasons propped up white characters over the Korean lead, and that is not okay. We were never given an in depth exploration into Eve's past.

Eve, the titular character never got the deep dive she deserved. The TITULAR character. We know nothing about her, not like we do about Carolyn. It's indefensible.

The show plummeted, because the last two head writers jumped the shark. They ignored their main character, and embraced the lore of the show that nobody was invested in. Nobody was in it for the 12. The viewers were in it for Eve's inevitable darkness coming to the fruition, and the relationship between her and Villanelle.

So instead of Eve's darkness, learning what made her tick, instead of the intense dynamic between Eve and Villanelle, we got an uneven, out of place couple of seasons.

Eve and Villanelle are both fascinating characters, and they both bring out a desire in each other that is tantalising to watch.

To say Eve isn't as interesting as V, tells me that you don't understand the show, and what made it great.

Eve was treated appallingly the last two seasons. And yes, the way she was sidelined on her own show, was racist.

#apologies if this is incoherent #anon you dont know what you're talking about full offense #killing eve

27 notes · View notes

sepublic · 4 years ago

Text

Infinity Train Book 4 Trailer!

BOOK 4 TRAILER!!!!

Ryan and Min! Those are our names, Ryan is the one with the glasses, and I think Min is Asian rep? If so, NICE…! Also, the gay vibes for these two are off the charts, the whole premise feels like the Infinity Train is doing couples counselling for these two, and I ain’t complaining! Already I’m seeing concerns about Amelia and Hazel not playing a major role here, and while I DO think they’ll likely cameo at least, given the outfits that Ryan and Min are wearing… Honestly, same.

But! At the same time, I appreciate and am glad for the show to take an even more anthological, experimental trope that doesn’t necessarily tie back to past arcs, either! It seems that Ryan and Min are best friends with a knack for music who want to be a band, make it big… But there also seems to be some relationship issues, perhaps Ryan taking risks, while Min is having a more pragmatic mindset, and possibly settling on being more ‘realistic’? With how Min is chasing Ryan onto the train, and how that leads them into the Infinity Train… I have to wonder if Ryan did something rash behind Min’s back where he went ahead and bought tickets without permission, and then revealed this at the last second to rope Min along? This would just contribute to their initially vitriolic interaction, which the Call Bell picks up on, assuming they’re worst enemies. Worst enemies… That sounds like another interesting prompt, although one might argue that Min and Ryan ALSO serve that as well!

This season could be about best friends, probably boyfriends, finding themselves going in different directions as they grow up, and coping with that… Likewise, I have to wonder if the Infinity Train meant to pick up only Ryan, and Min tagging along made things weird. Are their numbers synced because they went on at the same time, and is it related to Ryan’s issues specifically? Or is it both of them; Did the Train mean to pick up both, or adapt? Either way I’m glad the show is exploring these kinds of questions more…

For example, does their synced number represent their shared relationship problem together? Can Ryan go up, while Min goes down, and vice-versa? Are they both handling two halves of the same problem, or are their numbers completely synced, keeping track of not so much an individual, as the specific relationship; With the number being a record of their relationship’s development, not so much the individuals? That’d be fascinating, with Min and Ryan HAVING to stick together to get their shared number down together… Was this intentional, planned out by the Infinity Train as One One is expanding things, and/or the result of adapting to a fluke? Were both hands overlaid one another as the number was written? Similarly, perhaps each number is separate and tied to the individual, but they both share a problem; So Min and Ryan can make different amounts of progress, or even find separate solutions entirely?

Likewise, Min and Ryan are wearing the same kind of outfits as Amelia and Hazel. Are they being called on as technicians to help with the Infinity Train, or more likely… Is this part of One One’s changes to the train to make it more interactive and user-friendly, by designating them possibly giving them proper supplies to start off with and survive, after the mess that was the Apex and ITS valid concerns brought up? We see a fully-repaired Steward (or another one, there might be more) showing up, so perhaps Min and Ryan get into trouble with the Infinity Train’s mechanisms that involves Amelia and Hazel; OR, One One is just checking up on them as a more responsive and attentive conductor!

Dunno Call Bell’s name, but it seems like she’s acting as a neutral, intermediary party, an outside opinion of sorts to give feedback on how Min and Ryan’s relationship is going. With how dark this show can be, a part of me is afraid that Min and Ryan may end up splitting off at the end, even if it is on healthy terms… But as long as it’s handled maturely, I guess I can’t complain. I’m wondering if Samantha and Randall will also make their obligatory appearances, and I’m REALLY hoping for Amelia and Hazel; Perhaps Min and Ryan will stumble into a malfunctioning car? And Amelia and Hazel will meet them there? Regardless, I’m glad to see this show go into more experimental venues and prompts, ideas that discuss and explore the world and its mechanics; And if we want to see the show keep doing this, and eventually give its resolution to Amelia and Hazel…

WE BETTER WATCH IT Y’ALL! A BUNCH! AND ROPE EVERYONE ELSE INTO WATCHING IT TOO!!! If you’re reading this and haven’t watched Infinity Train, DO IT!

#infinity train #infinity train book 4 #infinity train duet #infinity train Ryan #Ryan akagi #infinity train min #min-gi park #infinity train kez #speculation #theory #analysis

92 notes · View notes

piracytheorist · 3 years ago

Note

Since the first thing that strikes me about re8, story-wise, is that it seems to be all over the place? Again, I’ve no idea how it ties to previous games but it feels like this parental/mother-child theme is just hanging there with no resolution at all? I mean yes, Ethan saved his daughter, presumably breaking some sort of abuse cycle, yay, congrats, but what about his wife/gf? Isn’t she supposed to be like the main protagonist of the story of a mother bereaved to the point of tyrannical madness

Or rather, this specific story is not the right choice for his character since there’s SO many ethical and philosophical issues and questions implied but never properly explored because of Ethan’s ‘fuck you, idc’ attitude (which is completely understandable in those circumstances but adds virtually nothing to the plot and arguably even ruins it a bit). Heisenberg could’ve been an excellent ally with fascinating grey morality (provided the writers wouldn’t push him to the point of absolute insanity and let freedom, not power-hunger be his main goal and motivation for rebellion).And again, aren’t the lords supposed to represent child development stages? In which case Ethan what? Kills the possibility of some evil version of Rose? Or his own chance to experience fatherhood throughout all of those stages? Either way, it seems a bit… weird to have a Parent destroy multiple people whose main relevance to the plot is that they’re children of an abusive antagonist in a storyline so extremely focused on parent/kid relationships.

I feel like the main theme of re8 is not just parenthood/motherhood, but the relationship itself of the parent to the child. There's a lot of mentions to "children being used". Miranda kidnapping people, experimenting on them and mutating them and then treating them like they're her kids; Miranda kidnapping and practically killing Rose; Dimitrescu making daughters out of reanimated corpses she experimented on; Heisenberg wanting to use Rose's powers, etc etc.

And it's important that Miranda is at the center of this. There's something very interesting she says to Ethan in her boss fight:

"Why do you interfere? Surely you have no need of Rose now, so close to death?"

And that's where her mistake was. Ethan wasn't doing all that because he needed Rose herself. He was doing it to save her, fully aware that he wasn't going to be a part of her life cause he knew he was dying. Miranda was way too dependent on her love for Eva - and like, I honestly get it that losing your child can devastate you (if anything my fear of that is one of the reasons I don't want to have kids) - so much that her life literally revolved around her child. Once Eva died, Miranda wanted to die. Once she found the Megamycete and discovered she maybe had a chance to bring Eva back, she dedicated her entire life and ruined multiple others to do just that. Her one and biggest need was to get Eva back. It wasn't a simple want or wish. It was a need. She'd get her child back, damn everyone else - including other people's children.

Miranda had no-one to blame directly; Eva had died from the influenza, it wasn't like she had any chance to change things. Ethan's case was different; he had people to blame, particularly, the one who kidnapped Rose and dismembered her, and her lackeys who kept said parts and fought him for trying to take them back.

So on one end, you have a parent who lost her child due to a tragedy, and ended up destroying other - innocent - lives in order to get her back. On the other, you have a parent who lost his child due to a crime, and ended up going after the criminals responsible in order to get the child back. Like, it wasn't even revenge, and it wasn't that he "needed" Rose in his life. He simply wanted to save her and ensure she'll be alright.

I fully agree it could have been Mia as the protagonist in re8, and that it was a wasted opportunity to simply fridge her and have her in the sidelines angsting over her husband. But whether it was Mia or Ethan as the protagonist, I feel like the theme that I explained above does offer a resolution, showing the opposites of Miranda and Ethan, and ending Miranda's tyrrany of her "need" to have her child back through Ethan's determination to ensure his child's safety and happiness - even if he doesn't get to be a part of any of that later on. Miranda showed obsession; Ethan showed dedication.

And this is how I see the abuse cycle breaking and the resolution is reached; an obsessed parent hurt a good parent's child to bring their own child back - the good parent's dedication stopped the former, allowing the former's tyrrany to end and their child to grow up safe.

Seeing as this is a horror game, I don't tend to focus on the morality issues (if I'm interpreting your second message correctly). Like, the developers are making a grant effort to put us in Ethan's shoes, first-person POV, plain character protagonist and all; our child got kidnapped and practically murdered, and we have the chance to bring her back. We'll absolutely raise hell to the people who are responsible for it and we will get our child back, fuck any moral dilemmas we might have. When someone is threatening your life, you have the ability to kill them to defend yourself. In the case of a caring parent, that ability may multiply by a lot when the threat is towards their child. And I feel that this is what the game explored in the end. Though the whole survival issue is taxing on Ethan, he doesn't give a damn about who he has to kill if it means saving his daughter - but again, it's only the responsible parties. We see how watching all the people at Luisa's house die affected him, and even before Elena died, he wanted to ensure her safety before he went searching for Rose; he is sympathetic and morally rational, but also capable of cold-blooded murder if someone is threatening his child. To a lesser extent, we saw that in re7 too. With his life on the line, he killed Jack (multiple times) and Marguerite, and at the end he recognized how they were actually victims of Eveline. But they were still actively trying to murder him so he wasn't given the chance to help them. With Zoe, he promised to send help, and he did, even wanting to talk to her once she'd been rescued by her uncle and Chris. The same applies to re8, but as I said, it's multiplied since it's his daughter who's in danger, and the end of re8 proves he cares for her safety more than his own.

Now, all that said, I think it's important to note how it's stil a Resident Evil game. I haven't actually played or watched any playthroughs of other games, but the basic concept in these games, from what I understand, is that the player shoots zombies; ex-human beings who have lost any human mentality and will just come for your throat if you don't kill them first. They're not humans anymore, they can't be reasoned or sympathized with. It's not really an issue of morality, ethics or philosophy. Your life, and the life of your child in the case of re8, are in danger. You don't give a shit. You just start shooting and hope for the best. Again, I don't know if the morality issue is explored in other RE games, but to be honest... Resident Evil doesn't sound like the kind of franchise that's thematically into going super deep into the morality of shooting zombies to save your life.

I have to admit I haven't thought of the Lords being representative of child development stages. I think they could be put as Moreau being a toddler, fully dependent on their parent - funnily enough, the Greek word for baby is "moro", pronounced almost exactly the way "Moreau" is pronounced in the game - Donna as a child, Heisenberg as a (rebellious?) teenager, and Dimitrescu as a late teen/young adult (if anything, Dimitrescu seems to behave like the eldest child of the bunch). But I'm not sure the connection that has to Ethan as a father, if anything because the bosses are fought in complete random order of age, if my analysis is correct. Like, I understand the symbolism behind the Lords' behaviours, maybe as you said they represent the obstacles Ethan had to overcome. In one single day and with his life on the line, instead of in the course of Rose's entire childhood and adolescence, but that's exactly why he hated being a protagonist of a horror game, lol.

Anyway, yeah. All in all, I don't think Resident Evil is a franchise where we should expect to sit down afterwards and ponder whether we were right to shoot the zombies that were trying to kill us. Again, I'm not the right person to ask this, since I don't know anything about other RE games, but that's the conclusion I'm making in a meta-thinking way.

#Resident Evil #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 8 #Ethan Winters #Mother Miranda #re meta #anonymous #ask and ye shall receive

18 notes · View notes

boys-wonder · 3 years ago

Text

make me feel something

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dominant Jason Todd, Top Jason Todd, Submissive Tim Drake, Bottom Tim Drake, D/s undertones, Anal Fingering, Oral Fixation, Frotting, Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I think?, Biting

Desc: "Everything is just so.. empty. I can't feel anything anymore, Jay, not since.." he trails off, but resists the urge to look away. Jason's eyes are dark and unreadable, boring into his and he couldn't look away if he tried. But he doesn't want to, he wants, no, needs Jason to know. Jason doesn't flinch at the mention of his death, just keeps staring expectantly. Tim looks up at him from under those thick lashes, parting his mouth further to let Jason map his tongue with a gloved finger. It's intimate and erotic and controlling in a way that Tim knows he needs, he knows that only Jason can give him this. "Make me feel something, Jay."

Word Count: 4138

Ao3 Link: Here

- - -

The cold night air whips around him, the chill cutting into his skin with the sharpness of a knife, tousling his hair forcefully as he drives. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. By all points, Tim should be buzzing with anxiety right now. He hasn't seen Jason since… that night. He grits his teeth at the memory and revs the engine, hoping to leave the morbid thoughts on the empty highway behind him. Of course, it doesn't work; Tim still has nightmares about it. He's never spoken about that night to anyone. In fact, he's actually not sure that the others even know he was there. But everyone knows how Tim feels about Jason.

It was after an unfortunate series of long, difficult missions that Tim finally decided to see Jason for the first time since the newly-declared outlaw made his way back to Gotham after his resurrection. Tim had been waiting, hoping that Jason would come see him, or even Bruce. Just some sort of arrival, anything to let them know he's alive. But it's still been nearly a year - 10 months and two weeks, not that Tim's counting - and this week has been so fucking hard.

So he changes into civvies, not even bothering to wash off the grime and blood from the mission he just got back from, and tells Alfred he's going out. The butler nods knowingly, but the sympathy in his eyes makes Tim's face burn hot with - anger? shame? He's not sure. But he avoids Alfred's gaze, dipping past him to get his bike from the garage and make his way into Gotham.

Jason met Tim many years ago, when he was still working under Bruce's tutelage as Robin. The two had connected instantly; Tim's inappropriate fascination (or maybe a more fitting word would be devotion) with Jason (and Dick, and Bruce) which manifested in a bit of stalking, along with Jason's need to have something stable in his life. To have something normal and just his to ground him, and having someone look at him like that- look at him, not Dick, not Bruce, but him. They collided with explosive force, orbiting one another like twin stars, pulling each other along by sheer force of gravity.

Until Jay’s star blinked out.

Tim takes a hand off the handlebar and hits himself in the thigh a few times. The dull ache brought him back to focus on reality and clearing out the unpleasant memories.

It takes no time at all to break into Jay's flat - seriously, was he even trying? - and he flips the lights on, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. There's really no need to be stealthy; he wants Jay to know he's here.

He pads into the living room, looking around. Tim was expecting… he's not sure, maybe more like his safehouse when he was on the streets? But no, Jay had got himself a pretty decent place. There's a simple brown sofa, resting against the wall, and on either side are expensive looking speakers, which Tim now sees are plugged into an old record player. Tim smiles faintly; it's good to see something about Jason was still the same.

Tim sets the needle down on the record with familiar ease, relaxing visibly as the record begins to play.

With the music thrumming through him, he lets himself explore more of Jason's apartment, though he's not quite brave enough to go into the bedroom. He admires the few pieces of artwork that are strewn around the place, their presence in Jay's life bringing him a comfort he didn't realize he needed.

The lock in the door clicks, and it swings open slowly. Tim doesn't turn around, just rubs the petals of a baby succulent that he found sitting on the windowsill. His heart should be pounding in his chest, but it's not. He feels a complete calm wash over him. He feels Jason's eyes on him, but he's not in any hurry to break the silence. Jay waited almost a year to say anything to any of them. Tim may be in love, but he's also stubborn. He's not going to give Jason an easy out.

Jason takes his time to acknowledge Tim - that is to say he doesn't - he just walks past him to pull a bottle out of the liquor cabinet - which he keeps well stocked, Tim notes - and pours himself a glass. Tim makes a soft noise of surprise when he sees Jay set out a second glass, and pours a fifth of whiskey into that as well. Tim thinks maybe he imagines the way Jason's fingers tighten around the glass before picking it up, but it makes his pulse kick up anyway.

Now it's Jason's turn to be observed. Tim doesn't bother hiding the way he looks over every inch of the man in front of him, from the scuffed combat boots to the knife holstered at his hip to the way his jacket is bunched up around his elbows, exposing well built forearms. They're riddled with scars, Tim notices, and he looks each one over carefully, trying to map each one like pages in a book he hasn't been able to read in decades.

If Jason is bothered by Tim's discerning stare, he doesn't say anything, but then considering how they met… it's not something Tim expects Jason is ever going to complain about. He roves his eyes over those broad shoulders, making note of how they got even broader in their time apart, how it makes his jacket cling to him in ways it didn't before.

Tim's eyes lift to the back of Jay's neck now, and if he wants to let himself think he sees Jay stand up a little straighter, then well, he thinks he's entitled to that. The nape of his neck is scarred too, and his hair is buzzed short at the bottom, fading into a shaggy mop of black hair that manages somehow to also look so inviting it's unfair.

Jason keeps his back to Tim as he downs his shot of whiskey, and god, Tim can't help the scramble of heat that unfurls in his gut when he hears Jay rumble out a low, satisfied noise that seemed to charge the very air around them. Tim's been hard since the older man walked in the room, if he's being honest, and he has a suspicion it's the same for Jason.

Jay grabs the second glass, agile, scarred fingers rubbing around the lip of it like a caress and, oh - he's turning around and before Tim even knows it, their eyes are locked. Jason's eyes are dark, appraising him and Tim just can't breathe, god - there's a tinge of bright green around the pupils, that wasn't there before. But even further than that, Tim sees the heat in them, and it has him snatching the glass out of Jason's hand and tossing it back, the warmth chasing down his throat all the way to his core, where it ignites the already smoldering embers there, creating a quickly spreading wildfire.

Tim swallows, pinned in place with the intensity of Jason's gaze, and then those dark eyes dip down and back up, a smirk playing on the outlaw's lips as he clocks the motion. The younger man almost forgets himself, opening his mouth to speak, but he shuts it and just stares. He's drinking in every inch of Jason's face, the small lump on his nose from where it was recently broken in a fight, the J that still looks fresh as the day it was given to him, some scars across his cheeks and another that cut into the corner of his mouth. Years of pent up devotion, of adoration, of fierce and unyielding love covered Tim's entire expression, his entire being, and for a minute, Tim could convince himself that everything was perfectly normal, like Jay had never left.

But then something shifts, the tension between them driving up again as Jason takes a single gloved finger and uses it to tilt Tim's chin up. His eyes are still dark, the heat still there, but tenderness too and Tim inhales sharply, allowing himself to be moved. Jay looks at him intently for several long moments, and Tim's heart is thudding in his chest.

"You look tired, Timmy," Jason says, his voice soft and low and just a little bit sensual, and that has Tim's stomach twisting in knots.

"I am tired, Jay," Tim replies, leaning his cheek ever so slightly into Jason's grip, and his breath catches again when the finger on his chin is replaced with a hand framing his jaw, thumb brushing against his lower lip. It's intimate and tender in a way that Tim isn't sure Jason had learned how to be, before, and it makes his cheeks warm despite himself.

"What are you doing here, Tim?"

If anyone else had asked him that, in this situation, he'd punch them. But he knows Jay. He's asking what happened to bring him here tonight, when he's been back for 10 months and their paths haven't crossed yet.

He parts his lips to speak, and Jason brushes the pad of his gloved thumb over the tip of Tim's tongue, and well, sue him if he makes a soft, needy noise at that.

"Everything is just so.. empty. I can't feel anything anymore, Jay, not since.." he trails off, but resists the urge to look away. Jason's eyes are dark and unreadable, boring into his and he couldn't look away if he tried. But he doesn't want to, he wants, no, needs Jason to know. Jason doesn't flinch at the mention of his death, just keeps staring expectantly. Tim looks up at him from under those thick lashes, parting his mouth further to let Jason map his tongue with a gloved finger. It's intimate and erotic and controlling in a way that Tim knows he needs, he knows that only Jason can give him this. "Make me feel something, Jay."

"I'm not the same as I was before, Tim," Jason says, still rubbing his thumb over Tim's tongue. If Tim didn't know Jason the way he does, he would have taken that as a rejection, but he can tell Jason is mulling it over.

"I know, Jay. Neither am I."

Jason grips Tim's chin firmly at that, searching intensely for something in Tim's eyes. Tim isn't sure what, but after several long seconds, he nods. Tim's heart leaps into his throat, but before he has time to even think, Jay's fingers are in his mouth, mapping his tongue, his teeth, and god, Tim just groans.

Jason makes an appreciative noise and presses further, pressing his fingers down into Tim's throat, and the younger man's cock throbs as he gags around them. There's something unspeakably intimate about sucking Jason's fingers through the gloves, Tim thinks as he wraps his lips around leather-clad fingers, eyes never wavering from Jason's dark gaze. He can taste the sweat and dirt and just a little bit of blood and the thrill of it rushes through him with force, causing him to shudder as Jason's fingers brush against the back of his throat and his cock throbs painfully, leaking steadily into his underwear.

"Good boy," Jason purrs, and it's everything Tim has been waiting to hear again since that night, and somehow Jason knows and god, Tim's head is just spinning as Jason presses a third finger into his mouth alongside the other two, stretching his throat in a way that would be uncomfortable if Tim didn't need it so fucking bad.

A whine rattles out of Tim's chest as Jason grips him by the throat, fingers still stuffed in his mouth, and pulls him down with him to settle on the sofa, with Tim perched in his lap like a prize.

They don't talk for long minutes that seem to drag into hours, Jason's fingers fucking slowly into Tim's mouth while he uses his free hand to rock their hips together slowly.

"That's right, babybird, just let me take care of you," Jason murmurs into Tim's ear, and he isn't sure how the older man can make something like that sound dangerous, but fuck, he does, and Tim whines again, hips jerking up roughly against Jason's. It earns him a quiet groan, and his whole body feels like it's on fire just from that, but then - oh, god - Jason's fingers aren't in his mouth anymore, they're pressing against his entrance and - oh shit - he's not even sure how Jay got his hand into his pants, but he doesn't bother contemplating because then Jay slides two fingers in and holy fuck.

It burns, fuck, but it's exactly what Tim needs and he sags into Jason, whining in his ear while those fingers press slowly deeper, stretching him open and oh my god it's good. Jason's fingers are so fucking deep inside him, thrusting slowly but still not gently, and the friction and the burn is making Tim more than a little incoherent.

Jason mouths at his neck, and Tim keens, baring his throat in a gesture of submission that comes so naturally it would be startling if it wasn't Jay. He's rewarded with a deep groan pulled from somewhere deep in Jason's chest, and then Tim is crying out sharply, jerking his hips back into the older man's fingers as his teeth sink into Tim's slender neck.

"Oh god, Jay," Tim whines, clenching around the fingers inside him as Jason's teeth meet briefly between the flesh in his mouth, and Tim knows he hasn't broken the skin but god he needs him to, he needs it. Almost like Jay can sense his thoughts, he growls around the mouthful of Tim's neck and bites down harder, teeth penetrating skin as he fucks his fingers into the younger boy at a faster, rougher pace that has Tim screaming.

"Fuck, baby," Jason groans, dragging his tongue around the circumference of the bite, and oh god it aches in exactly the right way, and the combination of the filthiness of the action with the endearment on Jay's lips, the one Tim never thought he would be able to hear again, sends him hurtling over the edge so alarmingly fast he forgets how to breathe.

His spine goes taut, he's arched into Jason like a bow and his thighs are quivering so badly that Jay puts a hand on one to steady him as he spills into his pants, screaming Jason's name. Jason coaxes him through that orgasm and right into another one, fingers pressing hard and fast into that spot deep inside him that makes every nerve in his body light up like a forest fire. This time Tim comes so hard he can't even scream, he just gasps wetly into Jason's chest as he digs his fingers into the supple leather of the older man's jacket and yanks, just trying to steady himself.

Tim lays like that on Jason's chest for a long time, muscles trembling as Jay rubs his back with the most gentleness he's shown Tim that night. Jay presses soft kisses into Tim's hair, and the younger man nuzzles back into the affection.

When he finally feels capable of speech, he pulls back and gives Jay his signature troublemaker smirk and says, "What, is that all?"

Jason laughs and shakes his head, carefully pulling his fingers free and he strips his gloves before picking Tim up, carrying him bridal-style into the bedroom.

"Not by a long shot, princess, don't you worry."

Tim could literally care less about checking out Jay's bedroom, because the second he's placed on the bed Jason is on him, pinning his delicate little wrists over his head with one hand while he slots himself between Tim's legs and grinds. It's absolutely filthy, and even though he just came, Tim can feel himself getting hard again. His head falls back onto the mattress and he whines, trying to tug his arms free to wrap them around Jay's neck before he realizes, and - oh - white hot need has him arching off the bed and pressing into Jason's body.

"Fuck, baby, look at you," Jason breathes, voice rough and Tim's eyes flutter open to meet his gaze, his mouth falling open in a soft 'o' as he sees that piercing blue and green have been completely obliterated by black lust. "You look so fucking beautiful like this, Timmy."

Tim whines again and Jason's there, licking into his mouth and it's everything he needs and not nearly enough all at once, and god somehow Jason knows that too because his hand is around Tim's throat, squeezing as he sucks on the younger man's tongue. It's their first kiss since before, and it's fucking filthy and it's fucking perfect.

Jason's hips are grinding roughly into Tim's and it almost hurts because he's oversensitive from coming but he thinks he might actually die if Jason stops. Just then, Jason does stop, and Tim lets out a pitiful keen.

"Hey hey, patience babybird, I gotta get you undressed," Jason laughs as he climbs to his knees, pulling Tim roughly down the bed with him with a hand on each ankle. The sudden movement makes Tim yelp in surprise, and he would have laughed if Jason hadn't already removed his sweatpants and wasn't already digging his teeth into Tim's ankle.

"Oh, fuck, Jay," Tim pants out, looking up with heavy-lidded eyes as Jason sucks a dark bruise onto the inner divot of his ankle. "Jay please, fuck, I need you inside me right now."

Jason swears, movements stilling for just a heartbeat before he reaches down and pulls Tim's boxers off. There's no time for Tim to get embarrassed about being so exposed, not that he's ever really been shy about nudity, because Jason is slinging Tim's legs over his shoulders and pushing in - when did he even get his dick out of his pants? - and Tim loses the ability to breathe.

The last time they did this, they were both still awkward teenagers, not quite fitting into their bodies, still having growing to do. Now, Jason's cock is so thick as it presses its way inside him that tears start to form at the corners of Tim's eyes.

"Holy shit, baby," Jason grunts, kissing Tim's other ankle and Tim whines in response, not able to think about anything else except for the way he can feel Jason's cock stretching him out with each centimeter as it buries itself inside him. By the time Jay is fully seated, they're both trembling, and Jay's forehead is wrinkled with effort - presumably from holding back.

"Jay," Tim whines, rolling his hips up, and oh fuck it burns so much that he chokes out a gasp.

"Timmy, baby," Jason says in response, and starts moving.

"Oh," Tim says, his mouth falling open, and Jason brushes his thumb across the younger man's lower lip.

"Yeah, princess, just like that, open up for me baby," Jay groans, thrusting his hips a little harder and Tim whines so loudly that Jason wraps a hand around his throat. "Shh, baby, it's okay. Just let me take care of you like you need."

Jason sets a rough but slow rhythm, leaving open mouthed kisses across Tim's ankles as he fucks Tim open with almost brutal precision. Each thrust hits the same spot, going further and deeper, and it's driving Tim crazy in all the right ways. Every time Jason slams into him, he screams, the sound muffled by the hand wrapped around his throat and squeezing. Tim's head is fuzzy, and he feels like he's both less and more aware of the rough stretch of Jason's cock inside him around the heavy press of Jason's fingers pinching his arteries.

Tim is staring up slack-jawed at Jason, just watching him in awe. He takes the time now to memorize every expression, every sound, because now he knows that any time might be the last time, and he doesn't know what this means for them but he knows that Jason wouldn't do this without meaning it, not with him.

Jason's eyes flick up to his from where they were fixated on his cock disappearing inside of Tim, and he smirks at him. Tim is just about to try and slap his arm when Jason changes the angle again and holy shit -

"Oh yeah, babybird? Right there?"

Tim makes a strangled noise that's somewhere between a sob and a scream as Jason starts drilling into him, right into that spot over and over and he's not sure when he started crying but the tears won't stop streaming down his face and he really can't find it in him to care because he needs it, he needs Jason to see him bare like this, to know all of the pain and hurt and loss and to see how much he still needs him.

Jason is between his thighs pounding into him like he's never needed to do anything else more in his life, and still it's not enough. He's still got his fucking mask on - not the red one, no - he's still keeping a part of himself secret from Tim.

"Jason," Tim croaks out, and those dark eyes are boring into his again and it's closer, but not enough, not nearly enough. "Let me see you," he says, twining their fingers together. "Please."

Jason freezes for a moment, realizing he's been caught, and Tim can see the internal struggle play over his face like a teleprompter. He licks his lips and waits, and then he sees it. The shift is almost imperceptible at first but then it's more and more clear as Jason lets the mask fall away, stops pretending.

He can see now, why Jason was keeping the mask up. And god, he loves him. He sees into the heart of Jason now, and it's ugly and terrifying and it's the most beautiful thing Tim's ever seen, and he chokes out a pleading, "Jason," needing everything Jay had been holding back.

"Tim," Jay groans, only it's almost a growl, and he puts his full weight on Tim's body and starts rutting into him like it's the last time he's ever going to get to do this, - or maybe it's the first - and his thrusts are so rough that they occasionally scoot Tim up the bed a couple of inches, but neither of them care. Tim is clinging to him, crying and rambling and Jason has his face buried in Tim's neck, growling and grunting and murmuring sweet nothings right in between angry ramblings, and finally - oh god - it's finally exactly what Tim needed, what they both needed all along and Tim is coming, his toes curling as his heels dig into the bed.

He tightens around Jason's cock and comes between them, making Jason's shirt sticky but who fucking cares, who cares because Jason is drilling into him and oh, my god, he's coming inside. Jason groans low and deep, riding out the orgasm as he humps between Tim's legs and Tim just whines and stutters out his name over and over, so high on Jason that his eyes are glassy, his whole world narrowed to this, to him.

Jason finally slows to a stop and buries his face in Tim's neck, pressing soft open mouthed kisses there that Tim would try to return if he could move.

"I'm sorry," Jason says, his voice quiet with grief and regret, and Tim knows he's not talking about what just happened, but about that night. He kisses the shell of Tim's ear and whispers, "I'm sorry," and this one Tim knows is for ten months and two weeks. But he doesn't need an apology. He knows now, he understands why Jason stayed away so long.

"I'll never stop loving you, no matter how ugly or twisted you get. You're still Jason. You're my Jason."

Tim feels Jason relax at that, sagging into him with such fierce relief that tears prick the corners of his eyes again.

"Love you so much, Timmy," Jason mumbles into Tim's hair, and rolls them onto their sides, half-heartedly covering them with a bedsheet before wrapping an arm - when did his arms get so big? - around Tim's middle, pulling the younger man firmly into his chest. "So much," he mumbles, and Tim laughs quietly as he realizes that Jason is falling asleep around him. But, he's not much better off; between the mission just hours before, the tension between them, and the emotional catharsis of.. well, everything that just happened, his eyes were getting too heavy to keep open.

He nuzzles into Jason's arm and lets himself be dragged into sleep, knowing that finally, finally he wouldn't have to wake up without Jason again.

- - -

Thanks so much for reading! If you liked this work, please reblog, and if you’re feeling generous, please go to ao3 and leave a comment, or drop one off in my inbox here!

#jaytim #nsft #dc fanfic #boys-wonder

23 notes · View notes

snowdice · 3 years ago

Text

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 66]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

It’s editing time for me because I have not edited in way too long. I am so behind on the Study Fic and this one. Oof. Also I should do some blog organization maybe.

Chapter 30

After lunch, Patton and Logan took Virgil out to the garden to walk around. They let Virgil lead them around wherever he wanted to go in the garden. A bunch more flowers had died since the last time they’d been out here, and Patton felt sad despite having never felt very sad about that sort of thing before. But, Virgil seemed to really like the flower he’d found last time, so Patton thought he was probably sad on the boy’s behalf.

Of course, Patton thought, perking up, eventually it would be spring, and Virgil could get to not only see some flowers but all of the flowers as they grew. Patton couldn’t wait to see him amongst the garden then.

Virgil took them wandering through the orchard for a while, but most of the trees had been stripped of their fruits and the leaves were beginning to fall off some. They ended up in the vegetable garden after a bit, and Virgil finally seemed to decide on a direction instead of just ambling about.

A few seconds after Patton noticed Virgil seemingly decide on a destination, Patton noticed Mr. Deknis kneeling on the ground a few feet away. Had… had Virgil been looking for him? Patton wondered. That was adorable.

Mr. Deknis looked up as they approached and smiled at them.

“Hello, Mr. Deknis,” Patton said as they came closer.

“Hello you three,” Mr. Deknis said. “Getting into trouble?”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head.

Mr. Deknis gave him a flash of a smile. “I know, I’m joking,” he said. “Especially since there isn’t much left in my gardens for certain princes to destroy with experiments.”

“Oh, okay,” Virgil said. He tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting the last of the acorn squash out,” Mr. Deknis replied. “It’s the last crop to get finished. Good thing too, it’s supposed to start snowing soon.”

Virgil looked down curiously at the dark green squash.

“Would you like to help me pick a couple?” Mr. Deknis asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, sounding interested. Mr. Deknis patted the ground beside him, and Virgil knelt down to watch him.

“They’re not too difficult to harvest,” he said. “You just cut the fruit off the stem. You want to leave about a hand’s width of the stem left over which will help preserve moisture. The earlier harvests I left in the field to cure in the sun for a couple weeks, but the frost’ll ruin these, so we’ll take them inside the green house and let them sit in the sun for a bit there. We also want to keep the leaves. You’ll probably be eating those for dinner tonight since they have to be cooked up within about 24 hours after they’re picked. Patton’s mom makes a good side dish with them and she’ll be making some curry tomorrow, probably. Maybe some stew if there are some left over. Put the squash in this wheelbarrow and the leaves into this pile, okay?” Virgil nodded and Mr. Deknis handed him the extra pair of gloves and shears he carried with him in case one set broke. “These might be a bit big on you, but they should work for now.”

Mr. Deknis looked up at Patton and Logan. “Would the two of you like to help?” he asked. “I can get some more equipment.”

“I can help out if you want, but you don’t need to stop and get more equipment just for me,” Patton said.

“The same for me,” Logan said.

“Well, if you’d like to help still, you can sort the leave. Give your mother a head start.”

“Sure,” Patton said. He and Logan went to do that while Mr. Deknis and Virgil worked on cutting the squashes from the vine.

“What do you do during the winter?” Virgil asked curiously. “If this is your last crop?”

“Well, at the beginning, I mostly will be working on making sure things are stored correctly along with some of the kitchen staff. There’s some drying to do and some canning. After that’s done, I’ll spend some time organizing and planning. Then, before the spring comes, I’ll start preparing seedlings in the green house.”

“Seedlings?” he asked.

“I let seeds start to grow in the greenhouse that I replant once it gets warm enough.”

“Why don’t you just plant them where they’re going?”

“I do for some,” he said, “but giving some a head start is good for them.”

Patton watched as Virgil continued to ask questions about gardening while working on harvesting the squash. Mr. Deknis continued to answer them in a calm, soft tone that Patton didn’t think he’d ever heard from the often gruff man before.

Patton wasn’t surprised when, after finishing getting most of the squash off of the vine, Mr. Deknis asked if Virgil wanted to help him with canning some pears in a couple of days. Virgil immediately looked over at Logan and Patton as though asking permission.

“Say yes if you would like to Virgil,” Logan said.

“Yes,” Virgil said as soon as he was given permission. Mr. Deknis smiled at him softly and started loading the last of the squash into the wheelbarrow. Patton offered to run the squash leaves to the kitchen while Logan and Virgil helped Mr. Deknis take the actual squash to the green house.

He dropped the leaves off to a kitchen worker since Mama was busy and headed back out to the garden. By the time he returned, Logan was already back from the green house and sitting by one of the more decorative trees near the castle.

“He’s exploring,” Logan said, nodding at a large patch of bushes.

Patton chuckled. “I see.” He sat next to Logan. Every so often he’d hear the bushes rustle, but he couldn’t tell if it was actually Virgil or an animal.

“He’s adorable,” Patton commented, keeping an ear out.

Logan hummed.

“I’m glad we kept him.”

“He isn’t a pet, Patton.”

Patton rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m still glad. I’m glad he’s making friends with Mr. Deknis. Once he knows how to read better, we should get him a book about gardening. He seems interested.”

Logan nodded. “Having a hobby would be good for him. Clearly he has a fascination with the garden.” He nodded to the blur of dark hair that could be seen through the bushes. It seemed Virgil had stopped his exploration and was now laying down in the bushes a few feet away.

“I’m going to go see what he’s doing,” Patton said. “I’ll be right back.”

Logan nodded and Patton got to his feet. The bushes were part of a small maze that was filled with flowers during the spring and summer months but were mostly just green and brown bushes for now. Despite the fact that Patton had been able to see him only a few feet away, it took him a while to wind through the path to where he was. When he finally turned the last corner and he came into view, Patton gasped softly.

“Ghost kitty!” he said, making sure to make his voice as quiet as possible.

Despite how soft he made his voice, two pairs of eyes shot over to him. The completely black kitten was perched on Virgil’s lap like she belonged there. Ghost Kitty hissed slightly, but Virgil reached forward to pet her head gently.

“This is Ghost Kitty?” Virgil asked. “I thought you said she was hard to pet.”

“She is,” Patton said. He lowered himself onto the ground from a few feet away from them. “How did you get her to come to you?”

Virgil glanced down at the cat and shrugged, scratching one of her ears. “She just came over to me and let me pet her.”

“Wow,” Patton said softly. He looked at the cat. “Could I pet you sweetie?” he asked, holding out a hand in her direction. She hissed again.

Virgil frowned down at her. “It’s Patton,” he said as though he expected her to understand his words and the exasperation in his tone.

He pet the cat’s head to soothe her and then reached over to grab Patton’s hand. He pulled and Patton carefully leaned a bit closer until his hand was within sniffing distance. Ghost Kitty sniffed his fingers contemplatively and then bumped her head against it. He barely restrained a squeal, knowing that probably wouldn’t be taken well.

He carefully turned his hand over so he could stroke the top of her head. He gently scratched her ear, not daring to go for under her chin yet since she didn’t know him well. “Hi,” he said softly. After a moment, she started to purr softly. Virgil reached over and scratched under her chin and she purred louder. “Oh, you’re a good girl,” Patton breathed, letting a hand trail gently down her back once and then again. Patton settled himself carefully into a seating position continuing to pet her. After a few more moments of soft petting, she hesitantly stepped her front paws onto Patton’s thigh, so she was sitting in both of their laps. Patton laughed softly. “Hi sweetie.” He glanced over at Virgil who had a wide smile on his face as he pet the cat. This. This was adorable. They continued to pet the cat for a very long time.

Chapter 31

Logan waited for a while after Patton left to check on Virgil, but the two never resurfaced. It was odd, Patton would usually remember to come back and get Logan or at least tell them where they were. With a sigh, Logan climbed to his feet to go find them. It took him a while to weave his way through the maze of bushes to them especially because they were suspiciously quiet (Well, suspicious for Patton. Virgil was often unnervingly quiet when alone.) Luckily, he knew the bushes enough after all of these years not to get lost and managed to find the two after a few minutes.

“Ah,” he said, immediately identifying the reason for Patton disappearing.

“Logan!” Patton said, his voice excited, but also quieter than normal. “We found a kitty!”

“I can see that,” Logan responded, taking a step closer. The cat hissed at him in response. The hissing was so intense and wild that he’d suspect the thing was feral if it wasn’t happily on Virgil’s lap having had it’s head in Patton’s lap before Logan had approached.

“No,” Virgil told the animal as though it could understand words. “That’s Logan. Be nice.”

The cat still glared at him and swished it’s tail back and forth threateningly. Virgil pet the top of it’s head and it broke eye contact with Logan to purr.

Patton seemed delighted by the purring, reaching to stroke under the thing’s chin carefully. “We should give her a name!” Patton said.

Virgil frowned. “I thought her name was Ghost Kitty.”

“That is ‘Ghost Kitty’?” Logan asked skeptically. From what Patton had said about that cat, it was terrified of people and no one could ever get near it, even him. Now it was in Virgil’s lap?

“But that was a temporary name,” Patton said, “for before we officially met her. Now we have to give her a real name.”

“Do not give it a name,” Logan said. “You will get attached.”

“How do you name a cat?” Virgil asked.

“Do not name it,” Logan said.

“You give them names based on their personalities, how they look, or even just because it’s a cute name,” Patton explained. “Like, remember Mittens? I named her Mittens because she has white fur and black paws!”

Virgil looked at the cat. “She’s completely black,” he said.

Patton hummed. “So, we could give her a name based on that like Midnight or Shadow.”

“Those are fine,” Virgil said.

“No, no,” Patton said. “I’m just giving you examples. You get to name her yourself.”

“This is a bad idea,” Logan said.

“Just throw out some names,” Patton said. “Anything you can think of.”

“Uh,” Virgil said. “Knife.”

“…Just Knife?” Patton asked.

“Nightmare.” Virgil seemed to think about it. “No, that’s mean.”

“How about things you like?” Patton suggested.

“Alfredo?”

Oh no, Logan thought, he was worse than Patton at cat naming.

“Good start,” Patton said. “Logan, do you have any suggestions.”

“Cat,” Logan said.

“Real suggestions,” Patton scolded.

Logan sighed and thought for a moment. “Aphrodite.”

“Catphrodite!”

Logan glared at him. “Helena.”

“Helenpaw.”

“Claudia.”

“Clawdia.”

“Persephone.”

Patton smiled at him, cheerfully.

“…Damnit!”

Patton turned to Virgil again. “Like that! They don’t even have to be serious. Like, uh, you could name her Madam Fluffywuffykins the Great!”

“Do not name her that,” Logan said, scrunching up his nose.

Logan sat on the ground, the cat eyeing him, but no longer hissing. Logan gently guided them towards more sensible names despite Patton trying his hardest to drag them into stupidity.

Virgil still didn’t quite get it. He mostly tried to name it after foodstuff, and often not even appropriate foodstuff such as “Corn” and “Acorn Squash” and “Sandwich” and occasionally would drop in semi violent ones such as “Razor,” “Nightshade” and “Void.” Patton suggested names like “Fluffers,” “Bobette” and “Darling” as well as some that were puns. Logan tried to direct them towards more sensible ones like “Salem” and even went so low as to suggest the contrary “Snowball.”

It quickly seemed to become less about actually naming the cat and more of a game. Patton had taught Virgil about playing with cats and had even gotten out a ball of yarn he cared around for his crafts. Both Virgil and the cat seemed to find endless entertainment with that. Logan hoped Patton had another ball of yarn that color because, he was never going to get that ball back.

The barrage of names fizzled out into naming things around them like “Leaf” and “Bush” until they stopped suggesting names altogether. Patton and Logan sat back and watched Virgil play with the cat.

Logan watched as they stopped playing suddenly and Virgil and the cat squinted at each other. “Marisol,” Virgil said, pulling the name out of nowhere. “That’s her name.” He said it with a certainty that was surprising considering how he’d treated the naming process with confusion and caution earlier. If Logan did not know better, his tone of voice would indicate that the cat, or Marisol he guessed, had gotten bored of them coming up with stupid names and decided to tell him her actual name herself.

The cat made a sound and batted at Virgil’s face without claws to grab back his attention.

He turned back to it and bopped its face with a finger in kind. It attacked his finger, but in a clearly playful matter as it still did not extend it’s claws and its teeth did not draw blood.

“That’s a great name, Virgil,” Patton said.

“Much more pleasant than any that Patton suggested all afternoon,” Logan said. He received an elbow to the side for his quip.

“A pretty name for a pretty kitty,” Patton said, scooting over to where Virgil was sat and attempting to pet Marisol’s head. Marisol, however, was too keyed up and batted at the hand.

“I love you too!” Patton said.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he had long since resigned himself to watching the two of them play with and coo over the cat for the rest of the day.

Eventually, though, it started to get darker. Even after Logan pointed this out, it still took over an hour for them to relent and leave the bush maze to go to the door. The problem was of course, that the cat had managed to grow very attached to Virgil in the last few hours and she followed them all the way to the door with manipulatively heart breaking mews.

“You’ve got to stay out here,” Virgil said, when they got to the castle door. He pet her ear softly and she shoved her head into his hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t have anywhere to put you.” He sounded horribly sad about that fact and Logan felt himself shift uncomfortably. “I basically live in a closet and Logan doesn’t like cats in his room anyway.”

Logan immediately felt unreasonably guilty, probably more so because Logan did not think Virgil was trying to make him feel guilty. “…Bring the dammed thing inside.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “What?”

“It will get cold soon anyway,” Logan said.

He frowned at Logan from where he was crouched. “But you don’t like fur in your room…”

“I will have to find a potion that works,” he said with a sigh, “and we’ll have to say it’s mine to the guards and Father since it will be staying in my room, but it is yours in every other way. That means you are going to feed it, clean it, and clean up after it.”

Virgil nodded immediately and swooped Marisol up in his arms. The cat went without complaint. “Thank you!” he said. “I love her.”

“I know you do,” Logan said, already regretting it already. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to even consider recanting the offer considering how happy Virgil seemed to be. They had a cat now, he guessed.

Chapter 32

“What are you doing?” Helen asked a few minutes after her son walked into the kitchen and started looking around as though he were trying to find something. It was a few hours into the afternoon, and she and a few workers were already prepping for dinner.

“Uh,” Patton said. “Have you seen Virgil?”

“No,” Helen said. “Why.”

“Er… Logan and I sorta, lost him,” Patton said. He was wringing his hands anxiously. Helen put down the knife in her hand.

“What do you mean you lost him?” she asked.

“Well, see, we were trying to teach him how to play hide and seek, um, but then we didn’t think to tell him that he eventually had to come out if we didn’t find him, and now we haven’t seen him since breakfast.”

“He didn’t know what tag is?” she asked. That was just one more thing to add to the list of why Helen worried about Virgil and where he came from. Every morsel of information she’d managed to wring from Patton despite his evasions made her lists of concerns grow larger, even little things like him not knowing about simple childhood games. Actually, thinking of concerning things having to do with Virgil. “Wait, so he hasn’t eaten lunch.”

“Um, we don’t know that,” Patton’s mouth said while his eyes said ‘no.’

“He needs to be on a consistent diet, especially when he’s still taking the malnutrition potion,” she scolded.

“I know, Mama, I know,” Patton said. “I’m trying to find him. I’d kinda hoped he’d gotten hungry and snuck down here. He probably wouldn’t want to risk being caught stealing food though.”

Helen grimaced. Yet another concerning thing.

“Wait! I have an idea, I’ll be right back.” Patton turned and ran out of the room. Helen frowned at the space he’d been and finished chopping the carrot on the cutting board in front of her. If it had been any other person in the castle missing, Helen wouldn’t have worried, but she had literally never seen Virgil without Patton and/or Logan by his side. Even when he’d gone to help Jeff can some fruit, Logan had reportedly hung around to read a book.

Considering that Logan had never exactly been clingy even with Patton, she imagined that either Virgil asked, or Logan thought he should stay with him for his comfort. So, she was surprised that he was apparently hidden away somewhere in the castle where neither of the other kids could find him.

Still thinking about this, she walked over to the entrance to the cellar below the kitchen where they stored most of the vegetables, planning to grab some more carrots. She was confused for a moment when she heard movement from deeper in the pantry. She reached over and touched the panel near the door that controlled the magic lights.

The newly illuminated figure startled as the lights came on, whipping around to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Virgil?” she asked.

“Sorry,” he said immediately, taking a step back.

“It’s fine,” she said immediately, “but what are you doing here?”

He considered her for a long moment, but apparently, she passed some sort of mental test, because he relaxed, at least as much as he’d ever relaxed in her presence. “Where are we?” he asked.

Her brow knit together. “The cellar under the kitchen,” she said, “You don’t know that?”

He shook his head.

“The only entrance is from the kitchen.” Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him go through the kitchen at any point.

“No, it’s not,” Virgil said. “There’s a tunnel.”

“A-a tunnel?” she asked. Actually, taking a closer look at him, he seemed a bit grimy. He had dust all over his front and dirt on his nose. She thought he might even have a couple of cobwebs in his hair.

“Yep,” he said.

“Where’s the tunnel?” she asked.

“It’s right over here,” he said. He took a couple of steps and pointed to the ground. There was an open square hole there that clearly had been made a long time ago but which she had never noticed in all of her time working here.

“How did you find this?” she asked.

“We were playing hide and seek,” Virgil explained. “Logan said I could hide anywhere inside the castle. I hid on top of a dresser upstairs in some unused sitting room. There was a hole in the wall above it, so I climbed into it. Then, I crawled a little bit and it let out into a hidden passage in the walls. I wandered around in it until I found another hole in one of the walls. I thought it was a way out, so I squeezed into it, but it took me to a different hallway where I found an old room. There was a different hole in that room that had probably been covered by something because it was in the floor but whatever it was had rotted away. I crawled though it into a tunnel and came out here.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a bit at his explanation. “Well, it sounds like you went on an adventure,” she said, “but Patton and Logan have been trying to find you. You missed lunch.”

He tilted his head at her. “I know. I was supposed to hide.”

“Yes,” she explained, “but you are supposed to come out at some point if they can’t find you for things like food.”

“Oh,” he said.

“They probably should have explained,” she said. “For now, why don’t we get you something to eat? You must be hungry.”

Virgil frowned. “But I missed lunch.”

“You can still eat even though it’s not in normal hours,” she said. “You could even if you had made it to lunch.”

“Really?” he asked, he looked tragically confused by this offer.

“Of course, sweetie,” she said. “In fact, I insist you get something good to eat right now. How about I made you a grilled ham and cheese sandwich? Maybe some cookies too!”

Virgil titled his head. “You are Patton’s mother,” he stated.

Helen laughed softly. “He gets its all from me,” she said. “We should probably go find him and tell him you’re okay. He was worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him,” Virgil said with a frown.

“I know,” Helen said. “It’s okay. He’ll probably laugh when he figures out where you’ve been, and Logan will interrogate you all about the secret passageways.” He seemed happy about the prospect of seeing his friends. “Come on, let’s go upstairs for a bit,” she said.

Chapter 33

Patton’s mom had already made Virgil sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and had handed him a sandwich by the time Patton barreled into the kitchen, Logan coming after him at a more sedate pace.

“Virgil!” he said, sounding surprised and relieved.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom scolded. “No cats in the kitchen.” Patton had brought Marisol in with him and had let her go as soon as he’d seen Virgil. She immediately plodded over to him and hoped onto the table to sniff at his face in greeting.

“But she’s the princess!” Patton argued.

“No,” Logan said.

“Yes, she is!” Patton said.

“The stupid cat is not a princess.”

“Don’t be mean to your little sister, Logan.”

“I regret every life decision that has led me to this point.”

While Logan and Patton were distracted squabbling and Patton’s mom was distracted watching them squabble, Virgil tore off a bit of the ham in his sandwich and offered it to Marisol. Marisol gracefully took it from his grip and ate it.

“So, this is Logan’s new cat I’ve been hearing about?” Patton’s mom asked.

“Indeed,” Logan said, his lips thinned. He and Marisol were mostly amicable when alone with just them and Virgil, but Patton had a habit of cooing over the kitten and needling Logan into being irritated.

“Mmm, yeah,” Patton’s mom said. She glanced over at Virgil right as Marisol basically slammed her face into his chin in a bid to get pets. “Your cat.” She shook her head. “But Princess Kitten or not, I do not want fur in dinner,” she said.

“Sorry,” Patton said, honestly not sounding sorry at all. Virgil was always a bit surprised when the insolent shrug garnered nothing more that a scowl that did not reach Patton’s mom’s eyes. “I thought she could help me find Virgil, but you already found him.” He turned to Virgil. “Where have you been all day?”

“Found a tunnel,” Virgil said. He had to use one hand to hold Marisol back from his sandwich as he took another bite, but then gave her a bite of cheese.

“You found what?” Logan asked.

“There’s a tunnel under the cellar,” Virgil said. “It goes to an old closed up room and also to a set of secret passageways.” It was a bit of a security risk honestly, though clearly no one had used it in years by how dirty it was. He did plan to go back into it and make sure the sprawling tunnels didn’t go to anywhere more dangerous like the royal wing.

“A closed-up room?” Logan said. He could see a bit of curiosity already building in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Where the door used to be seemed like it had been bricked over.”

“Really? Can you show me.”

“Sure,” Virgil answered.

“Ah, perhaps we should be a bit more cautious about climbing through random tunnels we don’t know the stability of,” Patton’s mom said.

Logan’s frown edged on a pout.

“Talk to your father,” she said. “I’m sure he can get someone who understands these things so you can safely investigate.”

“It was safe enough for Virgil,” Logan pointed out.

“No, Logan.”

He sighed but seemed to concede. That was another strange thing about living here. By all rights Logan didn’t have to obey anyone except the king, but he often listened to those around him, not just the adults but Patton as well. It was interesting though it sometimes made the hierarchy hard to figure out. Virgil did sometimes stress out about the hypothetical situation where he got conflicting orders from two people, and he wouldn’t know which one to obey. So far it hadn’t been a problem luckily. They always seemed to work it out amongst themselves in some give and take social interaction that was a bit too complex for him to understand.

Patton walked over to where Virgil was sitting. “I’m glad your safe,” he said. “We should probably put a time limit on hide and seek in the future, so you know when to come out.”

“Did I win?” Virgil asked. He’d honestly forgotten they’d been playing a game until Patton’s mom had asked how he’d found his way into the cellar.

Patton laughed. “I’d say so, yeah,” he replied. He leaned over to kiss Virgil’s forehead, but drew back immediately with a pinched expression. “You are… very dirty,” he said, rubbing his mouth.

Virgil nodded. “Your mom made me sit on a tablecloth,” he said gesturing to the fabric she’d laid over the chair.

Patton snorted out a laugh. “We’ll get you into the bath when you’re done eating and you can tell us all about your little adventure.”

“I would also like to hear about your discoveries,” Logan said. “Though you are not allowed to sit on the bed until you do not have spider webs in your hair.”

Patton’s eyes widened and he jumped away from Virgil, startling both Virgil and Marisol. The latter hopped from the table onto Virgil’s lap. “Spiders?!”

Virgil tilted his head at him in confusion.

“He isn’t a fan of spiders,” Logan informed him, his voice amused at Patton’s reaction.

Apparently deciding that she was no longer startled, but more confused by the noises Patton had just made, Marisol jumped out of Virgil’s lap to investigate, wrapping her way around Patton’s legs. He bent down to pat her back, though he still looked a bit startled.

“Your cat, huh?” Patton’s mom asked Logan once again. Virgil studied her. She had apparently missed Logan mentioning that he allowed Virgil on the bed. Or perhaps Logan was correct in his insistence that it wasn’t actually that big of a deal here. Virgil would rather not test that assumption, however, so was glad that it had been distracted from by Patton’s outburst.

“Creepy, crawly death dealers,” Patton mumbled into Marisol’s fur, having picked her back up. Virgil made a note to not inform Patton of all of the different types of spiders he’d seen skittering around in the castle walls today. Maybe he’d talk about them with Logan once Patton left. He’d probably be interested. Virgil had seen some he’d never seen before! Logan probably could even help him figure out what their names were. “You’ll protect me, won’t you kitty?” Patton asked Marisol.

She made a little ‘burrrr’ sound in response, which Patton seemed to take a confirmation.

“Aw thank you, baby! Such a good baby.”

50234

Virgil popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. Patton’s mom turned away and grabbed a plate stacked with cookies. She handed it to Logan. “Take these, and please get the health hazards out of my kitchen,” she requested.

Logan took them without complaint. “Come on, Virgil,” he said. “Let’s go get you clean.”

“We’re going to need so much soap,” Patton said.

Virgil looked down at himself. “I can go outside and get most of it off if you get me a bucket of water,” he offered.

“Virgil, it’s below freezing,” Logan said as though that had a baring on what he’d just said. Logan sighed. “No. Bathtub.” Virgil shrugged. “Honestly,” Logan said. He turned with the plate of cookies in his hand, clearly expecting to be followed. “You’re not going to catch your death pouring a bucket of water over yourself in the cold when there are literally over a hundred perfectly good bathtubs in this castle. For goodness sakes.” And well, Virgil wasn’t going to complain.

Chapter 34

Patton, to be completely honest, was not all that interested in the room that Virgil had found. Beyond just the fact that it would definitely have creepy crawly death dealers in it, he really did not understand the intrigue. If it had just been him, he probably would have just let a castle worker deal with it, but it was not just him. Logan was ecstatic with the prospect of investigating a secret in the castle. People who didn’t know him well may not believe it considering he spent most of his time with his nose in a book, but he was an adventurer at heart.

Thomas had been easily swayed into finding someone to help tear down part of the wall into the secret tunnel near the room (so no one would have to crawl through the kitchen cellar like Virgil). It had taken a few days, however, and Logan was practically bouncing off the walls waiting. Virgil, despite having already seen the room before, also seemed excited, though if that was because of his own curiosity or because he was just excited that Logan seemed so exited remained to be seen.

“They are silly, aren’t they,” Patton asked Princess Marisol. He was laying on his stomach on Logan’s bed and Princess Marisol had just put her little paw on his nose.

“Yes, I agree,” he said. “Don’t they know that we’re literally going to be 2 feet away from the normal hallway?”

“It is not silly,” Logan defended himself. “Any number of things could go wrong.” He sounded far too excited about the prospect of something going terribly wrong. “The tunnels could cave in and block off the exit or there could be some unknown pathogen in the air.”

Patton did not ruin his fun by mentioning that Logan’s dad had definitely basically baby proofed the tunnels for them ahead of time. Instead, he just said, “Don’t let Virgil hear you say that sort of thing. It will just stress him out.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, waving off Patton’s concerns as he mulled over two different weird green planty things (potion ingredients, Patton assumed) before setting one aside and sticking the other in his bag.

“So silly,” Patton cooed at the cat. Logan let out a huff but did not choose to say anything about it this time.

Speaking of silly, Virgil came back from Logan’s bathroom then, and Patton tried not to giggle. “Is this right?” Virgil asked, sounding and looking confused. Logan, in his overexcitement about adventure had commissioned Virgil an outfit that actually fit. Said outfit, however, very much made it look more like Virgil was going on a safari instead of a two-foot detour from the normal castle hallway.

“Almost,” Logan said, “Here, let me.” Logan started straightening everything out and flattening the collar, reminding Patton of an overbearing parent on picture day. Virgil accepted the fussing without protest. It was adorable. Well, the outfit was ridiculous, but still, adorable. “There,” Logan said. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

It was about time. Patton was sure people were already waiting for them downstairs. Patton got up and patted Princess Marisol on the head. She looked up at them with interest.

“You can stay here, sweetie,” Patton told here. She seemed to consider it and then hopped down from the bed to go rub up against Virgil.

Patton guessed she was coming. It didn’t matter too much since Logan had given her a magical collar that allowed her to open most doors in the castle and everyone knew she was the royal cat now, so if she decided she wanted to come back to the room and nap, she could. (She was very aware of the power she held.)

She pranced happily by Virgil’s side all the way down the steps to the first floor of the castle. She was such a good kitty.

Well, she did hiss angrily at everyone who came too close to them, but still, a very good kitty.

Patton did lean down and pick her up so they could actually talk to the man waiting for them at the large hole in the wall. Logan went to talk to the castle worker while Virgil half hid behind Patton. He was clearly listening very intently to the conversation however, at least more intently than Patton was. Patton was busy shaking his head fondly.

“Yes, yes, Princess,” he said to the cat. “I know we do not trust the strangers, but I promise this stranger is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know?” Virgil asked.

“His name is Chester and I’ve known him since I was 9.”

This seemed to slightly alleviate Virgil’s suspicion, but Princess Marisol still seemed antsy. Patton really needed to start slowly introducing the both of them to more people.

Logan finished talking with Chester after a few moments and it was time to climb through the hole in the wall. He wished he saw in the tunnel whatever Logan with his excited eyes and bounce to his step obviously saw. Or even that was more comfortable in the dark closed in space as Virgil obviously was. As it was, Patton’s nose scrunched up at the thought off all of the spiders that could be living everywhere in the secret tunnel, but he pushed through.

The entrance to the tunnel had been made only a little bit from the room Virgil had mentioned and Chester had led them through it after only a couple of seconds. As Patton had suspected, the room was already lit up and probably cleaned a little bit by the people who had cut into the wall, not that he was complaining.

Virgil was still clinging a bit to Patton’s shirt, though it seemed to be less out of anxiety at this point and more out of a desire to stick close. He was peering around curiously at the lit-up space. He probably hadn’t seen much of it in the dark when he’d been here before.

Yet, his curiosity was nothing compared to how excited Logan seemed to be. Now Patton may have not been interested in the room itself, but he was entertained by how interested Logan was and was happy to encourage that.

“What do you think this place is?” he asked Logan.

Logan hummed contemplatively, eyes looking around. “Well,” he said. “It’s a bedroom clearly, and old. Considering the location it is in in the castle, the size, the decorations, and it’s likely age, I’d imagine it was a bedroom of a royal family member. This used to be the royal wing three royal lines ago.”

“Bearing that in mind, there are a couple of likely possibilities for the origin of the room as well as the reason it was sealed up, but we will need to investigate more in order to come to an actual conclusion.” He had already placed the bag he’d brought on the ground and was going through it, pulling out things that Patton did not recognize. He also got a piece of paper and sat on the floor to start to sketch.

“What are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“I’m sketching the floorplan of the room,” Logan said. “I will then put a grid on it so we can investigate while being sure that we aren’t missing anything.”

Virgil seemed uninterested in this part of the adventure, instead electing to go poking around by himself. Princess Marisol squirmed out of Patton’s arms to go follow him. Patton swore that he only looked away from those two for 5 seconds, but the next thing he knew he heard metal clicking against metal.

“Oh,” Patton said, eyes wide when he saw what Virgil was fiddling with. “Honey, you probably shouldn’t touch…”

The old but fancy looking chest that had been at the end of the remains of the bed creaked open. Virgil sneezed as a cloud of dust puffed out of it. “Huh,” he said studying the contents. “There’s a skull in here.”

“Oh, I don’t like this adventure anymore,” Patton commented.

Logan was on his feet within moments. “Let me see,” he said eagerly.

“What if it’s cursed?” Patton pointed out.

“Then I’ll just break the curse,” Logan waved him off. “Oh, it’s just a horse skull,” Logan said, sounding disappointed. “And also what seemed to be potion ingredients. Though they seem very fresh considering the state of the room.”

“Maybe we should get someone else to…”

Logan already had both arms inside the chest and was pulling things out of it. “This chest must have some sort of stasis effect to it.”

He started pulling things out to look at them before setting them on the floor with no caution. “Well,” he said, “that answers the question of what this room is.”

“It does?” Patton asked.

“Ah, yes, between the horse skull and the potion ingredients, this is obviously the bedroom of Princess Marianne Elicia. She was the third child of King Simon IV and was quite the fan of horses.”

“…So she kept a horse skull in a stasis chest in her bedroom?” Patton asked.

“Of course,” Logan said. “Back when her family was in power, magic was outlawed and had quite the stigma against it, but she ended up learning magic and become quite proficient.”

“It’s debated what exactly happened when her father found out about her activities. Some sources say that she was executed silently by her father, but others say she managed to escape with the head of the stables but not before putting a curse on the country of Prijaznia. That is until she or one of her bloodline sits on the throne, every royal line will end in madness and blood by the 5th seated monarch before an heir is born.”

“Isn’t that something you should be worried about?” Virgil asked.

Logan shrugged. “It’s just a myth,” he said. “Besides I’m 6th in the line, so there really isn’t any concern.”

52142

“There are a lot of interesting things in here,” Logan said, still focused on the chest. “Not to mention the books. We’ll have to be careful with those though since they don’t appear to be in stasis.”

Logan pulled the horse skull out and set it on the floor making Patton wince.

“Marisol no!” he said as Princess Marisol immediately went to go sniff at it. He swooped her up in his arms. “How long are we staying in this creepy room?” Patton asked.

“Patton, we just got here,” Logan said.

“We just got here and already found a skull!”

“Yes! Exactly!”

Patton groaned into Princess Marisol’s fur even as she tried wiggle away to go back and investigate the skull. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter 35

Logan was surprised when he woke up alone in bed. He’d grown to anticipate waking to a smaller body unrelentingly clinging to his in the past couple of weeks. Confused he sat up and peered around his bedroom. He wouldn’t have seen Virgil with the way he melted into the darkness if it he hadn’t heard the sound of purring coming from near the window. He could just barely make out a dark blob shifting up and down at the cat kneaded at a different blob sitting mostly hidden behind the thick curtain.

“Virgil?” Logan questioned. “What are you doing?”

“It’s snowing,” was the answer.

“That is not an answer,” Logan grumbled at the ceiling. With a sigh, he pulled himself out of bed. It was a bit chilly in here, he thought. The temperature must have dipped suddenly and intensely enough that the runes keeping the castle at a warm enough temperature hadn’t caught up yet. He pulled one of the blankets off of the top of his bed to wrap around his shoulders as he approached the window. There wasn’t much light outside, the stars and moon covered by clouds, but there were some lanterns lit for the night guard who patrolled the outside. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “It’s really snowing.”

It had been colder but not quite cold enough for snow to stick the day before, so it came as a surprise when he saw snow was piling up quite high to the point where familiar paths outside his window had disappeared.

“I don’t like it,” Virgil informed him.

“Why not?” Logan asked.

“It’s cold,” Virgil answered. It was clear in his tone that in Virgil’s opinion ‘cold’ was a horrible insult to the concept of snow. Logan quirked a half smile and his attention was drawn to the fact that it was quite cold right here close to the window.

Frowning, he pulled at the blanket around his shoulder so he could wrap it and his arm around the lump that was Virgil. He brushed the boy’s hand when he did so and found it was like ice.

“You’re freezing!” Logan said. “How long have you been by the window?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

Logan was already tugging at him. “You need to get back in bed,” he said.

Virgil obeyed the pulling at his arms even as he frowned. “I’ve been colder than this before,” he said.

“That actually doesn’t make me feel better,” Logan replied dryly as he shooed him towards the bed.

He took the thicker blanket that usually stayed folded at the end of the bed and pulled it up over Virgil before climbing into bed beside him.

“There,” Logan said, rubbing Virgil’s arms through the fabric of the sweater he wore to bed. He was glad he wasn’t wearing a t-shirt at least. “The runes for heating the castle should catch up within a few hours, but until then this should do. Assuming we don’t sit by the freezing window for an undetermined amount of time.”

“I don’t like the cold,” Virgil told him.

Logan sighed. “Then why did you sit by the window?”

Virgil shrugged and ducked his head a bit. Logan reached out to grab his hands to help him warm more but was surprised when one of the hands was much warmer than the other. He found his fingers were clutching a crescent shaped stone: the protection charm they’d made. Logan knew that he kept it in his pocket most of the time, but he didn’t normally see him holding it like this. It was warm to the touch, of course, indicating the safety of the room around them.

Logan looked over his face. “Are you…” he said. “Scared of the snow?”

“I don’t like the cold,” he said once again.

“You’re scared of the winter,” Logan concluded. He looked at Virgil who was far too small for his age and seemed surprised at every casual act of kindness. It was clear that his basic needs were far from being met before he came here. Logan had to wonder what winter usually meant for him. His experiences were doubtlessly very different from Logan’s own. “That makes sense,” he acknowledged, “but you don’t need to be scared of it here. The castle is always perfectly warm and safe in the winter and Mr. Deknis and Ms. Heart work hard during the other seasons to make sure we have plenty of food. There is nothing to fear here.”

He did not seem convinced.

“You don’t even have to go outside if you don’t want to,” Logan promised. “The castle is plenty big if you’d like to stay inside all winter long. It was made for the winter even without the magic devices that keep it warm. We have fireplaces and well insulated rooms even if those that ends up failing.” Logan pulled open the hand that had the protection charm just to transfer it to his other hand to warm it. “Though, while no one would force you to go outside, the snow isn’t always bad.”

“Yes it is,” Virgil said, his voice sure.

“Not all the time,” Logan insisted. “Some people love the snow.”

“They’re stupid.”

Logan laughed. “It can be fun for a while with the right equipment if you have someplace to get warm again afterwards. Royal duties slow down during the winter and Patton tends to come up with all sorts of games for both the inside and the outside to pass the time. He’s particularly proficient at snowball fights, at least against me.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Play fighting,” Logan answered. “Like pillow fights, but snow.”

“I’ll stick with the pillows,” he replied.

“And then there’s a hill to sled down on the western side of the castle, and people like to build snowmen along the path.”

“What are snowmen?” Virgil asked.

They’re temporary statues made out of packed snow,” Logan explained. “Typically, they’re made of three different sized balls of snow: the largest being the base and the smallest the ‘head’ though there are some variations. After building them one typically decorates them with different articles of clothing and objects found lying around. It’s usually sticks and rocks for the face and then things like extra hats and scarfs for decoration.” He smiled softly. “When my Pa was alive, we used to steal my Dad’s crown and fanciest robes. Sometimes Pa would steal it right off of Dad’s head and we’d run away. We’d find a secluded area of the castle yards and build the biggest snowman we could as quickly as we could before we got caught. He’d usually end up letting us keep the robes, but we’d have to give the crown back since some of the metals in it would rust when wet.”

“That sounds…” Virgil’s nose twitched. “fun if you take away the touching snow part.”

Logan laughed. “It is fun,” he said. “Even with the touching snow part. Though, I admit that some of the ability for it to be entertaining does come from the fact that we could warm up afterwards with ease. You’ll enjoy Patton’s mother’s constant offering of hot chocolate during the season even if you never go outside, I’m sure.”

“Hot chocolate?” Virgil asked intrigued. His dark eyes shone brightly in the little light coming through the window. It was clear he could guess something about the drink just by the name and enjoyed the implications.

Logan smiled fondly. “It is a hot drink,” he explained. “It’s a warm drink made out of milk and chocolate. I can get you some to try in the morning.”

Virgil nodded, eyes still wide with interest.

“For now, we should sleep though,” Logan said. “Are you warm enough? I can get more blankets.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Good,” Logan said, reaching up and adjusting the blanket over them once more, tucking it around Virgil a little bit for good measure. “Goodnight Virgil,” he said.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly. Logan reached under the blankets to grab the hand that was still slightly chilly from the window between his own. Virgil’s eyes slipped closed after a moment as he nuzzle his face into the pillow. At some point they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 36

Thomas had already been well aware that winter was on the way, but he and the rest of the castle occupants had been surprised at how intensely and suddenly it had come on. Most things were ready for the winter, but not all of them had been initiated. The fireplaces that took some pressure off the castle heating runes were cleaned out and ready, but they hadn’t been started yet. The stables for different animals on the grounds had been checked over and staff assignments had been made, but most were still in far out fields. Staff that went home for the winter months had been dismissed, but there were a few stragglers that would have to be helped home before things got worse.

He’d gone out to the main stable to talk to the three workers that were the heads of different areas of animal husbandry to make sure a plan to get everything to where it needed to be soon was in place. It took a while to figure out considering that they’d expected a little more time before the first major snowfall. Thomas also asked them to make sure all of the workers’ homes were in good enough condition for the weather. Ranch hands typically had homes on castle grounds but not in the castle themselves since they needed to be close to the animals. Thomas knew at least half a dozen of those who spent most of their times out in the fields were the type to forgot to maintain their homes because they preferred camping amongst the animals in the summer months and then would be in for a bad time when snow began to fall.

There should be enough extra rooms in the castle if they needed a place to stay until repairs could be done.

Those conversations took a good couple of hours, before Thomas was satisfied. Before trudging back to the castle through the still falling snow, he made a point to stop at one specific horse stall in the main stable. The horse turned his head to see Thomas when he stopped in front of his stall and puffed out a rather disaffected snort before sticking his head over the gate so Thomas could pat his nose. “Hello, Mr. Apples,” Thomas said.

The horse seemed to conclude he’d tolerated Thomas’s petting enough and ducked his head to nudge at his torso. Thomas rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I brought you an apple. Some things never change.” He reached into his pocket to grab the red apple he’d brought the white Arabian. “At least you don’t bite me anymore.” He paused, apple slice in hand and eyed the horse’s nose suspiciously. “Do not bite me,” he said even though he hadn’t felt the animal’s teeth in a decade. It would be just like Mr. Apples to wait until his guard was down.

After a bit of scrutiny, he offered an apple slice. It was snatched out of his hand and there was a loud crunch as it was bit into.

“It’s snowing out,” he told the horse. The horse seemed to roll his eyes at the statement of the obvious. “I’ll remind again that if you run out in a snowstorm, I’m not running after you, so you’d be out of luck.”

Mr. Apples snorted.

“You’re old now. You’d probably not survive long enough for people to find you. Besides, you blend in with that white fur of yours. They’d probably walk right past you a few times.”

He went back to nosing for treats as soon as he finished his first and Thomas sighed, pulling out another apple slice. “What are they not feeding you enough?” The gusto with which the horse snatched the apple slice was a very clear answer. “Well, we both know that’s not true.” Thomas fed the horse a third slice of apple when he was done with his second. “I have to get back to the castle now. Don’t be a devil horse.”

Mr. Apples threw his head a bit, splattering apple smelling foamy spittle all over Thomas’s front.

“Understood. Have a nice afternoon.”

He left Mr. Apples in his stall then, knowing he’d be well cared for no matter how ill-tempered he could be at times. He’d been a king’s horse once, after all, no matter that said king had been dead for more than a decade now.

Winters were hard.

Winters were the times when things always slowed down at the castle, where royal duties were often thin. There were a lot of memories in winter.

The trip back to the castle was not particularly long, but it was also not particularly pleasant. The snow had not been cleared away considering it was still snowing which meant his feet and legs were wet and cold by the time he made it to the nearest castle door.

He wasn’t sure if, when he entered, the castle heating runes had started to work in earnest or if he’d just been so cold that any measure of warmth was appreciated, but he was relieved to be out of the snow either way.

He decided to check up on the progress of the castle staff lighting the fireplaces. With any luck, they’d be lit already, and he could warm up even more. That in mind, he headed towards the main foyer where the largest fireplace in the castle sat to take off the chill brought in by the large front doors.

The main foyer was bustling with activity when he snuck in along the sides, giving the guards stationed around nods as he passed. The main fire in the room was burning brightly, though only one of the two smaller ones near the side exits from the room was lit. The other one was still being set up with safety mechanisms. It was good progress and assuming other areas of the castle were being set up as efficiently, he assumed they’d all be set up by nightfall.

He’d need to go check around to be sure, but for now, he walked up to the main fireplace to warm his hands.

He’d gotten into the habit when he was younger to every so often glance upwards. There had been a certain stable boy who had a propensity for climbing trees. These days, he usually found nothing when he did so, often not even consciously noticing that he’d turned his gaze momentarily skywards. Yet, today, he was startled out of his own idleness by dark brown eyes looking back at him from a small ledge in the shadows high above him.

He froze as he met the young boy’s gaze. Virgil seemed as surprised to be caught as Thomas was to have caught him.

#proofread stories #not writing

18 notes · View notes

dappercritter · 4 years ago

Text

Godzilla vs Kong: Brutally Honest Thoughts

(Took me long enough, eh? Depending on home video releases be like that.)

So first things first, I have a confession to make: I spoiled the movie before I watched it. I was impatient and they had only announced an HBO Max premiere in the states and a theatrical run in Canada at the time. Afterward, I got heads-up from a friend and immersed myself in the opinions of those lucky enough to see it early. I’m just saying that I have some preconceived opinions that I’m sticking to.

That said, Godzilla vs Kong turned out to be more fun than I expected! But you already knew that. Everyone did. The two kings of movie monsters had their rematch and this time it was with glorious Hollywood SFX powering it this time.

The human story was fun but it’s clear they stopped trying at this point. Team Kong stole my heart, especially Jia. Team Godzilla (although the Conspiracy Crew would be a more fitting term since they spend more time chasing down mysteries than trying to back or understand Godzilla) was more fun than I expected and their dynamic was surprisingly enjoyable. Bernie is actually kind of funny, it's nice to see Madison acting more assertive, and Josh was fine--he was the only sane man of the bunch but he was also the butt of the jokes. Still, all the hardcore conspiracy jokes got old fast and it feels off seeing the daughter of two scientists turn into an edgy conspiracy crackpot. Why not an edgy science major?

Team Apex are fun villains, especially Walter Simmons who's a great megalomaniacal CEO type, but Ren Serizawa is a joke. I like his actor's performance but he's just another footnote. Nobody bats an eye at his last name, although the only heroes he interacts with are Nathan Lind and he just misses Team Godzilla. He really could have just been any other villain, but instead, they had to sully Serizawa’s legacy further while robbing a good actor of some interesting material. (As is, it turns out he was just an egotistical jerk with daddy issues--an easy puzzle to solve on day one--after all...)

However, I still cannot and will not approve of the fact that somebody thought it would be a good idea to make the heroes of a sci-fi story into hardcore conspiracy theorists in this day and age. Likewise, I’m not a huge fan of how they essentially made the Hollow Earth into its own universe complete with a crazy portal and an environment with its own laws of physics, nor am I totally crazy about the huge leap in technology that was made between this and KOTM, or G’14 for that matter.

The monsters as awesome as they are, are the biggest mixed bag in the show.

Kong is at his best in ages, and while I am all for the new heroic warrior character that Legendary have crafted and I acknowledge that making him a worthy opponent for their god-tier Godzilla was going to be a hurdle, I think they did a splendid job. Seeing Kong using agility and acrobatics was a glorious sight to behold, and something about Kong becoming a tool-user and weapon wielder just feels right. It’s a far better demonstration of Kong as a “thinking animal” (*wink, wink*).

I’m much less thrilled about their treatment of his greatest opponent ever. After everything they’ve done to build up Godzilla as the incredible force of neutral good fighting to maintain balance and all the build up to ancient rivalry debating back to a great Titan war--even going as far as putting his name in front Kong’s this time!-- they’ve reduced Godzilla back to glorified bully for Kong. He only gets the minimum amount of sympathy from the cast of his movie before they go off to deal with the conspiracy plot or focus on Kong and the Hollow Earth. Worse still, he is somehow more powerful and more aggressive than ever for a good chunk of the movie which leads to an outcome I’m sorry to say we all saw coming. Somehow, I suspect that the reason behind this was how Wingard cited Godzilla vs. Mothra, vs. Destoryah, and Shin-Godzilla as influences for the monsters scale and story, which while cool and all, are all movies where he was played up as a mostly stoic antagonist rather than a three-dimensional character like Kong. (Though ironically vs. Destoroyah and Shin did a better job of making Godzilla feel more sympathetic and in both of them he was a walking nuclear reactor meltdown.)

Due to the unfortunate time constraints of the three-way deal between Toho, WB, and Universal at the time this was in production, Kong was unable to secure a proper sequel that could develop his skillset like Godzilla’s did. Nevermind the fact the filmmakers completely surrendered to the “nothing matters but the monsters” mentality that a chunk of the fanbase has been spouting since this universe unofficially kicked off almost 10 years ago. (Sidenote: Oh god, I’m turning in an old fart already.) As a result, the movie trips over itself trying to set up Godzilla and Kong’s rivalry as well as building up Kong as a worthy opponent to Godzilla while expanding on their shared lore, and as a result countless plot points set up in in the previous movie and tie-in movie are thrown out the window. I’m sorry to say but in spite of all hopes and illusions of grandeur, it’s safe to this damn thing is a Kong movie with Godzilla as the bad guy.

...at least until HE shows up. Yup, Mechagodzilla. The biggest spoiled twist of the centuries steals the show so the movie can pull a Dawn of Justice. But! It does it much better than the fractured DCEU’s most controversial entry ever could. Mechagodzilla’s inclusion gets a decent amount of build up thanks to Team Godzilla/the Conspiracy Crew, and when he shows up, does he make an impression! At first, I wasn’t sure how to feel about his inclusion or his design, but I’ve come to like this one. He’s basically a kaiju terminator built in Godzilla’s image made purely out of heavy machinery piloted by the best Ghidorah head. It’s a jarring change of pace compared to previous MechaG’s but it grows on you after a while. With the abundance of weaponry stuffed into him, he feels like a fitting update of the original killing machine, and even if his inclusion feels like an easy way out of the big showdown, it’s fun to see him played as a literal colossal heel for the kings to team up against. Not to mention he looks shockingly good with those red highlights. However, one still can’t help but wonder how and why he was made in this universe, or how he feels like pure heavy machinery one minute and then an extra-large Ultron unit the next.

As for the the big throwdowns we’ve all been waiting for... well, we’re still in the mixed bag deparment. While the fights are all exciting and excellently choreographed, and benefit from some more eclectic lighting and cinematograph, I’m sorry to say that as far as the rematch of the century goes they dropped the ball on this one.

Don’t get me wrong, the fights are all great in their own ways, but there’s a drastic change in the feeling of weight and power with the monsters. Godzilla, Kong, and even Mechagodzilla all feel strangely floaty in most of their fights. One moments they feel like true behemoths shaking the very earth with every movement and then it’s like they’re in Godzilla Unleashed, running, jumping, and throwing each other around with speed that feels that almost makes you wonder if the Hollow Earth’s gravity inversion stuff is leaking out into the world. While it’s all perfectly cool, you can’t help but wonder how Kong is able to leap between aircraft carriers and buildings, when Godzilla got the ability to blow a hole through the Earth itself, or how a colossal machine is able to move so nimbly or why it has to be flashing blue all the time.

It’s fascinating and fun but you just can’t help but wonder how we got from almost posthuman disaster and war movies exploring how we’re at the mercy of the ancient almost mythical forces beyond our comprehension, we’ve found ourselves smack dab in the middle of Bayformers meets Jurassic World levels of Hollywood absurdity where anything and everything can and will happen in the name of getting to the monster fights. Although I can’t say I’m surprised given the director’s take on Death Note made some questionable choices with it’s take on the infamous cast while still coming up with some genuinely inspired choices. Still, all things considered we could have gotten worse compared to ther cinematic universes made by WB and Universal.

As for some misc. thoughts to close up this rambling mess:

-The soundtrack is fantastic. A great continuation of the feel of Skull Island’s mixtape with some truly wonderful picks. Special mention goes to the opening and ending songs, and they GOT AN ELVIS PRESLEY SONG IN HERE! YES!!! The three kings of pop culture together at last!

-While this movie didn’t need to be any more overstuffed, it would have been nice if the rest of the Titans didn’t disappear entirely from this movie. I get that Godzilla: Dominion already explained what happened to them all more or less, but it really is a missed oppurtunity that we never got to see another Titan war. Or Rodan attacking Kong to avenge his pterosaur bretheren from days long past. Speaking of which...

-“Save Mothra” jokes be damned, Mothra would have been a welcome gues star, not just to help break up the big fight, but to show off Godzilla’s softer, more protective side. And yes, I want more Mothzilla. Shut up, we deserve it.

-Boy, Monarch sure does a whole lot of nothing up-top, huh?

-The cinematography is a great update but there’s a little too much neon lighting, especially in the Apex HQ and the Hollow Earth throne room. It feels like they’re trying just a little too hard to sell the more futuristic, Hollywood sci-fi feel.

-The score is... great but not that great. Of course, I’ve always had mixed feelings about Tom Holkenburg (AKA Junkie XL)’s music. I liked Kong’s themes, but they REALLY dropped the ball with Godzilla’s theme. Mechagodzilla’s works really well as long you ignore that it’s just Godzilla’s theme in this movie with an ominious choir added in.

-The new Hollow Earth creatures are all perfectly fine. Actually, I thought they were another highlight! Especially the Warbats, Hellhawks, and Doug the Titanus Foetodon Man.

-I want to do a release the extended cut campaign but I don’t think any of us have the energy for that s**t anymore.

24 notes · View notes

kitkat1003 · 4 years ago

Text

Who Are You Really?

Spirit Masterpost (Ao3 link there)

Chapter 2: Find A Way In

Summary: This town's got quite the cast of characters

Spirit spends the next couple of months on reconnaissance. They hop over rooftops and monitor the town where the supposed successor lives. They hadn’t had the time to ask for a description after getting their orders from the Demon Bull Family, and they’re afraid to go back to the trio with their query.

Something about that home is broken. Spirit has spent enough time in a broken home to know it’s not a nice place to be in for long. Best to stay away unless they’re needed.

The town that the successor lives in is pretty lively. They only assume this is where the successor lives, though, because the successor had arrived to fight Demon Bull King rather quickly and would likely need to be close by.

They watch the city from the rooftops. Bright colors, people, loud noises—they would hate to be down there, lost in the madness, but from a far enough distance it’s tolerable.

The people are so...loud. There’s so much stuff here. So many things, sights, sounds. It’s awful pretty, especially the glowing stuff. Spirit tries touching it, but it’s really hot. Whatever it is, it burns.

They’re sitting on top of a skyscraper, taking a break with some cheese tea they got because they were curious about it, when the sky shifts. The weather begins changing without reason. That gets them to jump down, because it sounds like a storm is brewing and the higher up you are the more likely you are to be hit by lightning. Getting hit by lightning does not sound appealing.

They duck down into an alleyway, shifting into human form just as Red comes onto the myriad screens all over the city.

Spirit has to give him credit, it’s certainly a foreboding speech. They don’t do well when giving speeches. Often when they’re sent to intimidate or kill they either write up a script on their way there or stay silent. Whichever is more effective, anyway.

They lean against the wall as mortals panic, pulling out their nifty little phone. It’s sturdy, which is good, since they can be a bit clumsy with their things.

‘Red’ They type out. They gave him their number when they got a phone, excited to have one. He’d texted them a lot of boxes. They don’t know what the boxes mean, but they hope they’re nice.

‘I heard your speech up on the screens! It was very articulate and polite, and threatening! I think your dad will be mighty impressed with you.

Do you need my assistance? Please let me know. I’m in the area, so I can come quickly!

From,

Spirit’

They rock back and forth on their feet, turning their head to the side and watching as the mortals all vanish into their buildings, the streets becoming empty in minutes. Spirit has to admire the speed of it. Maybe they got more vigilant after the attack by Demon Bull King. It’s only been a few months since the attack, long enough to set in some sense of safety but short enough that they would still be on edge. Spirit knows the timeline of overcoming traumatic experiences. They start to fade out of the forefront after about half a year if you’re lucky.

Their phone buzzes. It’s from Red!

They blink at the deluge of boxes, using the little arrow buttons on their phone to scroll down.

‘i don’t need anyone! Thnx for the compliment’

Spirit blinks a few times, and shrugs. Red never is very eloquent in text form, and they’ve heard that brevity is the soul of wit! Whatever that means. Spirit isn’t quite sure. Plus, they can understand the desire to do everything by yourself, especially when you’re doing something to prove yourself to someone.

Since the town is pretty much deserted, Spirit takes the time to walk around, get to know the place. They know it plenty from a bird’s eye view, but whenever you scope out a territory it’s best to know all the angles. They trace the different side streets with their eyes and memorize the street signs. They might make a diagram, to make sure the layout sticks in their head.

They’re pretty calm, until they feel the ever ethereal power that comes only from one source.

The Monkey King.

Something like primal terror freezes them in place for a split second, before they race away running as far away from the outpouring of heavenly power that comes with the Monkey King’s presence. They can’t even think about where they’re going, feet pressing hard against the messy street pavement. T, crunching on glass and debris without thought because they just need to get away. They know who Monkey King is. They know that they would mean nothing to such a monarch, to such a being. They have no favors to spare, nothing to keep themself safe, so why wouldn’t he jump on the chance to get rid of them?

Considering their reputation, considering the times they’ve colluded with Monkey King’s enemies, there’s no reason to believe he’d let them live, if he saw them. No reason to think that he wouldn’t leave them a bloody stain on the pavement the moment they appeared in his line of sight.

Or worse, he’ll \tear out an eye for your insolence. He clearly doesn’t have a problem pulling out organs, from what you’ve heard in the stories, and with what he did to Macaque? He’ll ruin you. Well, at least you’d finally have a normal amount of eyes, right?

Their breaths come in short bursts. They climb up to the roof of a short building, curled into a little ball, and shut their eyes.

They don’t manage a single normal breath until they feel the energy of the Monkey King fade out. He must have left, back to his mountain. Good. That means they won’t die today, which really is something! Every day they manage to live is kind of a surprise, really. They’re consistently shocked by their ability to keep going.

They carefully sit up and glance down at their feet. Bleeding, apparently. Not a surprise, given how they weren’t careful when sprinting through the street, but annoying nonetheless. They pull out the pieces of glass, clean off the wound with some antibiotic ointment they keep on them at all times (Mom used to make it herself with stuff they scavenged in the forest, and now you can buy an even better version in the store for cheap), and wrap their feet in gauze.

Once that’s done, they lay back, spread eagle on the roof, staring up at the cloudy sky as they try to regulate their breaths. They’re not exactly steady yet, but at least now they can breathe. Soon, though, the sky clears, and Spirit has to squint to keep the sun from burning their retinas. Their phone buzzes in their pocket, and they pull it out, holding it up so the shadow of it falls over their face, blocking the sun a little.

‘The garbage noodle boy will pay!’

They type out a reply.

‘Red.

I don’t know who the noodle boy is, but I’m sorry he made you upset. Did you have to leave the weather tower? Do you need anything?

Let me know!

Spirit.’

They get a bunch of boxes and a very hard to follow explanation, but eventually they parse it out. Noodle boy is the nickname Red has for Monkey King’s successor, and apparently he came in and kicked Red out of the weather tower.

Spirit asks if Red needs help with his next scheme, but Red declines. That’s fine.

Spirit knows when they aren’t wanted.

As the sky clears, people begin to peer out their windows, and a few brave souls actually leave their homes. Within an hour, the city is back to its bustling state, if a little slow as it tries to reset from the panic. Spirit watches this happens with a fascination one would have with watching ants build a colony. Well, not in the sense that mortals are just like ants, but they are simple in many ways and complicated in others. Peril is unknown to them in a way Spirit never could understand, and to see them grapple with the appearance of it and work it into their community and lives is ever fascinating. Mortals are very tight knit, after all. Everything affects the collective.

Demons are typically solitary creatures. They create small clans, sure, but they do not settle, create towns for themselves.

Spirit flits between the different factions and never settles themself. They have a few caves that could become homes, if they stayed, but they never do. Not when there are favors to hand out, places to explore. Besides, an empty home isn’t a fun one to return to.

They’re about to head out, disappear into the forest areas outside of the town for the night, but the roof door to the building opens.

“Hey,” comes a gruff voice.

Spirit freezes. They turn their head around, slowly, eyes wide.

The figure that stands before them is a stout pig demon, wearing what appears to be a chef’s coat. He’s got stubble, sharp blue eyes, and small tusks that peek out over his upper lip. He stares at them without animosity. Mostly interest and confusion.

Spirit, at a glance, suspects that they’d be able to take him, should he attack. A second glance, more a read of a soul, proves otherwise. Whoever this is, there’s a power they’re hiding. A lot of power.

“Don’t see a lot of monkeys around here,” The demon says.

“Sorry,” Spirit replies, immediately. “I-uh-I didn’t know this was your roof, I was just sitting up here for the view-I-I’m leaving, so—”

They don’t want to get in a fight. There’s no point in trying to throw on glamour, appearing human. And they don’t know how to really explain themselves, either.

The demon raises his hands in a peaceful gesture, trying to put Spirit at ease. It doesn’t exactly work, considering it reveals the demon’s claws. Dull as they are, Spirit is sure he knows how to use them. But they do recognize the sentiment.

“Hey, hey, no need to apologise, ‘s long as you’re not causing trouble,” he gives them a sort of half grin. “Just figured I’d see what you were up ta, if you were alright. Not often I find anyone hiding on a roof for a good reason.”

Spirit stares. They don’t exactly know how to react in this situation, so they just. Don’t. Their tail curls around one leg and they wish they could just. Run. But then he might chase them. That wouldn’t be good at all.

“Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck, seemingly uncomfortable with the silence. “I’m Pigsy.”

How...appropriate? Spirit fights a giggle, because of course his name is Pigsy, what else could it be? The smile worms its way onto their face anyway, and their ears twitch as they look anywhere but at Pigsy.

Pigsy smiles back and chuckles a little.

“Yeah, I know it’s kind of on the nose. Not my first choice of a name, but apparently it’s everyone else’s,” he snorts.

This time, Spirit does giggle, their nose crinkling with the motion as their smile reaches their eyes. They relax a little. If Pigsy is at ease enough to joke, it’ll probably be okay. They’ll probably be okay.

“You, uh, mind telling me your name?” Pigsy asks them, and they freeze again, suddenly shy.

They fidget, then sigh. It would be rude to not tell him, even though they wanted to keep a low profile, but Pigsy is asking nicely, and he doesn’t seem mean. What’s the harm?

“Spirit,” they reply.

With a wave, they leap across the space of the street between the two buildings, sliding down the back side of the building. It’s easy enough to slip into human form and disappear into the crowds towards the outskirts of the city.

They sleep leaning against a tree. It isn’t terribly comfortable, but Spirit is used to that.

The next month is spent really getting to know the town. It’s a huge place, and Spirit wants to be aware of every nook and cranny, just in case. They’re a bit on edge, too, because Monkey King was here, which means he’s unafraid to come back. If they’re around when he does, that wouldn’t be good.

But if they know all the secret passageways, just maybe, they’ll be able to outrun him. From what they hear, the Monkey King cares about mortals, so he’d probably try and mitigate collateral. If they disappear into a crowd, or get underground, they’d likely escape.

They have plans. They make them whenever they stop on a skyscraper and let the wind blow through their fur, when they look down at the steep drop and think about catching a hand over a thousand years ago, when they think about every step to the present. They have a plan for every street corner and alleyway, should they be caught. They have to. It’s the only way to survive.

Their plans come to a halt when they feel a soul split. Well, not split, because that’s not possible, but at the very, least spread out. All kept together by a thin, golden tether that ties them to their source.

It starts as just one tether. Then two. Three, seven, fifteen, thirty-eight, a hundred—Spirit goes dizzy trying to count them all, up on the tallest building in the town. The weather tower’s roof basically has seats built into its design, if you push a window open and sit on the glass tile, so it’s fun to climb on top of it.

Eventually, they have to see what is happening, because the city is dancing with golden lights scattered across it, and it’s making Spirit dizzy.

A group of tethers coalesces in a single building, an anti gravity arcade. Spirit hasn’t gone in, because they like when their feet stick to the ground, and the amount of noise and bright lights is enough to leave them dizzy for decades. They hop to the roof of it, peering over the ledge to see just who is inside.

“Monkey King?”

Spirit whirls around, and comes face to face with a mortal, wearing a bright orange jacket, red pants, a white shirt with a target on the chest (which, not that Spirit would say, is a bit odd, and is asking for a chest injury), and a red headband.

Then, an identical copy of that mortal appears. Then another.

Suddenly, Spirit is surrounded.

“Uh,” they start. “No?”

Regardless of their valiant effort to make it known that they are not the Monkey King, they’re dogpiled quickly, grabbed by tens of hands and carried into the sensory hell that is the anti-gravity arcade.

Considering they’re not being hurt, and considering they can’t move their arms, Spirit doesn’t struggle much. They just shut their eyes, coiling their tail around their leg and staying as limp as possible. Resistance seems a bit futile, and if they’re malleable instead of stiff they’re less likely to be damaged during their, uh, transport.

“I’m really not the Monkey King,” they try again, though their voice gets muffled by the many, many figures holding them.

The group stops. There’s a buzz of chatter before one voice cuts out above everything.

“Alright, alright, what’s the haps? What’s got y’all making me step away from the porty?” The voice has a very casual lilt to it, but it’s recognizable as the same voice of all the other mortals.

“We found the Monkey King!” One of the clones pipes up.

“You what?!”

“We got him, boss!”

“You—okay, okay, lemme see! Drop him!”

Spirit is dropped onto the ground unceremoniously, and the crowd parts so they can look up to this supposed leader.

He looks like the rest of the group, but his orange jacket is tied around his waist and his shirt doesn’t have the target on it the rest of them do. He’s got his pants bunched up at the base of his boots, blue headphones hanging off his neck, and when he glances down at them, Spirit sees a flash of a sharp tooth poking up over his bottom lip.

“Sorry,” they say. “I’m, uh, not the Monkey King.”

The ringleader groans, leaning his head back.

“Of course you’re not,” he says, though the tone doesn’t indicate that he’s angry at them, which is nice. He turns to the group standing behind Spirit, and glares. “C’mon, boys! I told ya if you saw the Monkey King, you report back to me. No goin’ after him, no makin’ a fuss. If this was the real deal, he’d’ve had you poofed quick! The Boss might not know how to make us go away yet, but the King definitely does.”

He gives a quick, cursory glance over the group.

“We lose anyone?” he asks.

The group shakes their heads.

“Good. Now, next time, listen to me!” he shouts.

Spirit flinches at the sound.

The group, thoroughly chastised, all mumble apologies. The leader sighs.

“Alright, alright. Half of you keep on look out, and the rest of you go and play. We got the arcade to ourselves, after all,” he waves them off, and they scatter.

Once they’re gone, he turns to Spirit. Spirit stiffens and very carefully picks themself up.

“Sorry ‘bout them,” The leader says. “They’re not the brightest bunch, and any monkey demon is gonna get them excited. I told them to look out for the Monkey King, not kidnap him, but you spread one brain cell thin enough and things are bound ta’ get lost in translation.

Spirit glances around. They look to be backstage somewhere. The hum of pounding bass is muffled, but they can still hear the music. There are no flashing lights, which is nice.

“Haven’t seen or heard of ya’, though.” The leader speaks up again, drawing back Spirit’s attention. “What’s your name?”

“Spirit,” Spirit replies. “And, um, it’s okay. They weren’t very rough handling me, so it was fine.

“Um,” They can tell the leader isn’t an original, they can see the tether, but they have to ask. “You’re, uh, like them, right?”

The leader shrugs.

“If by ‘like them’ you mean a clone? Sure,” he leans in close toward them. “But, uh, keep that on the DL, you know? Don’t want it gettin’ spread around.”

Spirit blinks a few times. So, clones. That isn’t surprising. Macaque can make clones from his shadows, and he told them that Monkey King can make clones out of hair. The successor must have inherited that power.

The thing that does confuse them, is

“DL?” they ask.

The leader raises a brow. “The down low?”

“Uh…” Spirit fidgets and glances at their feet.

The lingo makes no sense. Is it a new thing? They’re really bad at keeping up with trends and dialogues. Their ears burn with embarrassment. They must look really stupid.

“Just don’t go tellin’ nobody, alright?” The leader clarifies.

Spirit nods.

“Okay! But, uh, why are you hiding?” It doesn’t seem to make sense. If the successor made the clones, why do they feel the need to run from him?

“Cuz the Boss made us, made us do a bunch of his dirty work, and I don’t think he’s gonna like that we got tired of it.” The leader glares out toward where Spirit assumes the rest of the arcade is. “Free will ain’t something clones are supposed to have. I’m a little more, uh, on the wild side. The rest of the boys are pretty simple, so I keep ‘em close so they don’t get into trouble. And hey,” He smiles, all sharp teeth. “Can’t have a porty if you don’t got a roaring crowd.”

Well then. That certainly changes things. Spirit has never wondered about the sentience of clones, considering they’ve never interacted with them for long. Macaque’s shadow clones are more extensions of himself than they are sentient creatures, and they never talk. But, if clones really do become sentient, it’s a rather cruel thing to strip that sentience away, right? So long as they aren’t hurting anyone, anyway.

“That’s fair,” they shrug. “But, um, if you want to really stand out, maybe some new clothes will help?”

“That a fit check?” The leader smirks.

“A what?”

“Nevermind,” The leader waves a hand. “What you got in mind?”

Spirit tilts their head to the side in thought.

“I think, um...your aesthetic,” they start. “It doesn’t fit with, uh, the others, so I could get you some new clothes. Accessories. As a favor?” They shrug, a bit self conscious.

The leader is pretty confident, and Spirit is decidedly not. It’s awkward to think that they could be of service.

A blade has a use, but if you have claws that are just as sharp, why buy the tool?

The leader considers this, and then shrugs.

“Sounds good, 3 eyes,” he agrees.

Spirit blinks. “It’s Spirit,” they clarify.

“Sure.” The leader shrugs them off. “Exit’s down the hall to your right.”

Spirit nods and dashes off. Slipping into human form is easy as a new set of clothes, though they always have to be wary of their tail, wrapping it around their waist like a belt so as not to arise suspicion.

Sure, demons live in this town, but the ratio seems 10:1 and Spirit prefers to blend in. Besides, if they get mistaken for Monkey King again, they might just scream, if only to startle the crowd so they can get away.

They flit between stores, looking for something fitting for a character like that clone had been. Spirit isn’t good at fashion, Macaque picked out their outfit after all, but they do have several eyes for flashy things (two, the third isn’t as entranced by such things). They grab a pair of visor glasses, pink to accent the blue. They have these weird lines through them, probably to see through. Spirit thinks they’d be mighty useful to counteract all the bright lights.

Then they look for something orange to replace the jacket, since it seems to be a fixture on all the other clones. They find a kind of garish orange tiger print coat. It’s pretty wild, and, well, the leader said he was pretty wild. They toss it over their shoulder and head back toward the arcade.

They come in the same back way, because anything to spare themselves the sensory overload of the arcade is worth it, though they feel eyes from all around watching them as they approach the backstage.

Two large bouncers step in front of Spirit, as they approach the backstage, and Spirit nearly trips and falls in their haste to back away. They’ve never been a fan of looming figures, and even though they’d probably be the same height as the bouncers if they stood up straight, they’re far too used to hunching down to do anything else.

“U-um,” they manage a whisper, clearing their throat before they continue, trying to speak up above the din of the music blaring in the other room. “I-uh-I-the boss, uh, wanted me to get him some clothes, so…”

They hold up the items they found as proof, giving the two bouncers a shaky smile.

The two share a look, before one walks toward the stage, leaning down for a moment to talk to someone before straightening back up.

“3 eyes!”

Spirit fights the urge to wince at the nickname, because they don’t like that they only have three eyes, they don’t like the reminder. Instead, they sigh and smile awkwardly, waving as the leader saunters over.

“Hello,” they show off their pickings. “I thought these would fit. Since, uh, neon pink and blue go well together, and, um, I thought this jacket could, uh—”

“It’s way better than the old one!” The leader snatches both items out of Spirit’s hand.

The shades go on his face quick, and he tosses his old jacket so fast it’s a blur as it hits the wall. He slides the new one onto his shoulders and leans back, hands in his pockets.

“Do I look good?” he asks, then continues without waiting for an answer. “Nevermind, course I do! Look at me!”

“I am,” Spirit agrees with a half shrug.

“Nice work, 3 eyes! The fit fits!” He chuckles, and did his teeth get even sharper in the half an hour or so Spirit has been gone? They can’t tell.

He plays with the sleeves of the new coat, and glances down at his feet.

“Anyway, uh.” For a moment, he’s almost shy. “Picked out a name for myself. Figured keepin’ the old one made no sense and all.”

“Oh?” Spirit keeps their tone carefully neutral, tilting their head to the side.

“Yeah. Porty.” Porty gives them a wry grin. “If I say it weird, might as well be my brand, right?”

“Sure?” Brand? Spirit thought a brand was when you put hot iron on something. Macaque wanted them to do that to a cow he found, but they couldn’t. It was too mean.

“Anyway,” Porty’s voice cuts through their confusion. “I gotta get back to my DJ stand. Wanna stay for the porty?”

Spirit lets out a nervous laugh.

“Oh, uh, no thank you,” they say, and when Porty frowns, they scramble to explain. “Not that I don’t, uh, like parties-I—” Well, they’re no good at lying. “I just have uh, really sensitive eyes and ears. It would be too loud and bright for me,” Spirit lands on something truthful as they finish, giving Porty a hopeful smile.

Porty’s expression stays carefully neutral, before he bursts into a sharp toothed grin that stretches wide across his face.

“That’s fair, but don’t be a stranger, kay? Us wild ones gotta stick together!” He nudges their arm.

Spirit thinks Porty is awfully nice and cool, but he talks in ways that make their head spin.

“Got it,” they reply in lieu of asking for clarification, and they disappear out the back door as the music swells again.

They write Porty’s favor into their book just as they start to see the tethers vanish. One by one, like dying stars flickering out, they disappear. Spirit watches, wide eyed, as each of over a hundred vanishes.

There's a pit in their stomach, as they think of the giggly, desperate for approval, mostly kind clones suddenly ceasing to exist. Thinks of the many voices going silent.

Macaque would tell them that clones are a means to an end, a weapon to be discarded after use. But the successor didn’t discard them after use, he used them and left them, abandoned them. And now has the audacity to get rid of them when they’re becoming too sentient for his liking?

Spirit doesn’t know the circumstances. It’s rude to judge a person over things Spirit doesn’t know the full story of. But they didn’t hate the clones, and Porty, for all his faults, seemed to just want to make a good time for people. Not the type of good time Spirit would enjoy, but they know others might.

Curled up on the roof of a skyscraper, they watch the lights disappear. The arcade, a veritable lighthouse of stars, loses its many tethers in an instant. The mass of light vanishes as if blown away by a gust of wind, until there’s only one left.

The final one, Spirit knows.

It disappears like the rest.

They break into the arcade that night, and find the coat and glasses on the floor, abandoned. The arcade is dark and there is broken glass all over the floor, but Spirit steps around it, eyes only for the coat and glasses. The things they got for him. To prove that he was more.

Now all that’s left.

They pick the two items up gently and bury them out in the woods. Maybe Porty wasn’t a real person, maybe he was a means to an end that got out of hand, but Spirit can’t fault anyone who lets them do them a favor. And besides, sometimes all that’s left of people are memories, and Spirit wants to remember.

They remember Mom, and they know they’re the only one who does. They can carry that weight for the clones, too, if no one else will.

They get a call from the Long family a month or so after meeting the clone, and isn’t it funny how one of the most affluent, mystically inclined families lives just on the outskirts of the town that Demon Bull King was sealed in? Spirit wonders if they settled here for that reason, perhaps guarding the staff that the Monkey King left behind, since Monkey King had left it there without any thought.

Spirit doesn’t hate anyone (their father doesn’t count, because they made sure he wasn’t anyone ever, just a memory in Spirit’s mind, forgotten by time as his body burned on its pyre) but they severely dislike the lack of responsibility Monkey King takes. Not only did he seal away Demon Bull King (Spirit is aware that Demon Bull King was destroying villages and causing a stir, but Monkey King took Red away and what parent wouldn’t be angry?), but he didn’t even stick around to watch over his seal! He just left it, like the staff alone would be the end-all.

Spirit would be too anxious to ever leave something that could even possibly be broken. Maybe they’re paranoid, but they would have at least stuck around, or left a guard, or something!

Honestly, it isn’t surprising that Red managed to break it, eventually.

They arrive at the Long residence to a sight of a broken down door and demolished artifacts scattered across the entrance hallway. They blink, three eyes darting around to try and drink everything in.

“Ah, Spirit,” Comes a prim voice.

Spirit jumps, and turns to find a couple, dressed in green and gold, staring at them. They’re dolled up, makeup and everything. Spirit bows, polite.

“Hello,” They greet. “You’re in need of a favor?”

“Yes,” the woman answers. “Yesterday, there was an attack on our home by the Demon Bull Family. Many priceless artifacts were destroyed in the process. We would like you to salvage as much as you can from the wreck, and clean up the rest.”

So grunt work. That’s fine. Typically Spirit is called for that sort of thing, if there are secrets involved. And when you have priceless artifacts, you don’t want just any random person handling them. Spirit doesn’t think they’re terribly trustworthy, but if someone asks them to be, they can be. Keeping their mouth shut is easy because people don’t usually come to them for conversation.

Macaque told them once that they were awfully chatty, but that was when they were younger. They grew up. They usually only talk to themselves now.

“Okie doke.” They nod, turning back to the wreckage.

This should take them a few days, if they pull a few all nighters. They’re pretty bad at sleeping anyway, so at least this time it’ll be on purpose.

They pointedly don’t think about how they told the Demon Bull Family of the artifact that was here. They pointedly don’t think about how the Demon Bull Family likely attacked this home for said artifact. What people do with the information they give out is none of their business. It’s not their fault.

Well. It is. Spirit isn’t stupid. Actions have consequences. A domino falls and starts a chain reaction. Regardless of intent, the first domino is the issue.

And Spirit pushed the rest of the pieces down, so the aftermath is their fault.

They start with the biggest pieces of the wreckage, moving out broken stone and whatnot, so that salvaging the finer pieces will be easier. They’d ask where they’re supposed to move the large pieces of stone, but the two mortals didn’t seem to like them, so they just bring it to the side of the house. Out of sight for the moment.

They start collecting pieces of broken artifacts, sorting them into different piles for reconstruction later. They cut their fingers a few times and decide to wrap up their hands in gauze to spare the rest of their fingers from mutilation.

While they’re doing that, someone comes up behind them.

“Hi!”

Spirit jumps a full foot in the air and stumbles to regain their footing, nearly slipping on the dusty tile before steadying. The gauze not yet secured sticks haphazardly to their sleeves, and they fidget with it as they turn around fully to see who it is that interrupted them.

It looks to be a girl around their age—a little younger, they think. She’s got the same fine makeup as the two adults who Spirit wagers are her parents, though hers is made less refined in application, instead more youthful and in the form of self expression. Her green varsity jacket fits in line with her parent’s outfit, green and gold, but the rest of her outfit is a bright white only seen in the marble of the home’s interior.

And then there’s the dragon blade, strapped to her back. She seems comfortable with it there, which leads them to believe she’s the new wielder. Which certainly gives her presence weight.

Spirit lowers themselves to appear non threatening and demure, and they wave, awkwardly, before continuing to affix the gauze to their hands.

“Hello,” they reply.

“I’m Long Xiaojiao.” The girl bows politely in response. “But you can call me Mei.”

“Mei,” Spirit repeats, getting used to the word on their tongue, getting over the confusion of someone actually coming up to talk to them when they’re on a job. “I’m, uh, Spirit.”

“Nice to meet you!” She smiles sunnily up at them.

Spirit stands and fidgets, a little, trying to figure out how to respond. They don’t know how to interact with people much. Interacting with Red is easy, they’ve known him for centuries, but with new people, it’s hard. They’re terribly awkward, and they’re a monkey demon with three eyes. It isn’t as if they can have conversations with mortals without that becoming a factor.

In fact.

“You know, I haven’t seen a monkey demon before. Do you know the Monkey King?” she asks.

Spirit winces. “No,” They respond, quietly. “He-uh-from what I hear, he’s kind of a recluse, and I don’t interact with many monkey demons,” Spirit shrugs, trying for a smile.

Mei doesn’t seem perturbed by their lack of knowledge, shrugging nonchalantly right back, and Spirit relaxes a fraction. Like with Pigsy, Mei doesn’t seem to have many expectations on Spirit’s behavior, or requirements of knowledge and or ability. So far, anyway.

Then again, that could be because they know not to expect anything from Spirit. Spirit is well known in the demon world to be as worthless as they are useful, and Mei is from a powerful family that Spirit has done favors for before. The two of them probably knew of Spirit already. That’s why they’re good at knowing that Spirit knows pretty little.

“Yeah, that’s fair. My friend MK’s met him, since he’s his successor, but from what I hear from MK, Monkey King doesn’t talk to a lot of people.” She drops the information down in front of Spirit as if it isn’t a bombshell.

Spirit blinks a few times, trying to process the information. Huh. So, this girl knows the successor. Interesting.

“MK?” they ask, curious.

Information is important. If they perform a favor for Mei, that might get them an in with the successor, which means they’ll have something against the Monkey King and then they can be safe.

“Yup!” Mei whips out her phone, dragon phone case and everything, and shoves the screen up at Spirit, bright light pressing up towards their eyes.

Hand reaching toward their face, reaching digging scraping pain—

Spirit’s back hits the wall. They don’t remember backing up, just like they don’t remember their breaths picking up, nor do they remember starting to shake. Eyes wide, they glance around, until they lock eyes with Mei, whose phone is still held up in the air near where their face used to be.

“Oh,” Spirit murmurs, ears rising up from their previously downturned position. “Sorry.”

Mei drops her arm, brow furrowed in concern.

“I, uh,” Spirit scrambles to explain, because they don’t want her to tell her parents that they’re easily startled, that they’re not good enough, because that could ruin their reputation, that could stop the favor from being kept, it could ruin everything. “I don’t like. Things thrown at my face. Without warning.”

“Oh,” Mei says, softly, gently, glancing at Spirit with something softer and kinder than pity.

“Sorry,” Spirit mutters again, standing up straight.

They shuffle off, getting back to work at getting the many cracked artifacts off of the ground. They don’t usually have visceral reactions like that around other people. The last they can remember is when they were with Red. He’d waved a hand too close and they’d jumped back. He didn’t apologize, because Red hates admitting fault, but he did hover over them for a moment, as they regained their bearings.

Mei scuffs her boot on the tile, and then idles over.

“Nah, I get it,” she waves off the apology, though Spirit does question how she could possibly understand when they never told her why. “Hey, do you have a phone? I could send you the picture!”

Spirit turns to her, glancing down at the earnest smile on Mei’s face.

“I don’t know if my phone takes photos,” they reply, pulling out the brick of technology out of their pocket.

Mei’s face drops in shock at the sight of it, hands jumping up as if to snatch it from Spirit’s grip. They hand it to her instead, because Spirit can tell she wants to hold it, and Mei looks at it like one would the priceless artifacts shattered around the hall.

“This is...ancient,” she says, delicate, like she doesn’t want to insult them. “It doesn’t even show emojis!”

“What’s an emoji?” Spirit asks.

Mei drops her face into her hands and groans, before perking back up.

“Can I upgrade it?” she nearly begs, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Befuddled, Spirit doesn’t immediately agree. Should they? They already made Mei upset because they freaked out, it would be rude to deny her something that brings her joy, even if it could come at the expense of Spirit’s phone.

Even more confusing is that, rather than think them stupid for having an inferior product, Mei just wants to fix it up for them.

“Um,” they start, haltingly. “I like that my phone’s pretty indestructible, and I’ve had it for a while. Aren’t, um, newer phones more fragile?”

“Not when I make them,” comes Mei’s cheeky reply. “I’ll even use the materials from this one as a base! It’ll be the same, just better! And I’ll be able to send you photos!”

She puts on what Spirit can tell are puppy dog eyes, and Spirit caves instantly. Mei needn’t use those on them; Spirit knows they’re a pushover.

“Okay,” they acquiesce.

Mei cheers.

“Perfect! I think I have a charm that will look nice on your phone, too, so I can give you that!” She rocks back and forth on her feet, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

Spirit smiles to themself, setting a collection of pieces on one of the pedestals spared of the destruction. Tonight, they’ll have to get special glue somewhere to make the cracks nearly unnoticeable. There’s a demon marketplace a few miles outside of town, so there will probably be some there.

They walk over to the other side of the hall, glancing over at Mei, who follows them. She fiddles with her phone, and a cursory glance of her screen shows that she’s researching the model of Spirit’s phone for reference. Huh. Spirit didn’t know phones could do that.

Their eyes travel from Mei’s phone to the legendary blade on her back.

“You can wield the Jade Dragon Blade?” they ask, aiming for nonchalant and landing on incredulous. They’re not a good actor.

Instead of puffing out her chest and acting proud, something Spirit would find more characteristic of Mei based on the twenty minutes they’ve spent around her, Mei hunches down a little, looking shy.

“Yeah, I just found out. It’s, uh, pretty cool.” She shuffles her feet, seemingly reluctant to acknowledge her newfound importance. “I was never really, uh, what was expected of by my family, so it’s kind of a surprise that I can use it.”

There’s a lot to unpack there, Spirit knows. High expectations for children of powerful families are to be, well, expected, but it doesn’t mean it’s pleasant. Spirit doesn’t have to see the tired slump of Mei’s shoulders, with the weight of something wearier than just exhaustion, to know that. They’ve known it since they saw the fervor and desperation Red worked, the way he swallowed hurt at dismissal.

It’s a bit sad, they think, that they see it in Mei, too.

“I, uh, I know how to use a bunch of weapons,” They offer off handedly as they continue to work. “I could teach you some things. If you want?”

Macaque taught them to use a wide variety of weapons, before they settled on their combat sickles, so they know how to use general blades. They aren’t a sword master, but they’re sure they could teach Mei the basics.

Mei perks up again.

“Really? That’d be super helpful. I think my parents kind of expect me to already know how to use a sword, since I can wield this one, and if I told them I don’t know they’d get me some stuffy tutor or something,” she rolls her eyes at the idea.

“Once I’m done with this,” Spirit gestures the mess of the entrance hall. “We could meet up somewhere to start? Call it a favor.”

Spirit tries not to seem too excited, but opening up a new line of favors with someone is always a fun experience. A new layer of safety, a new token, even. If they’re lucky, Either way, to have Mei’s name in their book would be awful nice.

Mei opens her mouth to accept, but the hard slap of heeled slippers against the marble floors makes them both freeze.

“Xiaojiao,” comes the cold voice of Mei’s mother. “Spirit is here on a job. Don’t talk to them.”

“But—”

“Either find someplace else to be or stay in your room. Now,” Mei’s mother is unrelenting, eyes sharp.

Mei gives Spirit a commiserating smile, and then bounds down the hall, disappearing around the corner.

Once she’s gone, Mei’s mother turns on Spirit, a snarl on her face. Spirit knows the Long family is one of dragons, but maybe they might have forgotten just how protective dragons are of what is theirs.

“Never,” The voice is a hiss, and Spirit hunches down, curling in on themselves. “Never talk to my daughter. You keep away from her.”

Spirit trembles, and nods. They didn’t want any trouble, really! They just wanted to help. And Mei owing them a favor means they could interact with her without being as scared as they are, in general.

But, then again, they suppose having a reputation like theirs does work against you.

They work until nightfall, managing to get most of the hard work done. There’s still the matter of reconstructing artifacts, which means they need special glue. So they depart late at night to the demon market a few miles out of town.

It’s more a flea market, not exactly as concrete as some of the other shopping centers Spirit has perused. It’s actually kind of new, popping up because now that the Demon Bull Family is up and running, demons are crawling in droves to get a piece of the new economic boom.

They find a stand a half an hour into their walk that has the type of glue they need.

“Oh, well there’s a familiar face,” The shopkeep says when Spirit steps up to the stall.

Spirit tilts their head to the side, but doesn’t comment. “I would like that glue, please,” They practiced saying it a few-fifty-times in their head before stepping up, so they would get it right. They point to the jar they want with a small smile on their face, to be pleasant.

“Alright,” The shopkeep, a fox demon by the ears and swishing tail, takes the jar and wraps it gently.

Spirit reaches into their pocket and pulls out their coin purse, but when they do, the shopkeep laughs.

“No, no, your money is no good here,” The shopkeep says. “Let me return a favor, to you.”

Spirit blinks a few times, but it isn’t a surprise. People try and return favors all the time, as if they could ask for anything of Spirit and then return the favor on their terms. Spirit may do anything for a favor, but they don’t let anyone decide when that favor is returned for a reason.

White splattered red, a smile made dull with crimson spilling over lips. Returning the favor, returning the favor and dying and never coming back and it’s all your fault why didn’t you stop her—

They sigh, stand up straight, and put on the intimidating smile like Macaque taught them to. Wide eyes but with a glow that is more a promise than an effect, and a grin with just enough teeth to show that it’s sharp. It feels weird on their face, but it always works.

“No,” They respond, voice ever quiet. “I’m the one who deals in favors. I make the terms. And I want to pay.”

The marketplace has gone silent. The shopkeep is frozen in place. Spirit smiles.

“A-Alright,” the shopkeep finally says, rattling off the total.

Spirit blinks once, letting the glow in their eyes vanish. Their shoulders fall as they fumble with their coin purse until they pull out the total. The shopkeep hands them the bag, and Spirit waves cheerily, turning around and heading toward the exit of the market.

The demons in the market give them a wide berth, but Spirit prefers that. They like their space.

The whole project for the Long family takes a total of three days, two of which are without sleep. Spirit is used to not sleeping, whether it be from the usual nightmares or a lack of forethought to go to bed, and so they manage. Being without sleep leaves them jittery and off kilter, but Mei has seemingly taken her mother’s warning to heart, and Spirit is undisturbed as they work.

They like reconstructing the artifacts. The heads of the Long family tell them that the family can handle the actual reconstruction of the house, which is a relief considering Spirit knows very little about architecture. Putting artifacts back together is just like putting together a puzzle, and Spirit loves a good puzzle. Gets their brain working.

Macaque had puzzles, but his were always more...violent. Spirit prefers these ones, with the artifacts and without danger.

When they’re done, they’re regarded with distaste but not disappointment, which is nice. Spirit is pretty sure most people they do deals with don’t particularly like them, because no one likes owing people something. That’s not Spirit’s problem though! They always allow people to refuse, but people like convenience, and Spirit is malleable, quiet, unobtrusive, and generally willing to be used as any sort of tool. They’re more an object than a person, on the job, and that’s good! It means Spirit is good at whatever they need to be.

They almost forget that they’ve given Mei their phone, because they’re leaving the property when she shouts their name.

They jump a full foot in the air, turning around.

“Hey!” Mei comes sprinting across the courtyard, skidding to a stop in front of them. “You almost forgot your phone!”

She holds it out, and it looks very little like what Spirit expects. Gone is the black brick of an item, replaced with a wide, reinforced screen. The case is sturdy, black with purple accents. Spirit feels the familiar material in the black sections.

There’s a little purple lotus charm dangling from one corner.

Spirit holds the phone gingerly, almost afraid they might break it. They tap on the screen, and it glows! Spirit taps it a few times, but nothing else happens.

“I have no idea how to use this,” they say, looking over at Mei with wide eyes.

Mei laughs, kind and not at all cruel, which is confusing in and of itself. Spirit half expected her to think them stupid for not knowing. But Mei directs Spirit to a stone bench by a pond in the gardens, and carefully explains how the touch screen works, and how to get into the different apps, like contacts and messages.

“I put my number in there,” Mei says, pointing out her contact. “So that way we can text each other!”

“Oh,” Spirit stares, and then smiles, small and shy and pleased. “That sounds nice.”

How often is it that someone wants to talk to Spirit? How often is it that Spirit is told how to contact someone for fun? For something besides work? They can only recall Red bothering which is somewhat depressing, but it does nothing to stop the swell of elation that makes their hands shake with the desire to move, at the thought of a new friend.

But to flap their hands like that is childish behavior, so they grip their new phone tight instead.

That doesn’t stop their tail from wagging beneath the bench, though.

Once Mei is done teaching them the basics of modern phone technology, she stands, giving them a sheepish grin.

“I should get going. If mom finds me here with you, she’ll get real cranky, again,” She smiles. “Text you later?”

Spirit stands, and their shoulders don’t ache so much. Subconsciously, they feel the wherewithal to stand tall, for the moment, when Mei gives them such a blinding grin.

“Yeah!

They send their first emoji to Red, a little purple heart and the message ‘Red! I just learned what emojis are! I hope you like this one! From, Spirit.’

Red responds with a bunch of flame emojis, and a single red heart back, stuffed between the fires. It makes Spirit giggle. Has Red been sending little fires in every text? It’s certainly on brand, though they feel it might be a little redundant. Maybe it’s his theme?

They get a text from Mei.

‘Hey! I got a race a couple of months from now. Wanna come watch? Call it a favor ;D!’

Spirit rocks back and forth on their feet excitedly.

‘Mei,

Sounds fun! See you then :)

From,

Spirit.’

They add a little purple heart emoji to the end of the text, and receive a barrage of green ones in reply.

Spirit smiles.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #Yin Spirit #kitkat1003 #monkie kid oc #monkie kid mei #monkie kid pigsy

27 notes · View notes

the-lightning-strikes-again · 4 years ago

Note

Lotor seems to have a lot in common with Chloe Bourgeois from Miraculous Ladybug since they both seem to have great potential of getting redeemed, but the writers decided to screw them over and make them all the sudden villan for no reason even though both shows main protagonists have done far more questionable things than them, heck both shows even romantasize the protagonists creepy stalking behavior

Hi, anon. Thanks for the note! I’ve never watched Miraculous Ladybug, so I’m afraid I don’t know too much about a Lotor vs. Chloe comparison? I’m sorry, though, if that show triggered some unhappy memories about VLD!

In terms of protagonists being worse than the villains, I personally struggle with that statement for Voltron? VLD is complicated because the show starts by treating war/battle as a fantasy violence video game. Like, the Galrans are mostly robots or one-dimensional soldiers who are torturing, killing and conquering. So our protagonists are already light-years ahead of that incredibly low baseline. And it’s easy to cheer Team Voltron on when you know they’re just blowing up robots or a pure-evil villain. It’s that whole fantasy violence thing without accountability. Then, the show gets increasingly more complex in terms of the politics, and the costs of war (with Ulaz’s death, for example), and the humanization of the enemy. But in this environment, our protagonists are still a bunch of ill-prepared teenagers running with scissors. Like, the original paladins of Voltron were leaders and rulers with a history of navigating wars and alliances. These paladins? They grew some over the show, yes, but they still had to go from playing a video game and screwing up flight simulators (or living a royal life in peace-time), to handling actual death and collateral damage in an active combat theater. I doubt Galaxy Garrison had training in their curriculum for how 17-year-olds should handle that. And all of the other older authority figures around Team Voltron and Lotor just totally and utterly failed them.

So I think my frustration with Team Voltron has cooled a lot over the years. From an in-show perspective, they were surrounded by supposedly competent advisors and intelligence officers who should have been able to at least question certain decisions or behaviors. But they did nothing constructive to prepare the paladins for war besides training them to kill.

And in the case of s5-s6, all of these experts and allied civilizations gave Team Voltron the green light on an official alliance with an empire they had seen brutally torture/experiment, enslave, and colonize. Actual weeks had passed between s5-s6. And yet, we never saw Kolivan warning the team that this was a really bad compromise for the Voltron Coalition to make; we never saw the paladins having to handle upset questions from their vast allies, who no doubt had recent memories of trauma at the hands of Galran military officers. But the instant Lotor is revealed to have also been a quintessence vampire in some way, like every other Galran officer with a body count they’d allied with, that’s the uncrossable line for Krolia, Coran, Kolivan watching this all go down—? Like?

When Shiro linked the Voltron Coalition to Galran military intelligence, what the heck did they think all of these soldier reports included? Military commanders happily sipping cocktails with locals on a beach? So I don’t think it quite hit the paladins yet that they weren’t working with uwu morally unproblematic people with easily forgivable pasts or a clear record of trying to make up for that past. And Team Voltron had zero guidance for how to navigate pursuing justice/reparations while also not leading to another war or worse outcome. Ultimately, even all of these concerned authority figures forgot about the show’s most plot-important victims that they were fine with dissolving the alliance over.

(RIP Patrulius in the harvesting pod, did you ever get out??).

The incompetency of elder authority figures also feeds into my frustration about Lance’s character, and how it was once again Coran in s8 who pushed him into this weird 1950s dating construct where Allura isn’t an agent over her own body. Like, Lance is still pretty young here, mimicking all the toxic masculinity he’s picked up on, and Coran’s behavior is supposed to be…better. Like, even Lance himself was uncomfortable in that scene, and that was wild to watch.)

And speaking of the ongoing failures of authority in the story, I still can’t believe that Coran didn’t cut in on Lotor in season 5, even, to warn him that exposure to the rift was known to make people lose control over their darkest thoughts. I could plausibly believe Allura didn’t think to question this because she was doe-eyed over Lotor and desperate for anything that could secure peace. But it’s not like Coran, who is supposed to be a king’s advisor, didn’t see this happen with Zarkon and Honerva. He could have questioned Lotor’s plans, and that actually would have been fascinating. Because if Coran, being a king’s advisor, had employed that kind of logical foresight, we might have seen something unsettling in Lotor that could more clearly foreshadow a fatal flaw he wasn’t working on (you know, like that classic Icarus Syndrome). But this show just didn’t question itself or self-reflect, lol.

So I don’t think anything Team Voltron did was them necessarily intending to be cruel where they wanted trillions to die in the name of justice, but their ignorance and the blatant inaction/silence or questionable guidance from anyone with higher credentials or experience resulted in some very uneasy outcomes.

But those outcomes were what this show wanted to keep the drama rolling.

I can’t speak for Chloe’s arc and the reason for why she misses the mark, but Lotor’s fall resulted in another several episodes of big robot battles and extended drama to meet a predetermined 78-episode directive. And given that the production team complained about having no breaks at all through the development of this show, I doubt they had time to weigh the cost of every decision they made to keep drama going. (I mean, we saw several other haphazard, concerning things happen since the beginning of the show; the colony twist wasn’t an isolated incident of plot over-complication and questionable handling of topics a;sdjfasf.)

I do think it’s easy to stay bitter about things and to let that poison everything, including even other shows. And I don’t think that’s a mentally healthy place for me to be—even though, clearly, I do still have frustrations with the art of story construction, lol. So I guess... canon is someone else’s story, but I do have control over how I respond and how I might try to tackle hard topics in my own works. And I’ve got to work with that.

I hope for what it’s worth that you can still find things worth enjoying in your other show, and that you can explore the characters and the stories in ways that are meaningful and feel right to you. It might help as well to look for shows and media that explicitly do have redemption arcs for a main antagonist or villain, or that handle traumatized or abused characters well.

#voltron #vld #lotor #oh god I relapsed and had a vld salt moment #tw salt #but yeah I do think at least VLD had a purpose for making Lotor go crazy but it was a tactical plot-driven reason #as opposed to a character-driven reason #because yeah a lot of characters got really OOC in that a;lsdjfasd

24 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 5 years ago

Text

Coming Home pt. 2

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

PART ONE || TWO || THREE || FOUR || FIVE || FINALE || BONUS

“This place looks nice” Mark said for the third time since we got to Jaehyun’s apartment building

We’re waiting for Jaehyun to answer the door, deciding to drop by early since Mark wanted to see Chae Yoon.

“Hyung can you please hurry up” Mark said through the intercom, the door opening with a Jaehyun wearing a bright red polka-dot apron and a smile

“Why do you look like that?” Mark asked the older one

“I’m cooking breakfast for Chae, hey” he said nodding my way, “She’s up already?” I said as we enter his apartment

Apart from the furniture he needs there weren’t a lot of stuff in his place. The only thing that makes this place look likes it’s Jaehyun’s is the electric keyboard in his living room.

It’s his hobby; he likes to play when he’s not that busy or just to relieve some stress. It was one of the few things he took from our then shared apartment

“Wow hyung, your place looks great”

I chuckled at my younger brother who is happily looking around like a puppy exploring a new place, “He’s been saying that since we rode the elevator” I told Jaehyun making him laugh at the younger one

“It’s okay, you want some pancakes?” he asked us, Mark nodding his head in agreement.

At the same time the baby monitor went off, signalling that Chae woke up

“I’ll go get her” Mark said before neither Jaehyun or I say something

“The door on the left” Jaehyun said with a chuckle, my brother already skipping away

“Is he really in college? He looks like a kid” Jaehyun said from where we has standing, infront of the stove flipping some pancakes

“He’s my baby forever, let him be” I say then sat on the stool by the counter

“You baby proofed the place?” I asked, noticing little details around the room. The electric sockets were covered, sharp corners were covered and no stuff was laying around where Chae Yoon could reach it

“Yea, tried as best as I could. The landlord was planning to give me a bigger place with stairs but I told her I have a baby that just learned how to crawl so it’s a big no no”

“She’s starting to stand up too” I said, making Jaehyun smile a bit

“Don’t remind me, I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad she’s growing up too fast” he answered, setting the cooked pancakes on a plate before putting them infront of me. I took them to the table, while he gathers utensils

“Next thing you know she’s telling us she’s going on a date” I teased him, the smile was replaced with a frown

“She’s not allowed to date until she’s 30” I turned to look at him with a raised brow

“So you’re that kind of parent”

“I mean she can date when she can make a decision for herself and make the right judgements, there that sounds better. But you best believe I will be there on her first date” his statement making me bust out a laugh

“If she’s anything like you then you’d be in trouble”

“I’m not that bad, I’ve dated like one girl. And that was you incase you forget” he said, pointing the spatula at me. I rolled my eyes at him,

“She’ll be breaking hearts left and right”

“I wasn’t like that! what are you talking about?” I can’t help but laugh at his reaction

“Yea right, I can’t even count how many confession you turned down. Do you even remember all those letters they leave in your locker during valentines day” I stated, recalling the old memories

“All those cards and only one says happy birthday”

It was from me, it was no secret that people leave gifts by Jaehyun’s locker every year during valentines. No one just ever left birthday gifts from him.

“You’re welcome” it was now his turn to roll his eyes

“At least tell me you’ll choose a seat four spaces away from Chae and her date” I said, enjoying the conversation we were having

“Three, and they’re sitting on opposite sides”

“What are you two laughing about?” Mark asked from behind us, making us turn to him. Our daughter already reaching out for Jaehyun

“We were talking about Chae going to her first date” I said taking a seat on the table while Mark sat beside me and Jaehyun across from us and Chae Yoon on her high chair

“Does hyung know her little crush over Jeno?” Mark asked no one in particular, I looked over at Jaehyun who has a confused look on his face.

“What crush? She’s a baby, she doesn’t know what that even is” Jaehyun defensively said making me chuckle

“He’s talking about how whenever Jeno is around, her eyes just follows him, quite literally too. One time she swatted Mark away from Jeno” I told him as I cut up the pancake into smaller pieces to give to my daughter

“Maybe she finds him cute, that adorably eye smile and all” Mark mumbled, the frown on Jaehyun’s face getting more prominent

“Stop saying that, you’re going to give Jae wrinkles if he keeps on frowning like that” I pointed to the guy sitting across from us

“I was joking! Kind of, I mean she does look at him like he’s the most fascinating thing” Mark said inbetween chuckles

“Okay enough talks of that, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there” Jaehyun mumbled, pushing a pancake in Mark’s direction to shut him up.

After hanging out at Jaehyun’s place for a couple more hours, Mark needed to go back to university. His friends on their way to pick him up, they all decided to go home for the weekend and carpool together since they’re roommates anyways.

“Nice place hyung, definitely will hang out when I get back” Mark said as Jaehyun walk us out. Chae Yoon in her stroller hugging the bear given by her dad when she was born

“Sure, give me a call when you visit. You already know, call me when you need anything” he said directing the second half of his statement to me.

“Will do, come on you still need to pack” I told Mark, saying my goodbye to Jaehyun.

This has been the set up we’ve been doing for the past five months, Chae Yoon spends the weekends with him when he doesn’t have any work to do. He either drive over to pick her up or I go over to take her.

It’s been a good system for us. If we’re being honest, we did it for the both of us.

It was hard trying to make something work when we both knew we were already on the edge. Jaehyun wasn’t the type to give up, but his actions told me otherwise. That’s how I knew we had to call it off.

I can’t be the selfish one and ask him to stay when he didn’t want to. I knew it was nothing against being a father to Chae Yoon but entirely about being my fiancé. So I made the decision to break it off. It did break my heart, I still have a hard time reminding myself the once promised future of us being together is not there anymore.

But my daughter comes first, above anything. I didn’t have a doubt that he’s trying to be the best father to our daughter, and he is. There is no one in this world that loves her the way Jaehyun does.

The moment she was born in this world he was a goner. The way he cried and said a silent thank you to me when they laid tiny Chae Yoon in his arms, I knew she would have someone to love her for the rest of her life.

I also realized I love Jaehyun too much to tie him down like that, it was always a push and pull with him. Back in our high school years, he was the popular but down to Earth kid. He knew people talked about him, he also knew almost no one was immune to his charms. I took pride in the way his eyes light up when he see me in the crowd or the way he always shoots a salute my way before his game starts or the way he can’t let go of me after a very long tiring day because he needed cuddles or the way he whispered I love you in my ear in the middle of a party just because he felt like saying it.

I’ve seen Jaehyun in lights that no one ever has, I was with him through the ups and downs. I always tried to catch up with him, I just realized now that I probably never will. I also realized how I never ask why he once never asked me if I was keeping up or was I okay with the steps he was hurriedly taking.

I’m not mad.

Deep in my mind I’ve always known I loved him more that he loved me.

After what felt like the longest weekend ever, I was back at the office. Buried in piles of paper work that needed approval and signatures.

“Hey Y/N, the digital artist from Japan is here. You have a meeting with him?” my co-worker, Wendy said. I looked up from the drafts I was currently reading

“Oh he’s here? I thought the design department said they will have an on-boarding meeting with him first?”

“They said they’ll do it after you” she shrugged then passed me the folder

“Okay, I’ll be there give me a minute”

I stood up from my chair and made my way to the meeting room Wendy told me where the new hire was waiting, “Hi, sorry for the wait. I wasn’t expecting you” I told him when I enter the room.

He immediately stood up shaking his head, “It’s fine, I wasn’t waiting long”

“Right well take a seat, the head of our design department recommend you himself so he must trust your work. We’re glad you could make it here”

“Yes, well I actually live here I just visited my hometown for a while. I’m Nakamoto Yuta by the way” he said then extended his hand out which I gladly shook

“Lee Y/N, Taeyong has told me a lot about your work. We’re very happy to have you in our team”

After the meeting, I was back in my desk tied down to a bunch of paperwork.

I do love my job, I have enough time to focus on my daughter and also grow my career. I was lucky to be given this chance and I wasn’t going to let it pass.

After a long a couple of weeks of the same routine: go to work, go home to Chae, take Chae to her dad.

One weekend Jaehyun called that he was on his way up to the apartment, taking Chae back to me after his weekend with her.

“Hey Y/N” He greeted me with a smile when I opened the door,

“Hi”

“and hello to you beautiful girl, how was your weekend?” I said to the excited little lady who was reaching out for me

“She was trying to walk all over the place. I bolted every furniture I had in my apartment just to be safe” Jaehyun answered as he put her stuff in the living room with me following behind him

“Oh right I still need to do that”

“Do you need help? I can come over some time next next week maybe”

“Next next week?” I asked

“I have a business trip to Japan this Friday until Tuesday next week. Too bad I can’t be with her next weekend” he explained, I nodded along completely understanding his work schedule

“By the way is my box of documents still here, I’ve been meaning to get it” he asked, “It’s probably in the office, I haven’t really touched anything there so things are the way you left it” just as I say it an emotion crossed his face, it went quickly as it came. I almost wouldn’t notice if I wasn’t looking at him

“Thanks, can I?” he asked gesturing to the office at the end of the hall “you lived here too, go” I chuckled. He shot me a quick smile before walking in the direction of his old home office.

I was playing with Chae Yoon when I hear Jaehyun call out my name

“What is it? You didn’t find it?” I asked him when he walked back to the living room

“I did, I was just going to say we have this company party tomorrow. I know it’s very short notice and it’s a Monday but if it’s okay with you, will you come with me?” he asked, eyes staring straight into mine

“Me?” I asked back, I sounded stupid I know but I was just confused why he wanted me to come with him

“Yes, you” he said with a small smile on, a dimple showing slightly. I almost agreed then and there.

“Why?” I asked sceptically

“Well who else would I ask? I mean you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, I absolutely understand. And I know you can’t leave Chae-“

“I’ll come”

Even I was surprised by my answer, he looked like he was too.

“Okay, that’s great. I’ll come pick you up at six?”

“Sure”

We both didn’t know where the conversation was going, but suddenly Jaehyun looked behind me. I thought something bad happened but when I turned Chae Yoon was standing up by herself, about to take her very first steps

“Oh my god, Jae” I whispered, careful not to scare her

“That’s it baby girl, want to walk here?” Jaehyun calmly told our daughter, kneeling beside me so he could look at her eye to eye

A determined look was etched on Chae Yoon’s face, she put up one foot infront of the other. Still a bit wobbly

“Careful there” I mumbled, feeling a bit anxious. Jaehyun must have sensed it because he shot me an assuring smile before looking at our daughter again

“She’s fine, she can do it. Right, baby?” she squealed then suddenly took many steps straight to where Jaehyun was. She stumbled a bit but Jae had his arms waiting for her ready to catch her if she falls.

The little laughter’s she was letting out was worth everything.

“You did it!” I told her, giving her cheek a little squish. The proudest look on my face, I didn’t notice Jaehyun was just staring at me

When our eyes met, a small smile was on his lips

“Thank you” he whispered.

I didn’t need an explanation, I already knew what he was saying thank you for.

It was for this little girl who had become the center of both our universe the moment we knew of her existence. The late night drives to the convenient stores when I was craving something, the early morning sickness and terrible nausea, the sudden outburst of tears I had because of hormones, the back pains, the tears, all of that was worth it.

We had a silent agreement, even after all of the things we went through we would gladly do it again if it means we’ll end up in this moment right here.

Chae Yoon was, is and forever will be worth all of it.

“Oooh how about this dress?” Wendy asked while holding out a yellow flowy dress

“It’s a company dinner, not a picnic. Cute dress though” I said then continued to browse through my closet

“I know, can I borrow this?” chuckling at her question I looked around the row of clothes in front of me

“Maybe I should just cancel, I don’t have anything to wear”

“You’re standing in the middle of your walk-in closet, what are you talking about?”

Okay maybe I was just looking for an excuse not to come. After thinking about it all night, it just dawned on me now that this will be the first event Jae and I will be attending since we broke up.

I tried so hard to get some sleep but my mind wouldn’t shut up.

Also Chae Yoon decided to wake up at 5am, I didn’t have the time to put her back to sleep before I needed to go to the office.

And now I’m here, I asked Wendy for some help to pick out my clothes and look after Chae Yoon while I get ready

“Chae Yoon-ah, look at your mommy getting all nervous about her date with your dad” she told the baby playing with her blocks on the carpeted floor

“It’s not a date”

“He asked you to be his date, Y/N” she deadpanned, I was trying to think of an excuse but she had be backed up on a corner with her statement

“Not to sound rude, but why did he ask you?”

“I asked him the same thing” I mumbled, picking out a long fitted dress with straps and a slit on the leg

“How about this one?” I asked holding out the dress to show her

“Yes that one, perfect. So back to my question”

I sighed, putting the dress on the lounge chair, picking out shoes to match with the dress

“He didn’t say why, he just said why not”

“That’s a lame answer” she muttered, making faces at Chae Yoon. The little one giggled, holding her hands to her face.

“It’s just a friendly invitation, he didn’t have anyone to ask that’s probably why”

“Are you two sure you’re done?”

Her question made me stop on my spot, for a moment I wasn’t sure.

“Of course. We’ve talked about it. He moved out”

“That’s not what I mean though, yes he moved out and yes you literally called the engagement off so why are you two acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Are you serious? Like you two are still together, Y/N. The getting him dinner, driving you home, asking you to be his date”

“He’s Chae’s father. I can’t just completely erase him from my life, whether we mean it or not we’ll always be in each other’s life so we could be there for her”

“I know that, and you two are doing such a great job at being her parents. But it’s not your job to care for him anymore”

“I can’t just stop caring about him”

“You can’t but you don’t have to give so much to him when you don’t have to anymore. I love you I really do, but don’t you think it’s about time to live a life that didn’t revolve around him?”

I knew she had a point, what was the use of being broken up when we still do things like this. In my mind I keep repeating that I’m doing this as a friend.

But I don’t really know how to be just his friend.

“I don’t mean to pry in your business, I just want you to be happy and guard your heart”

I shot her a grateful smile, fully understanding that she meant well.

Her words where ringing in my head for the rest of the night, even after Wendy bid goodbye after helping me get ready.

I was just reading a book to Chae when the door bell rang, “Looks like you have a visitor, little lady” I mumbled, putting her down. She immediately stood up and tried to walk to the door on her own. Of course I was close behind her, ready to catch her just in case.

I opened the door, I swear I doesn’t matter how long I’ve known Jaehyun because he can still steal my breath away.

He looked good, wearing an all black suit with a white dress shirt. His hair did differently from its everyday style. And of course his most attractive accessory couldn’t be forgotten, his smile.

“Hey” he said when I opened the door, he looked down at the baby who is now holding onto his leg

“Hey you, are causing trouble running around like that?” he playfully asked Chae then took her in his arms peppering kisses all over her face.

“I think I have to put cushions all over the house at this point, come in” I told him, holding the door open for him

“I have a few more of those covers you can put on corners of table and stuff like that, I’ll bring it over when I get back”

“Thanks, I’ll just get her bag so we can leave” I was leaving her to my neighbor while we go to the party. I packed an over night bag just in case I stay out too late, and in case of any emergency

We walked over the apartment across from mine, waiting for Unnie to open the door

“Is that Chae Yoonie?” she called out from the other side of the door before opening it

“Hi- Oh hi Jaehyun, I haven’t seen you in a while” she said when she saw it was Jaehyun holding Chae Yoon

“Nice to see you too, Noona. You sure you can handle her, she can walk now” he jokingly said

“I heard! I’m so excited to see her run around, and you already know I love having her around. Don’t worry about it, go enjoy your night” She said with a smile on

“Here, all of her stuff is in there. Can’t forget about her favorite bear” I said while handing over her the bag and Chae’s favorite stuffed toy

“You’ll be good for Unnie, right Chae? I’ll see you later” I told my daughter giving her a quick kiss. Jaehyun did the same before passing her to Unnie.

“You two have fun, okay? Bye” we bid goodbye then made our way to the elevator

We didn’t say much, a comfortable silence while we make our way to his car.

“Thanks by the way, for coming tonight” he said when we started to exit the parking area and out into the streets

“No problem” I answered,a small smile on my face.

“You look great, by the way” I just chuckled at his statement, already seeing the redness starting to show on his ears. One thing he can never hide.

“Thank you, I see you decided to go with the bangs up hairstyle”

“The what?”

“You know, that hairstyle. The I’m the boss here kind of hairstyle” I said pointing at his styled hair, he was just smiling at me. probably finding my statement weird,

“Oh yea? Do I look cute?” he asked making me roll my eyes

“You’re a dork” i muttered, making him laugh out loud

“I’ll take that as a yes” he said then we were back to the comfortable silence.

In that moment I realized just what Wendy meant when she asked me are we really done being together

This night so far is not helping me clarify the blurred questions I’ve been thinking about.

I just knew I was in it for a long night.

290 notes · View notes

bonkusdonkus · 4 years ago

Text

So I’ve been thinkin’, Just how far does the whole Kenku mimicry thing go? Obviously they can copy any sound they hear, but what if it applied to other things too?

Crows and ravens in the wild have been observed copying human behavior before, a particular story I remember hearing was were a bunch of urban crows started putting garbage into garbage cans because that’s what they saw humans do. And Kenku aren’t just crafty animals, they’re people, with fully developed brains and everything, imagine all the crazy things they could pick up by watching others.

Like, what about a Kenku Wizard who worked as an errand boy or a janitor at a Wizarding academy? They don’t have any official training, but they learned magic by watching all the wizards and aspiring apprentices practice the arcane arts. While they’re academic employers explored the ins and outs of cosmic power, they observed, fascinated and intrigued by the impossible wonders and esoteric knowledge that surrounded them, until, eventually, they pick some of it up themselves.

Or what about a bard who used to work at a popular tavern or ale house? Places like that are a hot spot for performers and entertainers of all kinds looking for a willing audience or a few quick gold pieces. Maybe our aspiring birb bard spent their nights watching the performances of traveling musicians in awe, eagerly absorbing how they plucked the strings of a lute, and how they danced and bounced around as they belted out a lively drinking tune, in hopes of one day bringing music to the masses themselves.

One time, I came up with the idea for a Kenku monk in a more modern setting. He was a lonely orphan child who grew up in an orphanage run by nuns of a religious order who ah, weren’t too fond of Kenku. (It was the whole cursed by a forgotten god thing, they saw Kenku as born blasphemers, in case you were wondering why.)

As a result, he didn’t really have any friends or support growing up. The only comfort he had, was television. The orphanage had a beat up old tv, one of those big blocky ones with a built in vcr player. The nuns weren’t really interested cable or satellite, so the tv only had three channels on it: a news channel, a public broadcast channel,(you know, like pbs?) and a kids channel that showed cartoons and stuff.

Obviously the main draw of this channel was the cartoons during the afternoon, and that’s what the other kids watched. Our sad birb boy though didn’t usually get to watch cartoons because either the other kids would drive him off, or the nuns would accuse him of bothering the other children. But, as it turns out, the kids channel had decided to fill the late night with reruns of old sentai shows. (Think Power Rangers and Kamen Rider type stuff.)

And so every night, when everyone else had gone to bed, sad birb would creep down to the tv room, and watch brightly clad heroes punch bad guys while striking ridiculous poses and prattling on about justice and friendship.

To most people, shows like this would a fun distraction at best, and ridiculously silly at worst, but to a lonely, shy orphan? It was practically the Bible to him. He was enthralled by these stories of heroes who fought against impossible odds, they gave him hope that maybe he could be more than just the kid nobody wanted. And so as he watched, he absorbed the fighting style of the actors on screen, translating their fake, choreographed style into a real martial arts, all in hopes that one day, he could be a hero too.

What I’m trying to say with all this is that I think that if you push it far enough, you can get some pretty cool role playing or backstory ideas out of the whole Kenku mimicry thing. I mean it makes sense that they’d be able to do stuff like this, copying people is kinda their thing. If I recall correctly, there was a whole thing in Volo’s guide about how Kenku make excellent forgers. And given the it was phrased, I assume that they ment that they were forging thing things by hand. By. Freaking. Hand.

Do you know how hard it is to make a convincing forgery by hand? The attention to detail and precision it takes copy every last tiny mistake, detail, oddity, and flaw in another person’s handwriting or craftwork without the aid of some kind of machine or something is INSANE. If they can just do that kind of thing on the fly, what’s stopping them from applying from that ability to things like magic or fighting styles?

#dnd #kenku #dnd 5e #dnd character concept #mimicry

34 notes · View notes

athenril-of-kirkwall · 4 years ago

Text

More Solavellan smut, because you all love it, babe!

Solavellan, “Healthy Disagreements” (AO3) [Explicit]

Solas was in his study, set on the lowest floor of the library rotunda that was adjacent to the main hall in Skyhold, poring over some sketches he’d made of the frescoes he’d observed at that lost temple of Dirthamen which he, Rivka, and the others had explored not a week past following his research into the glyphs they’d found amongst scattered ruins in the Exalted Plains whilst they were clearing out the Freemen there.

He in particular was fascinated by the fact that many of the murals had in fact been not of Dirthamen but of Falon’Din, that guardian and friend of the dead. He let himself have a smirk, marvelling that the old secret-keeper would choose to hide himself behind another’s guise, even unto the very end…and beyond. He looked over their form and design carefully, looking for any variations from what he knew Falon’Din normally looked like to see if the God of Secrets’ handiwork was visible.

Casting a gaze at the oil lamp on his table, he idly wondered how long he’d been at work. Certainly it was long past the time where more sensible men retired to their quarters. But then again, he hardly felt like dreaming tonight, and Rivka had assured him, in fact multiple times, that neither he nor she would be needed for much important the next day.

So focused was he upon his task that he barely noticed her coming in, only glancing up to acknowledge Rivka’s presence as he heard the door closing behind her.

Looking back down at his sketches, he said, “Evening, vhenan. Or is it morning? I hadn’t thought you’d be up at this unearthly hour, to be quite honest. I…”

Slamming her palms on the table, Rivka violently interrupted him, saying, “It’s an hour past midnight, Solas, and I well know that because I’ve been sitting around for a full hour in my room waiting for you to come up.”

Barely even reacting to the jolt which had shaken his desk and merely noting that the oil lamp hadn’t been upset, Solas said, giving a cursory look to Rivka, “Ah, yes! Pardon me, vhenan, but I was so caught on a detail I found in my last sketch that—”

“Dread Wolf take your sketches and your murals!”, Rivka shouted, yanking them off the desk and scattering them on the floor, where they gently fluttered to land around her slippered feet. “And the least you could do is look at me when you talk to me, as well!”

Having no choice but to do so, Solas turned his gaze upwards at Rivka, noting that her usually coiffed hair was now hanging in strands around her face, and that she didn’t seem to be wearing much beyond a silken robe with a Chantry insignia on it and her slippers.

Finally, he asked, “Forgive me, Rivka. Is there something I have done to warrant…”

“I don’t think I will, and I think you have, or more accurately haven’t, Solas,” she scolded. “When I ask you to come up to my quarters for a…private meeting…I expect you to at least tell me if you’re not going to beforehand instead of wasting my time.”

Looking more closely at her, Solas noted that despite the chill of the night and her rather scant attire, she was flushed partly with anger and partly with…something else.

Comprehending some of the subtext, he said, “I am truly sorry, Rivka. I must still have failed to grasp your meaning when you did say that, and I swear that I was far too engrossed with my work to note the passing of the hour.”

Walking around the table to draw herself up to him, Rivka said, “I’m not going to accept your apology, and I’m certainly not going to say sorry for knocking all your precious drawings to the floor either, seeing as you clearly care about them far more than you do me. So, are you going to do something about that?”

“Whatever do you mean?”, he asked innocently.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Creators help me if you truly don’t get it, and may they help you if you’re just playing dumb. This is what I mean.”

Demonstrating her intent, she reached out for the back of Solas’ neck and head and pinned her lips to his, forcefully kissing him repeatedly and breaking away only to catch a breath.

“There,” she said. “That’s what I was expecting a full hour ago, in the comfort of my own room, and not in the chilly recesses of—”

She never finished her sentence as he now took the initiative, forcing her to seat upon the now-empty desk as he took his turn to land his own kisses upon her. Before she could lay back upon it or adjust her position, he grasped his beloved by her arms, his own eyes flashing lustfully.

“I think I am about to ‘do something about it’, as you’ve so nicely put it,” he hissed. “But before that, a word?”

“A word?”, Rivka asked, essentially thinking aloud before realising what he meant. “‘Ocularum’, then.”

His question was silently asked by the raise of an eyebrow.

“It’s the least sexy thing I know,” she explained. “Now, I suppose you’re going to take your anger out on me for scattering your beloved sketches?”

Answering her in husky breaths, he said, “And more. It’s remarkable—and distressing for your people as a whole—that you lived your entire life in a clan with essentially a dozen mothers and fathers and none of them taught you any manners.”

“Manners?”

“What sort of person petulantly storms into another’s study and throws their work to the ground when they think they’re not being given enough attention?”, he asked. “Imagine the insolence were you to do that anywhere else, to anyone else!”

Locking her gaze into his, she breathily said, “Ooh, say ‘insolence’ again, Solas. I like the sound of the word on your lips.”

“Amongst so many things about them. Time to work this insolence out of your system then, vhenan,” he growled, next commanding, “Turn around.”

Looking at Solas with a blank expression, Rivka saw his turn from impatience to offence.

“Did you not hear me, Rivka?”, he said. “Turn around and put your hands on the table. If I have to ask again I can’t promise you I’ll do so patiently.”

Nodding meekly, she turned to face the table and gently placed her palms on the tabletop. With a sudden jerk, one hand on the small of her back and another at her nape, Solas forced her down on the table, her nipples squashing against her breasts as her cheek firmly landed on it too. The bottom of her robe hiked up a little as she bent forward, and she felt a chill draught around her thighs, shivering as she did so.

Solas then glided along the insides of her legs with his knuckles, curving away from her quim to round her buttocks as he gathered the loose end of her robe, bunching its folds and gathering them around her waist, exposing her to the elements and noting with some amusement that firstly, she had indeed not been wearing anything under that robe, and next that she was already slick with anticipation.

Rivka gasped as he spread her arousal along the length of her folds with his fingertips, moaning as the momentary contact faded just as soon as he’d made it.

“Shush,” he said. “This is meant to be a reprimand, not an outlet for your lasciviousness. Lie still whilst I administer some corrections.”

“Corrections?” was all she was able to manage as she thought about what he meant before she felt the sudden sting of his palm on her buttock, releasing a loud groan of pleasure as its coursed through her body.

“Enough!”, he cried, smacking the other one in an attempt to silence her but only making her moan even louder, alternating between the two savagely.

Gasping shallowly, Rivka felt her slick running down her thigh, glancing upwards and hoping nobody was watching or hearing this depraved scene.

“You really are something else,” he said, “Wantonly crying out so that everybody in this rotunda can hear your arousal. I wonder if…”

She’d barely even started pondering his trailed-off sentence before the next slap struck her full on her lips, causing her to quiver in pleasure, with the next one and the following one after that making her buck against the empty air where Solas’ palm had been, and she felt herself on the brink of coming when he reached out and grabbed her entire mound with his hand, closing her lips against each other.

What pleasure there was turned to pain as he gripped it tighter, the force of his fingertips overriding any urge or ability for her to come there and then, and she felt tears from both agony and joy run down her face as he leant over her back, whispering into her ear.

“Don’t presume to come now, not without permission. Do so and I’ll leave your hands bound to this table and bring you to the edge of orgasm again and again, unable to relieve yourself until I decide you’re worthy of doing so,” he promised, asking, “Do you understand me, vhenan?”

She nodded as best she could, her cheek scraping a little as she did so against the table.

“Good,” he said, seemingly satisfied with that. After some silence, she heard some noises behind her, like cloth falling from a place, then the sound of Solas’ footsteps again.

“I do wonder now,” she heard him ponder, “If you’ve ever given this over to anyone.”

At this, she felt what had to be the tip of his phallus briefly touch…briefly touch her rear end? No! Not there! She shook violently against the notion, feeling fresh tears run down her face as she did so.

“Shush,” he said gently. “Calm yourself. I was merely asking. And…here?”

Warmth pulsed through her body as he made contact with her pussy, and she nodded enthusiastically, biting her lip to restrain herself from moaning lustfully at the touch’s promise.

Her self-control was brought to the edge of her limits as she felt his tip slide in whilst his thumbs sought out the little dimples on the back of her waistline and his fingers grasped the skin around her hips, rolling the flesh of her curves between them. Just as she sensed all those touches on her skin, his shaft fully slid into her, Rivka groaning as he did so, with his grip on her hips tightening as he pumped in and out of her body.

Although not quite as long and as…girthy…as she’d imagined or fantasised, it was hitting all the right spots, the head in particular coming to rest against a tight bundle of nerves that caused her to gasp as he slowly, agonisingly, massaged it with his cock. She tried to work her pussy around him to stimulate that spot, but that was only met with anger, as he withdrew his penis entirely, leaving her aching for him to thrust it in again.

“Are simple instructions beyond you, Rivka?”, he hissed, reaching for her wrists one at a time and pinning them to the small of her back with one hand as he slid back into her, stating, “I’ll be taking my pleasure first before you’re allowed to do anything. Understood?”

She nodded again, trying to relax and stand still despite the myriad of sensations coursing through her as he resumed fucking her over his worktable, the obscene sounds of slapping skin echoing through the tower. His pace, steady at first, became more and more fervent, only slowing down long enough for him to lean over to her ear again, shifting his body weight on her wrists as his grip tightened to a vice.

“I think I’m about to reach…that point,” he growled, asking, “Are you ready as well?”

She nodded, and started quivering and trembling impatiently under and around him as the wait for the promise in his words dragged on, until he reached under her chin with his free hand, tilting her head up at him so he could make sure she saw his stern glare. Rivka slowed her breath, exhaling fully as she attempted to calm down. As Solas released her chin, she also felt his grip around her wrists vanish.

“Hands on the table again, vhenan,” Solas ordered, further commanding, “Let’s not have any distractions, shall we?”

Grasping her hips again, he ploughed into her savagely, grunting and groaning in ancient elvhen as he brought himself to his climax, flushing her insides with his release. Rivka heard his voice, as though from a vast distance, saying, “Now, vhenan. Be with me here and now.”

The floodgates tore open there and then, as she screamed to the high heavens, her palms digging into the table as she ignored the last of his commands, slamming her rear into his hips to drive herself over the top, feeling her own fluids flood her pussy, mixing with his as they dripped out of her and along her thighs, trickling downwards to stain her slippers and, ultimately, the floor of Solas’ study.

Rivka flopped bonelessly onto the surface of his desk, breathing hard and quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm, even as she felt him withdraw at last, the final strands connecting the two breaking in the middle and falling upon the ground.

Long moments passed before, in the blink of an eye, she found herself transported back into her own bed, all offending fluids cleaned up, and naked under her sheets. Rivka gasped, sitting up and turning around to find Solas next to her under the bedcovers, also similarly undressed.

Smiling, he asked her, “Was that everything you expected it to be?”

Her cheeks flushed, Rivka nodded wordlessly as she slowly regained her composure, finally managing to answer, “Yes. I…didn’t know if it’d all work out but…you were so commanding, and it felt so right.”

“I’m glad you appreciated it,” he said, asking, “Although I do wonder if all of your fantasies are this…vivid?”

“What do you mean?”, she asked, it apparently being her turn.

“Simply that there are few whom I have known or met would so willingly…let themselves be used, as such,” he said.

Rivka asked in equal parts hesitance and defensiveness, “You’re not judging me, are you?”

“Not in the least,” Solas answered quickly. “I just was curious as to whether your own romances in the physical world ever took such turns as our times together here have.”

She shook her head, explaining, “No, the last time I was…with someone…was shortly before the Conclave. We’d both been dispatched by our clan to attend the Conclave, and we both knew it’d be the last time we’d see each other for a while, if at all. He was a nice lad, and we spent the night beforehand gently and tenderly.”

“I see,” he said, then coming to a realisation. “If you were both at the Conclave then…”

Rivka nodded her head slowly and sadly, confirming his deductions. “Ismael didn’t make it. Neither did his brother Esaias.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Solas said. “Forgive me for dredging that pain up again.”

She now shook her head curtly. “It’s alright. It hurts less nowadays. But you’re right, I think. I’m only this…adventurous…in the Fade. I don’t know if it’s the Fade itself inducing this, or…”

“…your thoughts about me?”, he asked.

“You know me too well,” Rivka said with a laugh. “Still, thanks for bringing me somewhere warmer and cozier after all of that. Have we time to just…lie here a while?”

Solas smiled, saying, “We have all the time we want or need, vhenan. Come over here.”

Taking him up on his invitation, Rivka slid down the bed and rolled over until she was close enough to put her arms around him, and him hers, burying her face in her shoulder and relaxing into his body as the minutes before the sunrise, and the inevitable return to their responsibilities in the daytime, slowed to eternity.

@dadrunkwriting

#rivka lavellan #Solas #solavellan #f!lavellan/Solas #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #aether effect #smut #ao3 #prompt fic #fanfic #athenril-of-kirkwall #dadrunkwriting #da drunk writing circle

21 notes · View notes