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bananadrinkxxx · 1 year

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THE BLOOD CROWN

PART 16

[Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction ]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

[warnings: smut, sex content, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

Content for adults.

Previous and next chapters: click here

The castle had been in great turmoil when it became known that Lucerys Velaryon had managed to escape.

But no one believed that he had done it alone. They suspected that he had received help, and this help they suspected among them. The other servants looked at Rose suspiciously, knowing that she had been alone with Lucerys several times. They did not say it openly, but Rose was not blind and deaf. She saw them glances and heard them whispering behind her. Aemond had raved when he had received the news. He had not given her another glance as he stormed out of his chambers.

Rose also suspected that someone had helped him. There was no way to escape.

Rose watched as the guards searched the servants' quarters for clues and evidence as to who had freed Lucerys Velaryon from his room.

They knew no mercy. Every man, woman, and even child was taken for questioning. Although she was innocent and had no idea who had freed the prince, she was afraid of what they would do to her if they found her guilty. She had been alone with him several times. Would they believe her words?

Suddenly Rose felt a grip around her arm and was whirled around. She looked into the eyes of Ser Criston Cole, who was looking at her seriously.

"You forgot someone," the knight said loudly, and Rose saw out of the corner of her eye one of the guards approaching, ready to take her away.

"That won't be necessary."

All eyes turned to Aemond only walking quickly toward them. His gaze locked on Ser Criston's hand, which Rose still clutched. His grip was hard and unyielding, as if he feared she would run loose if he let go.

"My prince, all servants must be interrogated," Criston objected, and Aemond raised an eyebrow.

"Not her, so let her go."

"The king-"

"The king is not in charge of the investigation, I am, and you will do as I command, understand?," Aemond came closer. His look was deadly serious. "Unless you refuse to follow my orders?"

Rose got goose bumps all over her body. She looked to Cole who swallowed and looked down at her hesitantly, as if he was actually considering resisting before letting her go, but not without shoving her forward slightly first. It did not go unnoticed by Aemond, and he took another step toward the man. The prince was taller than Criston, which is why he looked down on him.

"Don't challenge me, Cole. I am in an unspeakably negative mood at the moment. I would regret having to take it out on you."

Ser Criston narrowed his eyes and looked at the ground.

"Forgive me, my prince. I have forgotten myself. Last night was fraught for me as well."

Aemond surveyed the knight for a moment before he snorted and he let his gaze continue to wander to Rose. Rose thought he was going to say something to her, take her with him, but instead of responding to her further, he turned and left her behind.

Rose looked after the young man and she felt a stab in her heart. She had hoped for tenderness, for some kind of affection that would show her that he thought of her as she thought of him, but since Lucerys escape, Aemond seemed changed. Cold and dismissive. She understood that he had a lot to do, that there were more important things than her desires, but still she could not completely suppress the feeling of sadness inside her. Just like the feeling of guilt that had flowed through her right after she had breathed a sigh of relief when she had heard about Lucerys escape.

T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Rhaenyra had been asleep when she was roused from her sleep by her guards.

She didn't find much sleep these days and when she did, it was only plagued by nightmares and fears. When she opened her eyes, she looked directly into those of her lord husband, who was also immediately awake. Daemon stood up, dressed only in a linen shirt, and opened the door.

Ser Erryk bowed.

"We have sighted a foreign boat. It is heading for the island, my prince."

Daemon didn't hesitate long, he pulled on his pants and boots and reached for his sword. He took one last look at Rhaenyra before running out the door. They were not expecting anyone. Whoever it was probably didn't have good intentions. Rhaenyra didn't care that her hair was messy or that she was only wearing a nightgown. She put on her cloak and followed Daemon, accompanied by Ser Erryk, who did not leave her side.

Daemon was already out of the castle, but before he slipped out of her sight, Rhaenyra suddenly perceived a petite figure. It was dark and the light from the torches was not bright enough. Daemon stopped, with more men behind him. Rhaenyra walked a few steps further, but continued to be behind Daemon and the king's guard, who were ready to draw their swords at any moment.

The figure stepped closer and closer until it suddenly looked familiar to Rhaenyra. The face became sharper by the second, and when she realized who was approaching, a stunned cry escaped her throat before she forgot everyone around her and started running.

She ran as fast as she could. She didn't care if her feet bored into her flesh from the hard little stones beneath her inner surface and left unpleasant marks. Rhaenyra weaved past Daemon, spreading her arms and wrapping the intruder tightly in her arms. She felt her body being embraced as well.

"Mother," a boy's voice called out in relief, and Rhaenyra pressed him even tighter against her body.

"Luke, my boy, you have returned, you have returned to me," she cried into her son's dirty hair. She held her little boy in her arms, something she no longer thought possible.

Lucerys Velaryon had returned to Dragonstone.

Back to his mother, back to his family.

She loosened the embrace, only to take his face in her trembling hands and look at her son. He was unharmed, thin and deep shadows lay under his eyes, but he appeared unharmed for the first moment.

"I thank the gods, you're back. Are you hurt? I'm so sorry, my love. I'm so sorry," she pleaded and Lucerys shook his head and smiled at her. His hands touched hers and pressed her tighter against him. "I was going to come get you. I wouldn't have let you. I wouldn't have let it happen, ever."

They were reunited.

"I'm fine, Mother," Lucerys confirmed, disengaging himself slightly. Physically, but mentally, this experience had left something on him. He had known that the Greens were not well-disposed toward them. He had known that they didn't want his mother to have the throne and that they started rumors about him and his siblings, talking about them as bastards, always careful not to attribute it to them, in order to steal the throne from his mother, but he hadn't expected this hatred that he had experienced.

War was inevitable. Neither side would give up.

"I'm back."

"You're back," Rhaenyra repeated, smiling. Happiness was written all over her face.

Her son, thought dead, had returned. Into her arms and she would not let him go again. Never again.

Then she felt the wetness that had passed through Lucerys clothes and she rubbed her son's body to warm him.

"Let's go inside. You need to warm up, you need new clothes."

Lucerys nodded and followed his mother. Their hands wedged together and neither of them let go.

Lucerys' eyes met Daemon's, who looked at him with relief. His stepfather's hand placed itself on his brown hair and he pressed it to his body, pulling him into a hug that Lucerys returned.

"I owe you my life, Daemon," Lucerys said, and he saw his mother look at her consort in surprise. Didn't she know what Daemon had done to free him?

"We are family," Daemon replied, nodding at him. Lucerys smiled and then looked at his mother. He didn't think he would ever see her beautiful face again. That he would ever look into her shining eyes. His perfect mother. Happiness overwhelmed him. He had finished with his life, he had been ready to die, but now he was standing here again, at his mother's side, ready to do anything for her to get justice. He had lost his dragon, his poor innocent dragon, but he would not be useless. His time in the Red Keep had robbed him of his childishness and he would answer with fire and blood.

"Mother, I have much to tell you."

T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Rose turned around when she heard another murmur behind her. Two women looked down at her dismissively before noticing her gaze and turning around.

"Ignore the stupid geese," Dyana said, handing her a piece of cheese. Rose looked at her in surprise. "The chef likes me."

"I think it's more than just 'like,'" Rose joked, and Dyana blushed.

"I have no interest in these-," she faltered briefly. "Things," she added softly. A feeling of pity ran through Rose. She knew by now what had happened between her friend and Aegon. That sort of thing spread quickly through the castle. Dyana had never talked about it, but she didn't need to. Rose had watched how she hid when the king was around, how she looked down when they talked about him, and how she avoided any kind of task when dealing with him.

"How are the children?" asked Dyana gloomily, trying to start a new topic. She had previously been the nanny of Helaena's and Aegon's children.

"The twins are very withdrawn and cry often, but Prince Maelor seems unchanged. The assumption is that he hasn't understood much. He is very young."

Dyana nodded. A shadow stretched across her face. She looked dejected, but Rose blamed it on her relationship with the children. As a former nanny, the children meant something to her.

"And... and the Queen?"

Helaena was another matter. She did not leave her chambers, did not eat and only cried. Guilt was eating her up and no one seemed to be able to help her. Although her children had survived and no one had been hurt, she had condemned one of her children to death. She would blame herself forever, even though she had no choice.

"She was always so kind," Dyana told me in a trembling voice after listening to Rose's words. She looked dejected. Rose looked for something comforting, but before she could say anything, Dyana jumped up and took her leave. Rose looked after her in surprise, the cheese Dyana had brought them was still lying completely untouched on her cloth.

. . . . . .

Aegon Targaryen gave a feast in honor of his children. Rose thought it was unwise and naive, especially since it was not known if there were more attackers who were after the lives of the royal family, but she seemed to be the only one. Everyone seemed pleased that the investigation was over. At least the ones that were deemed innocent. Rose didn't want to think about the innocent souls in the abandoned cold dungeons.

She could remember it clearly as if it was yesterday.

Rose helped with the preparations and had been assigned as cupbearer for the evening. The hall was filled with various nobles, they had all come to honor the children of Aegon II. Targaryen in honor, sharing their happiness and relief that the attack had failed.

When Aegon, followed by the Queen Mother Alicent and his hand and grandsire Otto Hightower entered the hall, all voices fell silent. The servants took their places and all eyes were fixed on the king, who was looking seriously around the hall.

"As king, it is my duty to protect this kingdom from enemies and attacks. But this time, this attack was on innocent children, my children, and my beloved wife, your queen. They tried to weaken me and thus attacked not only me as a loving father but also as a king. An attack on the king is therefore also an attack on this kingdom. I promise you that this attack will not remain unanswered, but today I would like to share my happiness with you, the happiness that my family survived this attack unharmed," Aegon said and everyone listened to his voice.

But even though his children and wife survived, Rose would never forget the look of horror in their eyes.

"Let's celebrate so that we don't forget that we are alive and that every moment should be special. But before we celebrate, I would like to thank the heroes and honored guests of the evening," Aegon called out, pointing to his brothers. Daeron smiled at his brother and shook his head sheepishly, while Aemond didn't bat an eye. Rose had not noticed how they had entered. Daeron was dressed in green, while Aemond was completely cloaked in black.

"Aemond and Daeron Targaryen, we celebrate in your honor. The crown is forever in your debt. A toast," Aegon said, and everyone raised their cups. "To my brothers. The heroes of the realm."

"The heroes of the realm," the guests repeated, drinking from their cups before applauding. Then Aegon ordered music to be played and violins as well as drums began to fill the throne room with joyful music.

The servants were given the signal to serve the delicacies. Roasted pigs, delicious sauces, various specialties, including desserts and soups were served and the court jesters did not let them wait long. They were jumping around, doing somersaults and giving advice while the guests were starting to eat. The mood was joyful and exuberant, no one thought of the dangers that lurked outside.

Rose watched as the first nobles took to the dance floor, moving rhythmically in tune with the music. Talya signaled Rose to serve wine to Aegon, who held his cup out impatiently, sunk into his chair. From his facial expressions and glazed eyes, Rose could tell he was already drunk.

As Rose poured wine into Aegon's cup, he looked up at her. The disinterest in his face disappeared and a glint entered his tired eyes.

"Rose," he said with a happy undertone, and she curtsied.

"My king."

"I heard what you did for my children and my sister," he began, turning to her. "You saved my family."

"I did what anyone would have done, my king."

"I doubt that," Aegon objected. "Most of them don't like me. Loyalty to their king is divided. Risking one's own life doesn't come naturally to many, especially when they don't know if it's worth it."

Rose understood what he was hinting at and she shook her head. "I don't expect anything."

"Why not? No gold, no jewelry, or maybe a title?"

"A title?"

"I could make you a lady."

A thoroughly impressive notion, but other than the title of a lady, Rose would not fall changed. There were many women who were rich and had noble blood in them and yet served here. She shook her head. She was not impressed by such things. She had other desires, other needs, but that was not something the king could fulfill for her.

"I desire nothing, my king."

The king raised an eyebrow. He emptied his wine cup in a few gulps and placed the empty cup back on the table in front of him.

"How interesting you are, Rose," Aegon purred, letting his gaze slide over her body. "Then let me make a wish. Dance with me."

Rose looked at him in surprise. He couldn't be serious. The king wanted to dance with a servant. He couldn't.

"Dance with you? You... you honor me, your majesty, but I hardly think that would be appropriate."

"Says who?"

"My king, me," Rose tried to contradict, but Aegon shook his head and stood up. He held out his hand, signaling Rose to take it. Her gaze slid to Aemond and she saw him staring at her and Aegon. His gaze was hard, icy. She saw that he disliked it, but he was the king, what did she have to say in this case?

Suddenly silence returned to the hall and Rose felt all eyes on her. She was uncomfortable with the attention, but Aegon seemed to enjoy shocking everyone present.

Alicent stood up indignantly and grabbed Aegon's arm.

"What are you doing, Aegon?"

"I want to dance, mother."

"You know exactly what I mean."

"She saved my children. Helaena and you. Didn't you say yourself you were grateful?"

"Of course," Alicent hissed as quietly as he could. "But you are the king. It's-"

"Only a dance," Aegon interrupted her, releasing her grip from his arm. "I wish to dance. You yourself said I should try something other than boozing. So I do what my honorable mother asks of me."

The last was definitely mockery and Alicent's face turned red with anger. But she had no choice and sat back with her father, who was watching the events disapprovingly. Rose took in the contemptuous looks of the people, and would have liked to sink into the ground. She took in the hateful looks of the women and the curious but also indignant looks of the men. The looks of the servants seemed dismissive and almost punitive. As if it had been Rose who had asked the king to dance.

"Music," Aegon ordered when she arrived at the center of the dance. The musicians obeyed.

"You can dance, can't you?"

It would have been nice if he had asked that first. The look on her face seemed to speak volumes and Aegon laughed before he began to lead her. "You're lucky I'm an excellent dancer."

Aegon wasn't lying. He really was a good dancer and Rose had nothing else to do but let him lead her.

They danced the whole song. When they stopped musicians Rose wanted to break away from Aegon, but the king held her and signaled them to play a new one. He asked the guests to enter the dance floor as well and after an awkward silence, the first lords and ladies dared to enter the dance floor hesitantly.

"Do you like it, Rose?" asked Aegon as he spun her around.

"Of course, my king," Rose lied, and apparently her look spoke volumes, for Aegon laughed and pulled her close.

"You're not a very good liar."

"Forgive me."

"There's no reason for it. I'm enjoying it for both of us."

As long as at least one does, Rose thought.

"Do you see the looks on their faces?"

They were hard to ignore.

"I guess they're jealous that I get to dance with such a pretty woman and they don't."

Rose doubted that, but she knew Aegon was just buttering her up. For whatever reason that was his intention.

"I think they are jealous of me because the king considers me worthy of dancing with him, despite my lowly origins," Rose replied. What Aegon could do, she had long been able to do. She knew she had to say to please their lordships. They were all the same. Even the king was not exempt from this.

Aegon laughed. "I hardly think so," he said. "Shall I tell you a secret? They think I'm a failure, I know it. They forced me onto this throne, and now they condemn me for not fitting on it."

Rose did not know what to say. Aegon had said it jokingly, but she heard the seriousness in his words. Pity ran through her and Aegon saw it in her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that, sweet Rose," he commanded, and suddenly he stopped.

"My brother has truly taken a diamond to his bed."

Rose drew in a startled breath. "You know?" she asked in a trembling voice, and Aegon laughed. He leaned out with a grin.

"Of course, we tell each other everything."

It was humiliating to be called on it by Aegon. She felt like a whore, probably she was in his eyes. It was a sin to become intimate before marriage. As a woman, it was even more reprehensible.

"But my brother is not very experienced in this field. I fear your disappointment."

Rose had no idea what he was talking about. The two nights she and Aemond had spent together had been perfect and Rose could hardly have imagined these experiences better.

She felt the need to point out to Aegon to praise Aemond in front of him, but before she could say anything, Aegon grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her close to him.

"Let me prove it to you," he breathed, and before Rose could do anything, he pressed his lips to her mouth. She widened her eyes and didn't know what to do for a moment before she pressed her hands to his chest and tried to push him away from her. But Aegon was superior to her in size and strength.

"Please stop," Rose pleaded between slightly parted lips, but Aegon didn't even notice her words. he didn't care. He only pressed her tighter against him, but before he could do anything more, he was suddenly pulled away from her and another person stood between them.

Rose looked at the silver hair of Aemond that was spread wildly over his back.

"What do you think you're doing, brother?"

There was an irritated expression on Aegon's face, but it disappeared when he registered his brother in front of him.

A smile appeared on his lips.

"What then Aemond, didn't you like the performance?"

"You're making a fool of yourself."

"Why? Because I'm having fun? I'm just enjoying the presence of the enchanting Rose." Aegon winked at her. His kiss still burned on her lips.

Aemond reached for his collar. Aegon grinned. He was provoking his little one on purpose, Rose realized. "Aemond," Alicent called out, but no one paid her any attention.

"Stop provoking me, Aegon. That's not why you're embarrassing her."

"She is embarrassed to dance with the king? Is that true, my rose?"

Aegon's gaze turned to Rose, but before she could say anything, Aemond beat her to it.

"She is not 'your' Rose, Aegon."

Aegon made a pout.

"Why not?" he asked, feigned sadness. "Don't you think that 'my' wife, is 'yours', or why are you always with her?"

"She's my sister, you son of a bitch," Aemond hissed snidely. His voice trembled with anger.

"Why? She's mine, too, isn't she? That doesn't stop her from being a woman." Aegon raised his shoulders and stepped closer to his brother. While Aemond stared down at him with hatred, joy could be seen dancing in Aegon's eyes.

"It's all good, Aemond. I don't have a problem with it. You can have her," Aegon whispered, so softly that only Aemond and she, heard him. "Just give me yours," Aegon looked at her and winked. Rose felt sick. His hand was on Aemond's shoulder, as if he were giving him friendly advice. "-and I'll give you mine. We'll do a whore swap, does sound fair, right? Helaena is still tight, I haven't been inside her much."

Rose didn't see Aemond's fist coming, but the impact in Aegon's face drowned it all out. Aegon flew backward from the blow, lost his balance and landed on the floor. Screams echoed through the hall. Rose saw Aemond lunge at his brother. The guards left their posts and rushed to the king's aid, but no one really knew what to do. Aemond was Aegon's brother, a Targaryen prince and had high command.

"Pull the prince down from the king," Ser Criston Cole shouted.

The men obeyed and reacted quickly. It took three men to pull Aemond off Aegon. Aegon pushed himself backward and came staggering to his feet. He spat the blood on the ground and looked angrily at his younger brother, who returned his gaze.

"Aegon," Alicent hissed, trying to hold Aegon down, but the king tore away from her.

"Your behavior is shameful, you-"

"I'm what? Huh? A disappointment? Less worthy than your favoriteson? What is it this time, mother?"

Alicent looked at him in shock. "I was going to say you're the king."

Aegon laughed. "Yes, thanks to you, we all know it."

He looked bitter and looked accusingly at his mother.

With those words, Aegon turned and stomped out of the dance hall without paying attention to anyone else. Rose's gaze locked on Aemond as he wiped the blood from his face. He looked angrily after Aegon.

"Aemond," Alicent began, but Aemond avoided her touch. "Not now, Mother," he said harshly, an unusual tone he directed at his adored mother, and reached for Rose's hand to pull her with him. Rose trudged after him, feeling the stares of the others on her neck.

. . . . . .

Dyana watched the scenario between Aemond and Aegon. She looked at Rose, who watched the two of them stunned as they made a laughing stock of the royal family. When Aegon had kissed Rose, she had expected the king to take something that didn't belong to him again, but what she didn't expect was that Aemond Targaryen would get in his way.

Was Rose sleeping with the prince? Did she also sleep with the king? Anger spread through her body.

She looked at Talya, who gave her a knowing look. She didn't know if it was because of Rose or the fact that Dyana was now working for the same person as her.

After Aegon had robbed her of her honor and Queen Alicent had stomped on it once again, Dyana had spent every night hating them more and more. She had longed for revenge more and more with every breath she had taken. And when the Gray Worm had contacted her through Talya, she had taken that chance. What she didn't know, however, was that they were planning to kill the Queen's children. She had thought that they were all going to be distracted while Dyana freed the prince, who had been imprisoned in the Red Keep for far too long.

"Dyana," Lucerys had said, taking her hand. "I will never forget you. We will return and take what is ours, and then I will make sure my mother knows we are forever in your debt."

He had kissed her on the cheek before he had fled. She had looked after him for a long time, her hand on her cheek, protecting the feeling on it that Lucerys had left behind. She was hopelessly in love with the prince. She would have done anything for him, but now she had to be careful not to let her betrayal be traced back to her. Blood and Cheese, names that should be known in all seven kingdoms by now, were dead and the only ones who knew of their betrayals were their employers.

But Dyana had chosen her side.

She inevitably wondered if her only friend would now become her enemy as she watched Rose join Aemond, her face anxiously resting on him.

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 2 years

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Phantoms of the Past: Vergil x Male Reader

SUMMARY: Vergil has always had nightmares and night terrors for as long as he can remember; however, when he met you, those began to subside more and more. Over the years, he had begun to forget what it was like to wake up in a cold sweat and terrified; that is until a few months ago. Once more, his mind has been plagued by these agonizingly real dreams.

BEGINNING NOTES: HAH! YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE WRITING SAD FLUFF WITH VERGIL; WELL THINK AGAIN (He really is my comfort character--I swear). There are 12,886 words in this… This beats my last one so now this is the longest chapter I’ve written--It’s like 23 pages in google docs lmao. ⚔️🛡️⚔️ ▪️I couldn’t find an exact answer to this so I will put this here: a grin refers to the lil’ smirky smile Vergil gives Dante in DMC5 while a smile is closer to like showing your teeth. I hope that helps clear things up a bit lmao ▫️I use an in-game combo term (DMC 5)--just a head’s up. ▪️When I reference triggering unless I say specifically “Sin Trigger” I am referring to Vergil’s regular trigger (the pre-DMC 5 form; however, I use the concept art for DMC5 as my visual reference… I know that’s kinda complicated. Just look at his fandom page and then the gallery; you’ll see the concept art for DMC5.) ▫️I’ve never personally had a concussion before so I did some online research; forgive me if it is a bad representation of having 🛡️⚔️🛡️ 💠Vergil x Male reader; I tried to write G/N but it got confusing, sorry. 🔹Pre-established relationship--married and living together. 💠Fluff… well more angst; I got kind of carried away. 🔹Minor accusations of physical abuse; THE KEYWORD IS ACCUSATIONS. (trigger warning) 💠Minor blood warning; from both of you. ⚔️🛡️⚔️ READER RELATED 🔹The reader uses: Beowulf and Revenant 🔹Reader is overly chill about things; I am a rather passive person so it ended up being that way with this story, sorry. 🔹It is mentioned that you are younger than Vergil--and closer to Nero’s age. 🔹Reader does throw up; only mentioned it isn’t like graphic or anything--still figured I should warn just in case. 🛡️⚔️🛡️ VERGIL RELATED 💠Vergil has PTSD-related nightmares/actions. 💠Self-harm? Vergil skins himself accidentally; so I am not sure if that is self-harm per se. Plus it’s only in one part so it’s not that big of a talking point. 🛡️⚔️🛡️ Slight spoiler, don't read if you don't want to have things spoiled: To add some explanation to Vergil’s bit where he swore and freaked out: I figure that when Vergil lost his autonomy for so long as Nelo Angelo, he ended up becoming hyper-aware of what he is doing at all times. So when he does something that he either can’t remember doing or didn’t want to do that it would send him into a panic; fearing that he is going to lose his freedom again.

INSPIRED BY: And when thy heart ceased to beat--By: Craig

Please give this a read. It is what originally inspired me to write this, plus it is just a really good story and takes a pretty realistic look at what Vergil’s life could/would be like after everything that’s happened.

A cold wind swept through the arena as all movement stilled.

At the edges were the two remaining contenders; circling one another. One, a male human equipped with Beowulf, was out of breath and exhausted: the other, the olive-armored Nelo Angelo, had barely warmed up and diligently awaited the human's next move.

Seeing how the man defeated the slew of lesser demons that Nelo had sent prior, he decided to take things into his own hands. The devilish swordsman was confident that he’d win this fight; even if this particular human has been more of a challenge than anticipated--as the pair has been going at it for nearly an hour now.

With gritted teeth, the man sprinted at Nelo, cracking the ground in their wake. He was going to try and grapple with the large knight. Right before he was able, Nelo swung his greatsword. The silver blade was suddenly halted as it hit the Beowulf gauntlets. Even though the man was unharmed, the momentum of the attack was enough to fling the human far across the field.

Using the claws of the gauntlets, the man shredded the arena’s floor and stopped himself. Nelo turned to face him and waited for the incompetent warrior to stand back up. Noticing that the knight stood still, the man began to grow frustrated; knowing that the devil was taunting him to try again.

With a pounding heart and exhaustion only worsening, the man stood up with a grunt. He rolled his shoulders, cracking them loudly, and took a deep breath. Once more he sprinted at Nelo. When the man was close enough, he decided to jump off one of the nearby walls. Springing himself above the Black Knight and performed Starfall.

Nelo dodged but wasn't quite fast enough and was nicked along one side; which only further irritated the Black Knight. The second the man's feet landed, Nelo kicked the underside of their knees--bringing them to a kneel.

Not wasting any time, Nelo raised his sword to strike, only to be blocked once more by the Beowulf gauntlets. The pair locked in a bind; Nelo’s sword heavily pushing downwards onto the forearms of Beowulf, which were painfully held above the man’s head.

No matter what way you put it, a devil's strength is insurmountable to a human’s, even if the human is wearing the armor of a former devil. Nelo knew this and drove his weapon harder into the demonic protection as it began to falter.

Knowing it was only a matter of time before the gauntlets shattered, the man moved into a position where he could dig his feet into the ground. This allowed him to stand ever so slightly. Not having any better ideas, he used this small amount of space and attempted to jump. This, in turn, used the demonic energy of the boots to push the gauntlets up harder into the greatsword; allowing the man to stand up further. Without wasting any time, he jumped once more and noticed small cracks that began to spider on their forearm guards. However, he had enough room to break away from Nelo; making the knight slam his blade into the ground.

The man grumbled as they looked down at his gauntlets, seeing that they would shatter if hit by the sword again.

Nelo pulled his sword back up and huffed. Now it was his turn.

Nelo sprinted at his opponent and lunged with the broadsword; catching the man off guard; as he only barely dodged the sharp edge, rolling into a stand. Before the man had a moment to think, Nelo attacked once more. A large sweeping motion from the broadsword hit the gauntlets and blue sparks flew off the sword from the impact; sending the human flying into a wall of the arena.

Standing back on his feet, the man looked at his forearms; Beowulf had fractured all the way through. Seeing Nelo begin to move in again, he quickly shed the broken armor and dodged. Using Beowulf’s boots, he jumped onto Nelo’s shoulders and used him as a surface to bounce off.

The devil turned to face the man and heard him say something unintelligible; and yet, something so familiar. Nelo ignored it with a small dismissive shake of his head and continued the fight. Once more he moved to attack. The man attempted to dodge in the same way again, not knowing what else to do. However, Nelo wasn’t created yesterday. He was quick enough to grab the man's leg in a flash.

Nelo used the human’s limb as a handle to swing the attached body into the ground. The floor cracked from the extreme force as the man's flesh made contact; followed by an ear-piercing scream and the sound of an unimaginable amount of breaking bones.

A strange feeling ghosted at the recesses of Nelo’s mind, a feeling of terror--a deep underlying urge to stop what he was doing. However, the knight had to finish what he started. The demonic swordsman grabbed the man by his neck; making him scream once more.

Despite their wounds, the human still attempted to fight. He grasped at Nelo’s face and horns, pulling on them; all the while, the man was saying something Nelo was still unable to understand.

It didn’t matter, the struggle was pointless.

Like a hot knife through butter, Nelo plunged his broadsword through the man’s torso. Nelo felt the human’s body go limp and their hands released the tight grasp on his face. The dead man’s blood trickled down the silver blade and onto Nelo Angelo’s olive-armored fingers. Before the knight could enjoy his victory, he decided to get a better look at his opponent.

A loud clatter emanated from his sword as he dropped it and the fresh corpse. The Black Knight’s hands shook as he looked at the blood that was dripping from them, horrified at what he’d done.

Vergil shot upwards with a loud terrified scream.

He frantically turned his head around to get his bearings. He was sitting at home, in bed, with you. Vergil’s heart was racing and his skin was clammy. With short panicked breaths, Vergil gripped his face tightly, unknowingly tearing at his skin with his claws, as he replayed everything in his mind.

“Vergil? Is everything alright?” a confused and very concerned voice called from the space beside him.

The blue devil nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing you speak. You sat upwards upon noticing his terrified state.

“Hey,” you whispered and gently touched his bicep, making him flinch.

Vergil turned his head to you and just stared. You noticed that his arms were partially triggered, his eyes were glowing dully, and there were small pin-prick-sized bleeding marks caused by his claws on his face. His stare was blank with his brow ever-so-slightly creased. He looked afraid… almost as if he were lost.

“Another nightmare?” you softly kneaded against his arm, hoping to bring him back from whatever terrified thoughts he was in, “It’s okay, Vergil. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you.”

His stare moved down to your chest and he slowly reached outwards. Confused, you let go of his arm--allowing him to fully pivot to see you. Barely-there scaled charcoal-black fingers ghost down your midline. You noticed a slight tremble in his lips and his stare had softened a bit.

Slowly you grabbed his arm, making sure he could see what you were doing (and to be cautious of his forearm’s blades), “I’m right here, Vergil. You’re safe and at home. Everything’s okay.”

He opened his mouth but no words came out, just a weak crack of his voice. The both of you just sat for a few minutes; his palm resting firmly over your stomach while you rubbed his forearm. You continued to try and ground him back in reality with your words, hoping to keep things from escalating.

When Vergil’s trigger began to subside, he cleared his throat and spoke in a barely audible voice, “I didn’t…” his voice trailed off once more.

“It’s okay Vergil,” you noticed his expression had shifted and he seemed to be more present, “You’re safe. I’m safe. We’re alright.”

Vergil nodded slowly, his free hand moved to yours that you had on his forearm. You let go of him and watched as he removed his palm from your skin. He placed your hand in between both of his. With trembling fingers, Vergil ran his digits over your hand and arm while staring down at the interaction.

Another few minutes passed, Vergil’s trigger had fully subsided and a few stray tears fell from his eyes. It pained you to see him like this; to see him so scared and not know how to help him. A small pang of hurt tugged at your heart; you had a feeling that whatever the nightmare was, it involved you as (you presumed) most have. However, tonight was different; Vergil didn’t attack you.

Over the past few months, Vergil’s nightmares and terrors had been getting steadily worse. Just two weeks ago he woke you up by almost dislocating your shoulder. A week ago? Vergil triggered in his sleep and gouged the crap out of your back--enough that you had to get new bedding because of bloodstains.

Tonight, you finally managed to get him to sleep for the first time in a week and he had another agonizing nightmare. It was also the first time he had tried to speak to you afterwards; rather than sit in silence.

A stuttering breath caught your attention. You looked into Vergil’s eyes as he spoke, his voice still laced with a terror you’d never heard from him before, “I couldn’t… You...” the blue devil’s jaw quivered, not being able to bring himself to finish his thought.

“You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay,” you moved to get closer to him, “I promise.”

He pulled you into his lap and buried his face into your neck and continued to mumble, “I’m sorry,” over and over as he shook against you.

You gently wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back, “It’s not your fault, you don’t have to be sorry.”

The two of you remained this way until you both fell asleep. Vergil, thankfully, did not have another nightmare; however, his sleep was far from restful.

A ringing phone woke you from your sleep and you moved to grab it, only to be stopped by a strong set of arms. Vergil had wrapped himself entirely around you--legs and all.

“Vergil,” you whispered, “I need to get up.”

He grumbled in response and loosened his grip just enough for you to slip out of bed. You grabbed your phone and went to the bathroom. While in there, you saw that Dante had tried to call you and text you:

“You coming in today?”

“Hello?”

“I am going to keep spamming you till you respond,” and that he did.

It looked like Dante had been doing this for the past 30 minutes.

After you finished up in the bathroom, you called Dante.

It rang once before the red devil picked up, “Mornin’ beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes as you made your way back to the bedroom, “Do not call me that; Vergil will kill you.”

“Be one hell of a way to die--make sure to put it on my grave, yeah?”

The both of you laughed, “So, what’s up? The shop finally burn down or something?”

“Honestly… I don’t think the fires of Hell could burn this place down…” you could hear Dante’s chair creak as he leaned forwards, “You both forgot about that job this morning, huh?”

Your face went pale, “What--”

The younger twin laughed, “Verge and you had a contract for today. It’s nearly noon and you both are still at home?”

“Son of a bitch!” you yelled, forgetting that Vergil was still sleeping, “We’ll be right there.”

“See you soon,” you could practically hear Dante reveling in the fact Vergil messed up.

“Mhm, yep,” with that, you hung up the phone.

“Dante?” Vergil grumbled from the bed, making you jump slightly.

The bed creaked as you sat on it, swinging one leg on it, “Yeah… We are late to work…”

Vergil moved to set his head on your lap and sighed, “I will undoubtedly never hear the end of this mistake.”

“Mhm,” you gently ran your fingers through his naturally down hair, “knowing Dante.”

“Brillant,” Vergil looked up at you and had a strange pained look.

“Something on your mind?”

His lips parted slightly as he took a hand and reached up to your face, not saying anything.

You kissed his palm, “I’m right here, Vergil.”

He closed his eyes and nodded with a sputtering exhale. This had also become a regular occurrence in the last few months; even before the terrors began. You had noticed that Vergil would often stare at you with this sad and distant look on his face. One night, he finally acknowledged that he did so and admitted why; that he was afraid you aren't real.

After a few moments, Vergil removed his hand and sat upright. An air of remorse emanated from the twin as he whispered, “I did not harm you last night, did I?”

You shook your head, “No,” you set a hand on his bicep, “You did talk to me a bit, though.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to remember and looked over his shoulder at you.

“You kept… apologizing, telling me that you didn’t know..? I won’t pry, but…” you locked eyes with the blue devil, “I am here if you ever want or need to talk about it, okay?”

He turned to you, “Thank you for your offer… But I assure you that I am fine.”

“Vergil,” you placed a hand on his and spoke softly, “You don’t have to be fine all the time; it’s okay to be upset, to have problems.”

A weak grin was all he gave you in return, squeezing your hand tightly.

The eldest twin knew exactly what had set off this spiral of increasingly terrified thoughts; however, he was ashamed to admit it, even to you.

It had been a job just like any other; clear out demons here and destroy a nest there--a piece of cake really. However, the weather was far from amiable; being overcast and heavily raining.

“Fuck me!” you growled as you violently yanked the Beowulf boot from the mud.

The demonic hardware is rather heavy, at least for your human legs, so it is not ideal for muddy rainy weather--often getting stuck. Vergil noticed your grumbling and scrunched-up expression from the corner of his eye as he stifled a laugh.

“Don’t even--” you insincerely growled at him, “I swear I will throw them at you.”

Vergil smirked slightly and huffed a laugh through his nose, “Perhaps you’d prefer me to leave you here?”

Playfully you shoved his shoulder, “You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyes narrowed, "I wouldn't?"

You raised a brow, "You'll sleep on the couch for a week if you do, mister,” your voice was heavily layered with sarcasm and playfulness.

Without responding, Vergil grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you over one of his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Hey--!” you squirmed in his grasp.

“Stop struggling,” his grip tightened as his fingers dug into your skin, “Or I will drop you.”

With a shake of your head and a smile, you laughed, “What a romantic husband I have.”

“Tch,” Vergil was scowling, but you knew it was disingenuous.

The two of you walked like this for some time, enjoying the comfortable silence (which if you listened very closely, you could hear Vergil purring). A part of you had almost forgotten that the both of you were on a job; that is until Vergil yanked you from his shoulder and plopped you on your feet.

He placed a stiff hand on your shoulder, “Stay,” with that, Vergil dashed off behind you.

Confused, you turned around and watched Vergil zip around a group of miscellaneous demons. You lovingly wolf-whistled at the silver-haired hunter.

Similar to a peacock showing its feathers, Vergil did these solo fights to show off--to flirt with you. You knew that this was the case because he would always finish the fight with a fancy move; be it an over-the-top judgment cut or using his doppelgänger in a combo. Today he opted for the second type.

You smirked widely as you watched Vergil return the Yamato to its scabbard and dismiss Doppel.

Lovingly, you cooed at the devilish swordsman, “I love watching you work, you know that?”

His face was emotionless, holding intense eye contact with you. His lips were slightly parted as he seemingly tried to come up with a response.

Under your breath, you laughed quietly and approached him, “my Dark Slayer,” you winked and gave him a large grin.

He closed his lips and looked down with a tiny smirk, a trace amount of bashfulness ghosted his features. As you got within reach of him, a loud noise made both of you snap to attention. The two of you moved closer together, back to back; as per typical routine. The source of the noise sprung from the nearby buildings. It was a group of four Scudo Angelos and two Proto Angelos.

Vergil’s lip twitched as he huffed in irritation. He would always take care of these two types in particular, alone. Right now, however, it is impossible to get you away to a safe distance without a high risk of hurting you.

“So, you got a plan?” you calmly asked over your shoulder to Vergil.

With a small click of his tongue, Vergil spoke, “You take care of the Scudos; I will take the Protos.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded and the two of you broke apart.

Using Beowulf, you made quick work of the smaller demons’ shields. The talon heels of the boots are always a great tool for crushing the demons’ thick skulls. It didn’t take long for you to have them all but bloodied remains beneath your heels. You turned to address Vergil, figuring that he had finished his fight alongside you; however, he was still in combat.

You raised a brow as you watched him take on both of the knights. Confusion pricked at the edges of your mind, it was unusual for Vergil to take longer than you. The closer you watched the more off he seemed; his movements were overly stiff and his technique was sloppy. Deciding to help him, you moved in on one of the Proto Angelos. It didn’t take long for the demon to notice you. It charged at you and, just as it swung its broadsword, you parried the attack using your gauntlets. Taking advantage of the small gap of time that it took for the demon to pull its blade upwards, you hit it square in the chest.

The Proto Angelo stumbled back a bit but was relatively unphased by the uncharged punch. Now circling each other, you waited for the demon to attack. Once it did, you jumped upwards and were able to perform Starfall upon the knight. Grinding your taloned heels into the flattened olive-armored demon, you did a fancy flip off of it; deciding to have some fun. Which was a major mistake.

You hadn’t noticed that the second Proto Angelo also had its attention on you as it had knocked Vergil into a far-off wall. Hearing movement, you spun around to defend yourself but it was too late.

A searing pain shot through you as the demon’s broadsword slashed horizontally along your torso. With a loud shout, your knees buckled a bit as you stumbled backwards. You placed your arm along the slash, feeling it with your fingers--as to not break eye contact with the demon. The wound was bleeding profusely and was much deeper than you anticipated.

“Shit,” you grimaced and noticed the first Proto Angelo stand up. Thinking quickly, you sprinted at the second one and jumped off its shoulders. With another loud shout in pain, you landed using a shoulder roll. Your head was spinning as you slowly moved to kneel with your back to the demons.

A bright blue flash caught your eye and you felt a gush of wind pass you by. Once you managed to stand, the pair of Proto Angelos had been desolated into nothing but specs of dust in the wind. Where the demons once stood was Vergil in his sin trigger. Instantly, he was in front of you, making you jump a little.

With a huff and a weak smile, you jested, “Kinda sad I missed that,” you winced a bit as you felt your gut twitch in pain.

A large grey-scaled hand gently touched your wound. Despite the heavy distortion of his sinful voice, you could tell he was worried, “You are hurt?”

You did your best to play it off as you set a hand atop his, “I’ll be fine; it’s just a scratch.”

He huffed loudly and pulled his hand from your body, looking at his palm that was covered in your blood, “I am sending you home--”

“What-!” you shook your head, “Vergil, you can’t be-”

The blue devil snarled lightly, “This is not up for discussion,” he sighed with a shake of his head returning to his human form, “It is not worth the risk to keep you here.”

With parted lips, you did your best to formulate a sentence despite your anger, “I’m not just going to leave you,” you shifted your jaw to the side, “We’re partners, remember?”

“As if I could forget,” Vergil’s eyes met yours as he mumbled, “That is why I am doing this.”

“Vergil?” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, “You okay? You’ve been zoned out for a few minutes.”

“Forgive me,” he removed his hand from yours, “I was lost in thought.”

You looked at him curiously.

Vergil shifted to the other edge of the bed, “We should get ready,” with that Vergil left the room.

You pursed your lips and sighed through your nose as you stood up; admittedly, you had hoped he might indulge you on what he was thinking about.

After a few minutes, Vergil returned to the room. You already had the majority of your gear on and were in the middle of tying your boots when the ringing of your cell phone caught your attention.

Before you could answer it, Vergil snatched it off the bedside table, “What do you want, Dante? "

Although you couldn’t hear the younger twin, you could tell that he was poking fun at Vergil for being late.

“Have you called only to pester? Or is there a reason for this conversation?” Vergil’s lip twitched as he huffed through his nose.

A small smirk tugged at your lips at Vergil’s feigned irritation at his baby brother.

“I see,” Vergil slowly looked over to you and eyed you up and down, “My partner and I will discuss it and let you know,” he turned his gaze from you, “Goodbye,” he hung up the phone and placed it gently down on the bedside table as it was before.

Vergil moved to the closet and grabbed a dress shirt, his jaw moving slowly around as he mindlessly buttoned the black fabric. Your boots hit the floor with a soft thud. Humming a soft tune as you moved to the dresser to grab Revenant off of it, sliding it into the horizontal holster on the small of your back. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Vergil standing behind you.

“Oops, shit-- sorry,” you shuffled out of the way.

“Do not apologize, I am in no rush,” he opened one of the drawers and grabbed a pair of pants and his belt.

A bright smile adorned your face as you resumed your humming. You grabbed your coat and his off the nearby wall hooks and walked over to him.

Vergil had moved back to the closet and slid on one of his vests.

“Allow me?”

The blue devil turned to you, “I can button my own clothing.”

“I thought you weren’t in a rush?” you teased gently.

You handed Vergil his coat to hold and slowly began to button the slate-blue apparel. Out of the top of your vision, you could see that Vergil was staring down at you with a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

“So what did Dante want?” you reached over to the closet behind him and grabbed one of his ties.

“He wanted to know if you wished to trade places with him for today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you made sure the tie was semi-loose--as he prefers--and tucked it beneath his vest.

“That he would accompany me on the job and you would work with the women--taking Dante’s place."

“Well,” you rested your hands on his shoulders and sighed quietly, “I guess that makes the most sense since we are so late today…”

“Are you sure you are alright with it?” his eyes flicked to your hands then back to you, “I know you prefer to work with me,” he tossed his coat over on the bed and placed his hands on your waist.

You laughed as you felt him pull you closer, “It’ll be fine, dear,” you leaned your head on his chest, “just promise me you’ll stay safe and keep in touch?”

“Of course,” his voice was barely over a whisper as he kissed the top of your head, “Same goes for you.”

“I will,” a grin spread across your face as you leaned back to look at him. Lovingly, Vergil pressed further into you and moved one of his hands to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb on your cheek. The two of you kissed gently. His other hand kneaded into your hips as you moved your hands down the front of his chest, grabbing his vest.

Gradually, you two split from the kiss. The blue devil stayed touching your forehead. You shivered slightly feeling his hot breath against your lips, wanting to taste more of him.

“Perhaps we should save this for later?”

“Just a little more… please?” you pouted slightly.

The blue devil chuckled softly, “With a face like that,” he brushed his lips against yours, “how could I say no?”

The two of you intertwined yourselves once more. He moved both his hands to your sides, slowly and strongly kneading down them. With kisses as sweet as molasses, he made sure to show you how much he relishes in your affections. One of your hands moved to his hair and slowly ran your fingers through slicked back pomaded locks. A small distant purring could be heard as he pulled you even tighter to his body. Vergil’s lips left yours and ran down your jawline and neck.

“I love you,” you murmured, “so very much…”

He removed his lips from your skin and looked you in the eyes; his way of expressing the same affection. Despite his silence, you knew he felt the same.

A ghost of a smile hinted at Vergil's face as he reluctantly let go of your body, returning to his regular volume, “We should get going; otherwise I may change my mind about saving things for later.”

Your face turned a slight red at the flat-out way Vergil said that he wanted you. The blue devil had walked over to the bed and slid on his coat. He then grabbed Yamato from its resting place next to the bed and your phone.

With your phone outstretched in his hand, he raised a brow at your expression, “Ready?”

You shook the ever-encroaching ideas from your head as you meekly grabbed your phone, “Yeah.”

“Good,” his hand was still outstretched, “Shall we?”

A large smile decorated your face as you grabbed his hand, “Lead the way, dear.”

The instant you left Nico’s van after work, you went inside to bathe. It had been another rainy day and you were not only coated in demon blood but also mud--lots of mud. You pulled off Beowulf before entering your shared home and set them on the rubber mat near the door; leaving them to clean later.

Slowly, you undressed as you made your way to the bathroom when you heard something odd.

“--to do,” it was Vergil. You peered through the door of the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from you and was talking to himself, “Perhaps it would be best--” he stopped and turned his head slightly to the right.

You bit your lip and knocked gently, “Hey, sorry to intrude… Didn’t know you were home.”

Vergil pushed up on his knees, standing to turn and face you, “Do not apologize, I wasn’t doing anything important…” he looked worn out.

The door creaked as you fully opened it and stepped into the room, halfway undressed, “You look tired, babe.”

The blue devil shook his head, “Dealing with my brother is exhausting.”

“Well, then after I shower,” you set Revenant down on the dresser, “maybe we should take a nap together?”

“I-” Vergil’s expression hardened, “I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

Your lips parted slightly as you looked with a soft crease of your brow, “I know it’s been rough but… you need some sleep, Vergil…”

He looked as if he were going to say something, but moved his gaze to the floor and nodded in agreement.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” you moved back towards the door, “I’ll join you when I get back, okay?”

The eldest twin nodded as he watched you leave the room.

He had already removed most of his clothing, only having his pants and his, untucked, dress shirt on. Slowly, Vergil stood and went to get a more casual shirt; removing the rest of his work clothes.

Now dressed in a loose-fitting black tank top and navy boxer briefs, he moved back to the bed. Apprehensive didn’t even describe how he felt right now; no, the eldest son of Sparda was petrified over the thought of sleep. However, you were right, he was beyond beat and wanted nothing more than to rest. With a heavy sigh, he climbed into the bed and closed his eyes, praying for just a moment of pleasant sleep.

You came back into the room about an hour later. With a warm smirk, you tip-toed around the room to avoid waking the sleeping devil. Once you re-dressed yourself, you turned back to look at Vergil when you noticed something was wrong.

His face was contorted into a rather violent grimace and, as per the night before, was partially triggered. Vergil was also breathing heavily and growling in his sleep. In his arms, he had taken one of the pillows--and some of the duvet--into a death grip, ripping them.

Biting your lip in thought you sighed, “Shit…” although you knew that this could only end badly, you decided to wake him up from his nightmare.

Cautiously, you moved to the edge of the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Vergil..?”

Nothing.

Your gut twisted with fear as you shook him harder, “Vergil?”

Still nothing.

With a heavy sigh, you shook him harder, “Wake up…”

Instantly, you were pinned to the floor by a set of charcoal-black scaled hands around your throat. You had never been scared of Vergil before but tonight? You were terrified. His face was somewhere between emotionless and furious. A loud rumbling growl emanated from the back of his throat as he continued to squeeze ever-tighter.

“Verg-” your voice sputtered as you grabbed his arms, gasping for air.

Blood had begun to trickle down your palms as you accidentally sliced them on his forearm blades in your panic. Becoming steadily aware of your need for air, you grabbed at his face and neck; anything to get him off of you.

Tears sprung from your eyes as you felt his claws pierce the sides of your neck as his grip tightened even further. You knew that if he pressed down his thumbs, Vergil would stab right into your windpipe and kill you.

Lightheadedness began to sink in as you croaked out another beseeching plea to your lover, “Vergil--!”

With nothing left to do, you clawed harder against him and roughly cut into his cheek with your nails. This seemingly pulled him from his delusion as his grip loosened.

A new look replaced the hardened glare from before, a look of complete and utter horror.

Vergil’s voice trembled as he realized what was going on, “What--?”

You took a loud deep breath and pulled his arms away from you and spoke as best you could with the growing pain in your throat, “Move,” you pushed against his body and did your best to speak normally, “please.”

Without hesitation, Vergil removed himself completely and stood staring down at you. He looked at his, still-triggered, hands and saw your blood dripping from his claws. The blue devil’s blood ran cold.

“Vergil-” you groaned as you sat upwards, watching him bolt out of the room, “Wait-” with a strained grunt, you gradually stood upright and did your best to stabilize your wobbly legs.

The blue devil slammed the bathroom door close, quickly locking it behind him. His hands had de-triggered and shook violently as he tried to wash the blood from his skin. He had turned the faucet as hot as possible and had begun to inadvertently scorch his skin. While he was brutalizing his own hands, he felt something drip down his jawline and to the tip of his chin. Vergil looked at himself in the fogged-up glass in front of him.

Upon each side of his face and neck were dark smears of your blood from you pushing him away. Three large scratches decorated one of his cheeks and were slowly bleeding; now dripping off of his chin and to the sink below. Vergil took one of his hands and slowly ghosted over the markings on his face. A deep all-encompassing pit formed in his gut as he replayed the nightmare from just the night prior. The feeling of you desperately tearing at Nelo’s face, trying to escape him.

A tremble found its way to Vergil’s lips and body. Pressing as hard as he could, the eldest twin began to desperately scrub his blood-stained face with the sink's boiling water; grimacing from the feeling of peeling the top layers off of his flesh. You were the only person in the world he wouldn’t dare fight, wouldn’t dare harm; yet, only mere moments ago, he had his hands around your neck. A wicked thought echoed in his mind, how it would have only taken just a few more seconds or just a little more pressure for him to have killed the only person he has ever loved. Vergil bared his teeth as he let out a muffled whimper, tears forming at the edges of his eyes.

The knob of the door jiggled, “Vergil?” the Dark Slayer flinched at the sound of your voice, even though it was soft and calm, “Vergil, are you okay?”

He couldn’t come up with what to say in response, only whimpering again with a sad twitch of his lip.

Using an even softer tone, you set your head on the door, “Vergil… Let me in, please?”

Despite his effort to come up with something, all he could muster was a loud voice crack as gripped the countertop.

“Vergil,” you sighed quietly, “I want to see you. Please open the door,” an overwhelming amount of fear had consumed your mind; not for yourself, but over how Vergil might punish himself over this, “Please, Vergil…”

“I-” he took a harsh breath trying to calm himself--and failing miserably, “What if I--” a crack began to form in the laminate countertop as his raw skinned fingers gripped harder and harder in growing frustration.

“You won't; I promise.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Vergil shut off the faucet and unlocked the door. You opened the door slowly and felt your heart sink at seeing your blue devil.

At the furthest point from the door, he was sitting on the floor, trembling heavily. Scalding red marks adorned his pale skin where he had been scrubbing and his fingers were no better.

“Vergil…” you approached him and saw his body stiffen, “Can I sit next to you?”

All he gave you was a small nod. Slowly, you moved next to him and sat beside him.

Neither of you spoke for nearly a half hour. At one point, you managed to get a hold of one of his hands and intertwined your fingers; thumbing over the fading red marks. Internally, you were fighting the urge to hold him as close and as tight to you as possible.

Vergil’s voice was nearly silent when he finally spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay--”

“No,” he pulled his hand from yours and turned to stare at you, “No, it’s not okay,” with each word he got louder and held more frustration, “I could have--” he clenched his jaw as he scrunched his face, holding back his overwhelming storm of emotions, “I could have killed you!”

“Vergil…” you decided to follow his idea and pivoted to face him fully, “I face death every day with work so it--”

The blue devil snarled loudly, “I am not some mindless fucking demon,” he gripped his face with his hands, “I should be able to control myself!” tears began to slide down his face as he grimaced intensely, bearing his teeth in frustration.

You were taken aback, you have never heard Vergil swear before, let alone sound so distraught, “I--” your lips pursed as you carefully chose your words, “I didn’t mean it like that, Vergil,” you gently set a hand on his knee, “I just meant that I’m used to that kind of thing, as morbid as that sounds.”

A tremble reappeared through his lips, “You shouldn’t have to deal with that from me; it goes against everything I…” his mouth opened as if he were going to continue but no words came out.

You were trying your hardest to stay calm despite wanting to join his crying upon seeing him this way. Tenderly, you thumbed over his leg, “When we got married,” you made sure to keep your voice slow and soft, “I signed up for whatever hardships may happen, to or from either of us--that we would figure things out together,” you noticed that Vergil’s stare had finally reconnected to yours, “no matter what the what happens."

Vergil pursed his lips before taking a slow deep breath through his nose. His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes, slowly stopping his weeping, and removed his hands from his face.

A part of Vergil wanted to argue with you; to tell you that you're insane, delusional, that you shouldn't bear the punishment of his inner demons. The feeling of you grabbing his hands and holding them pulled him from his bitter thoughts.

Bringing one of his hands up to your lips, you kissed his knuckles, whispering against them, “I love you,” you brought the other hand up and repeated your action, “more than anything in the world, Vergil.”

His grip tightened on your hands, “You are a fool," Vergil did his best to sound normal but only managed to give a small whispering whimper of a response.

“If loving you is foolish then I will happily play the court jester, my love,” a small smile tugged at your lips, hoping to make him feel a little better.

After a brief moment of silence, Vergil released your hands and scooched closer to you, “May I see…” he meekly gestured at your neck.

You nodded slightly and exposed your neck to the blue devil. The skin of your neck had already begun to darken and had small red petechiae marks. It was easy to tell that Vergil had used his hands on you because of the long slender lines of bruising; which ended in much darker spots where he had been pressing the hardest (except his thumbs). At the end of each dark spot were small needle-like marks that had dried blood on and around them.

Although you tried your best, you flinched at the feeling of his fingers ghosting your neckline. Vergil’s expression became increasingly distressed the longer he looked at you. Seeing this, you grabbed his other hand and held it tightly; hoping to provide some solace to him.

“It’s alright, Vergil, it’ll heal,” you whispered as he pulled his hand back from your neck.

A small tremble found its way to his lips as he whispered back, “I am sorry.”

“You do not have to apologize,” you grabbed his other hand and held it, “It is not your fault.”

He paused for a moment before speaking, “We,” his voice cracked as he avoided your eyes, “We should get you cleaned up.”

With a comforting grin and soft voice you thumbed over his fingers, “You sure you are okay to do that?”

Vergil nodded, “I’ll be okay,” he pulled one of your hands to his lips and kissed it very gently.

It wasn’t long before morning rolled around. Reluctantly, you had agreed to let Vergil stay in the living room for the night and you sleep in the bedroom, alone.

You woke up freezing as you had grown accustomed to the broiling body heat of your lover. With a loud groaning yawn, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. As you walked to the bathroom, you felt a sudden sharp headache form.

Upon reaching the desired location, you noticed that the laminate countertop was cracked badly by Vergil gripping it.

“Shit,” you grumbled.

Your thoughts were cut off as you began feeling very off balance, leaning on the broken surface for support, before suddenly lurching forward into a kneel and throwing up in the toilet. During all your years of hunting, you knew what concussions felt like and this was definitely one of the worst ones you've ever had.

“Fu-uck,” you sighed with a scowl slowly emerging on your features.

Finishing up what you had originally gone in there to do--and making sure to brush and rinse the fuck out of your mouth--you left the room with a few painkillers in hand.

The house was uncharacteristically silent as you wobbly meandered your way to the kitchen. Once at the sink, you poured yourself a glass of water and took the pills. With your hands resting on the edge of the sink, you slowly drank the rest of the water; doing your best to stay upright. The lukewarm water only helped to highlight the growing pain in your throat.

“Are you alright?” a voice called from your right.

“Gah--!” you jumped slightly and dropped the cup in the sink--which was thankfully plastic. Then turned to see that it was Vergil, “You scared me, Vergil--" you took a deep breath trying to calm your heart, "I am fine, just a little sore is all.”

His face softened as he cautiously pulled you into a close hug, “I’m sorry--is there anything I can do to help?”

“This is exactly what I needed,” you leaned further into him and heard him purring quietly, “How are you doing, dear?”

Vergil had a small smile as he whispered, “Much better now that I am with you.”

The two of you held each other--swaying slightly--for what seemed like only mere seconds; when, in reality, it had been nearly a half hour.

Vergil nuzzled his cheek into the top of your head and spoke very quietly, “I hate to ruin the moment; however,” he pulled back from the hug enough to see you, “Dante requested us to come in early today.”

You raised a brow, “Why?”

“Morrison brought in a big contract; Dante requested that all of us be there for the briefing…” Vergil placed a hand on your face, not wanting to let you go.

“Mmn, suppose I need to get ready,” you leaned into his palm and closed your eyes, and sighed, leaning out of the hug, “Best not to be late again."

Both of you stood at the front door, debating on how you were getting to the DMC. Since you had a concussion, traveling with the Yamato was out of the question--last time you had traveled under the same circumstances, you almost threw up inside the portal and then proceeded to pass out once on the other side.

“You sure you’re alright with this? I can just call an Uber or something,” you folded your arms and raised a brow.

Vergil nodded, “I am fine with it; however if you aren’t then--”

“No- no, it's fine just,” you tried not to laugh, “never thought 'flying via devil' would be something I’d do.”

He grinned, “Perhaps we should travel this way more then.”

“And here I thought you only used your trigger for emergencies,” you playfully teased.

“This is an acceptable outlier,” Vergil laughed quietly.

With a bright flash of cornflower blue light, Vergil stood before you in his devil trigger.

A warm smile adorned your face as you approached the black and blue devil, "I never knew the devil was so handsome,” your voice was laced with sarcasm as you placed a hand on his cheek.

“Chivalry will get you nowhere, human, ” Vergil gently jested back, holding back a small laugh, “I will devour you whole.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” you dramatized your words; placing the back of your hand on your forehead and leaning back slightly, “Someone save me,” you did your best to stifle your laughter.

He wrapped his wings around you and looked downwards at your expression, “No one will take you from me, pet. ”

“I-” your lips were slightly agape as you tried to formulate a response--Vergil had never called you that before.

However, he spoke before you could come up with anything, “What? Devil got your tongue?” he leaned in close, breath washing over your lips.

“Mmn, no,” you moved your lips even closer to his, “I wish he did though.”

Vergil cautiously connected with your lips. You moved your hands to the dark reddish-brown underside of the leathery appendages and slowly ran your fingers along the grooves. This elicited a moan from your blue devil and made him push himself against you harder. His fingers were trembling as he ghosted them along your sides, catching your attention.

Breaking off the kiss but not moving away, you whispered against his lips, “You can touch me, Vergil. You won’t hurt me,” you used your hands to push his palms to your sides.

His pupils dilated slightly, “Are you--”

You cut him off with an aggressive kiss, placing your hand on his chest and kneading into him. Not wasting any more time, Vergil came back at you with an even more intense fervor. He pushed his tongue within the confines of your mouth. A muffled moan came from your lips as Vergil used his oral mastery inside your cavern; touching everything he could and playing with your tongue.

After a minute or two, you both broke apart from the kiss. You smiled widely at him and placed a long sweet smooch on the tip of his nose; making him scrunch a bit in confusion. The two of you stood holding one another for a few minutes before you broke the serene silence.

“We should probably get going,” you sighed, “otherwise we won’t be making it to work…”

The eldest son of Sparda sighed as well, “I suppose you are right…” he picked you up bridal style as you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, “Shall we?”

You nodded as he opened the door. A sudden cold wind shot right through you as you leaned in closer to the hot-blooded devil. It was raining quite heavily so Vergil shifted you to face him completely; sheltering you the best he could from the elements, holding you underneath your thighs. With a small grunt from the devil, you two were off into the air.

The flight wasn’t very long, you were at the DMC within a half hour; however, the rain had steadily gotten worse and made it a less-than-optimal flight. Vergil decided to land on the roof rather than risk being seen on the street and quickly ushered you indoors; fearing you would fall ill.

You took off your sopping wet coat and shook your head a bit, trying to dry off. Vergil had de-triggered and, because of how hot his devil trigger is, he was bone dry as he raised a brow at your “dog-like” actions.

“What?” you looked up at him, giving him a curious smile.

“Nothing,” he gave you a smirk in return.

The two of you came downstairs, Vergil went first as you followed. Upon entering the foyer, you noticed that Vergil wasn’t kidding when Dante said “everyone”. Said red devil, Nero, Trish, Lady, and even Nico were inside the Devil May Cry; all chatting amongst themselves.

The younger twin noticed you both on the stairs and flashed a wide grin, “Glad you both could make it! Thought maybe you were going to sleep in-- Ah,” a small dagger from Vergil jabbed Dante in the arm.

You pursed your lips and stifled your laughter, quietly speaking to Vergil, “Give me your coat? I’ll go hang it.”

He stared at you from the corner of his eye for a moment before doing as you asked; delicately handing you the dark navy clothing. Vergil moved towards the bar counter to converse with Nero as everyone else resumed their conversations. With a small spring to your step, you waltzed over to the hooks near the front door and hung both your jackets. Pivoting on your heels, you went to move back into the room when you were stopped by Dante.

The red devil stood in front of you and used his forefinger and thumb to turn your head upwards; revealing the bruising on your neck. An aggressive furrow appeared on his brow as he frowned intensely.

“Dante,” you whispered so that only he could hear you, “It’s not what you think--” his turquoise eyes locked with yours before he let go of your chin. It was too late.

He turned around, “Alright,” Dante’s voice was between serious and pissed-off, a tone that was highly unlike the high-spirited brother, “What the fuck.”

Vergil tilted his head ever-so-slightly and parted his lips in confusion, squinting at his twin.

Dante made his way across the room, you followed him and tried to get him to stop, but were unable as he spoke even louder than before, “What is wrong with you?!”

The blue devil’s face only became more confused as his eyes flicked between his brother and you.

The red devil shoved Vergil, “Answer me, Vergil!”

Fearing that the two would escalate into a larger fight, you grabbed one of Dante’s arms and tugged him away, straining your sore voice, “Dante you don’t understand-”

Dante turned to you, “I think I know strangle marks when I see them,” his eyes went back to Vergil, “I'm tired of not saying anything.”

With a slight sharpness, Vergil closed his eyes and scrunched his face, “What are you talking about?”

“Don't play stupid,” Dante raised his voice even louder with a slight growl, “You think that I didn’t notice? Everyone here has noticed--fuck,” he flung his arm out, gesturing at nothing in particular, “even Morrison asked me about it!”

“What does--”

Dante's voice was unbearably loud as he yelled at his older brother, "You're fucking beating your husband, Vergil!”

The shop went silent. At this point, Nero had moved toward the couch the three ladies were sitting on, awaiting Vergil’s response.

Your eyes widened at Dante and the absurd notion he had brought forth. Knowing Dante as you do, you had figured he was going to jab at Vergil for "being too rough in bed" or something stupid--not domestic abuse. With a slightly furrowed brow, you turned to the group next to you, then back to the brothers, and noticed Vergil’s pale stare.

Vergil huffed quietly through his nose as he looked downwards, pursing his lips in thought. After a moment, he looked back up at Dante with a cold glare, "Do you really think that lowly of me, Dante?"

Dante cocked his head to the side, his voice still laced with a growl, "You know, after what you've done? Sorry, but I wouldn't put it past you."

Vergil’s face was barren of any emotion--to everyone else besides you, that is. You’ve been in a relationship long enough with the stone-faced slayer that it was painfully obvious how much Dante’s accusation hurt him. Unable to think of what to say, he just stood there and glared at his twin.

"I ain't letting this go, Vergil. I'll stand here all fuckin--" a loud crack of thunder cut Dante off as the power went out in the shop.

You weren't sure what happened, but the next thing you knew, you were on the floor and a sin-triggered Vergil was encompassing your surroundings. It was overwhelmingly hot as you felt his wings and arms tighten around you, pushing you further into his chest. The blue-grey devil shook wildly as a continuous thunderous growl emanated from deep within his chest. At any other point, it would have been a nice feeling; however, the loud sounds, sweltering heat, and the bright blue light from his chest made your headache turn from bad to agonizing.

Through the loud rumbling, you could vaguely make out Dante speaking; something about Vergil overreacting. Then you felt Vergil shift slightly and heard a loud yelp from the younger twin. There was a loud shuffling of hasty movement from the couch beside the two of you which made Vergil snarl even louder.

Lady could be heard telling Dante to “back off” of (presumably) Vergil. You then a loud creak of the garage door being opened and more shuffling feet. The last thing you heard from the rest of the crew was Nero saying something unintelligible and shutting the door. Leaving Vergil and you alone in the foyer.

This was the first time Vergil had done something like this and you were unsure how to calm him down; so you just slowly wriggled your hand free and kneaded into the bright blue lines of your lover’s chest, “Hey,” you whispered in hopes of catching his attention, “It’s alright, Vergil.”

His growling quieted a bit, however, his grip tightened into an almost painfully tight vice.

A small grunting groan left your lips as you spoke again, “Vergil, we are okay. I’m okay,” you heard his growling subside further, “It’s okay, darling. We are safe, inside the Devil May Cry,” you leaned your head into his chest and kneaded harder against him, “It was just thunder. It’s okay--we are okay.”

You continued to intermittently tell the blue devil various forms of grounding statements as he slowly calmed down; loosening his grip and quieting his thundering growl. Although he doesn’t have to breathe when in this form, you heard soft whistling as he took small short breaths in through his sharpened teeth. His shaking had subsided as well; only moving with the reverberations of his small breaths.

A grin tugged at your lips as you heard a small distant start of a purr from your kneading, “It’s alright, my love. Nothing is going to harm us…”

Finally, he pulled back from your body. He placed his palms flat on the floor next to you and kept his wings around you, just much looser now. His pupil-less luminescent eyes just stared at you, leaving you to assume he was looking over your body for any sign of injury.

Very carefully, you moved your hands to the sides of his face and gently thumbed over the leathery denim-colored skin, “Hey…”

He leaned forward placing his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, showing you that he was coming back around. You placed a long tender kiss against his fangs and heard him purr louder.

As quiet as he could manage with his distorted voice, Vergil whispered to you, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you smiled and gently jested, “head’s killin’ me though and the floors kinda cold” you laughed and moved your hands to the gap of skin between his shoulder pauldrons and neck, kneading with your fingers, “Are you alright, Vergil?”

Vergil nodded slightly, “Yes,” feeling the soft touch of your fingers against him, he allowed himself to de-trigger; slowly switching to his regular trigger and then his human form. All the while, you continued to massage his shoulders and tried your best to ignore the throbbing in your skull; wanting nothing more than to rip your head off.

The blue devil’s breath was ragged and he avoided looking you in the eyes. When he went to sit upwards, you grabbed his forearms, gaining his attention, “Vergil,” your voice was barely audible.

After waiting a moment, Vergil cocked his head slightly, “What is it?”

“Could,” you pursed your lips with embarrassment, “Could you help me up?”

Vergil nodded, “Of course.”

The eldest twin stood up and then leaned forwards to help you upright. You stumbled into him as you felt nauseously lightheaded.

Noticing this, Vergil held one of your arms, “Steady…”

You used your other hand to grab his shoulder and did your best to adjust to standing. He looked over to the couch and then back to you; before slowly picking you up and setting you on the pleather surface. Not wanting him to leave you, you grabbed his tie and tugged it slightly.

“I will be right back,” he grabbed the hand from the tan fabric and kissed it gently; which surprised you because of his distaste for out-of-house affections.

It was then that you noticed how quiet the shop was and how dark it was; the power had gone out completely. A loud creak from the garage door made you scrunch your face in slight pain. Vergil stood in the doorway and said nothing before moving back to stand near Dante’s desk.

You noticed a large cut through Dante’s shirt and realized that Vergil had used his tail to defend you from the red twin. Thankfully, Dante could heal quickly otherwise it might have been a trip to the ER from how large the incision seemed to be.

“So care to explain what the fuck that was?” Dante’s voice was loud, as normal; however, it felt like he was shouting right beside you.

Vergil noticed your discomfort and addressed his brother, “Quiet, you are being much too loud,” he flicked his gaze to you, “and no; I don’t.”

The younger twin’s face scrunched in irritation. Before he could speak, Lady cut him off by roughly slamming her hand atop his shoulder, “Maybe the two of you should go home for the day? Dante can text you the information later on.”

“Are you sure?” Vergil raised a brow at the sudden personable suggestion, “Or would Dante rather yell more absurd accusations at me?”

The red devil growled, forgetting to keep quiet, “You son of--”

“Watch your tongue. Mother is right here,” he flicked his eyes to the photo on Dante’s desk.

“I fuckin--”

You scrunched your face harshly and hoarsely snapped, “Oh my g-god,” you groaned, “Vergil isn’t beating me and I have a fuckin major headache. I thank you for your concern Dante, but it is misplaced… so can you please just drop it?”

The younger twin shook his head, “You expect me to--”

“It is a result of my night terrors and we are dealing with it ourselves,” Vergil said curtly, despite not wanting to talk about it. Then turned to address Lady, “I think we will take you up on that suggestion and leave,” the blue devil moved to grab your coats from the wall “Keep us informed..?"

No one responded as Vergil handed you your coat and you put it on as best you could while sitting. You wobbled a bit as you went to stand, but, a set of strong arms picked you up. A small blush found its way to your face as you realized Vergil was carrying you from underneath your thighs in front of everyone else.

Nero was the only one to address either of you as you headed up to the stairs, “Fly safe; winds pretty bad out there.”

Vergil nodded in thanks to his son as the two of you disappeared from view, heading to the roof. You nestled your face into the crook of Vergil’s neck, taking a deep calming breath. It didn’t take long for you to sleep--or rather pass out--in the blue devil’s arms and it stayed that way till you got home.

When you opened your eyes next, you were laying underneath the duvet of your shared bed. Slowly blinking awake, you mumbled, “Vergil?” and felt around to see if he was nearby. Nothing.

A hissing groan left your lips as you sat up and looked at the alarm clock. It had been several hours since you left the shop. You stretched upwards and immediately regretted it.

“Fuck,” you groaned as you grabbed your head with one hand, the headache from earlier surged back into existence.

In hopes to remedy this, you decided to try taking a hot bath. The moment you stood up, however, you fell forwards and just barely caught yourself with your forearms. A small laugh of disbelief escaped through your painful groan, it was really just not your day.

The sound of a familiar sharp voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. You slowly moved your head upwards and saw Vergil standing above you with a wide-eyed confused stare. He was wearing a space-blue sleeveless turtleneck with black yoga pants.

Admittedly, you weren’t exactly in a normal headspace when you cooed at the blue devil, “Ooh! You’re even prettier at this angle, Vergil.”

The blue devil crouched in front of you and rested his forearms on his legs, “I leave you for five minutes and you end up on the floor?”

With parted lips and raised brows, you eyed him up and down, “Was my plan all along since, from here, I get a really good view of your--”

Vergil put up a hand telling you to stop, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, “Would you like help up?”

“Nah,” you jested and rolled over to face the ceiling, “I like being stuck on the floor,” a sly smirk tugged at your lips as you tilted your head back, “especially when we’re--”

“Enough,” Vergil sighed and moved to help you upright into a soft embrace.

You sighed and leaned into him, “You know I love you, right Vergil?”

“Perhaps I should take you to the hospital, you are acting in a very concerning manner…”

“No way in hell am I going to the doctor,” you pulled back and had a small pout on your lips, “I just need you beside me and I feel much better…”

“That seems rather counter-intuitive, don’t you think?” his voice had an outlying tinge of sadness as he looked down at you.

“Not in the slightest. In fact,” you moved your hands to his chest, “I already am starting to feel better in your arms.”

He avoided your eyes and had a small sad frown. A deep sharp pang of sadness stabbed at your heart at seeing him look so dejected.

You used a hand to cup the cheek facing away from you and gently turned him back to face you, “Vergil, care to join me for a bath?” you knew that he was still beating himself up over things and wanted to distract him for a while.

A soft huffed laugh came from his nose as he closed his eyes in slight confusion, “What..?”

“Come on, you need a break… to relax,” you cocked your head to the side, “Please?” you gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

Which seemed to do the trick as he sighed with a smirk “If that is what you want then I will accompany you.”

You pulled his face down to yours and gave him a small peck on the cheek, “Thank you, Vergil.”

Although the blue devil was hesitant to let you go, you eventually wander off with a very wobbly saunter. Slowly, you moved to the dresser and began to grab some clothing when you heard Vergil murmur, “I’ll go draw it up and I’ll be back for you; please try and stay upright,” then he left the room.

Your headache had subsided for the most part and was just a dull throbbing now. However, you still wanted to lay with him for a while, knowing that he needed it as much as you did. A warm smile crept its way to your face as you moved toward the edge of the bed to sit until he came back. You decided to lean over to the side table and grab your phone, checking it for any messages. Surprisingly, Dante and Nero had texted you.

The younger twin had sent a rather all-over-the-place paragraph explaining that he was sorry for the outburst in the shop and that he was just worried that something was going on. You sent Dante a text explaining that it was nice of him to worry but that, before he goes off, he needs to listen better.

Nero was making sure that both of you were alright and that if either of you needed anything to let him know.

Before you were able to respond, Vergil walked back into the room, “Are you ready?” his voice was very quiet and meek; catching you off guard.

“Yeah just gimme one second, just gotta send this…” Vergil looked at you with a slightly curious head tilt, you smiled at him, “Nero was just making sure everything was okay.”

“I see,” Vergil gave a weak grin.

“Nero’s worried about you,” you set the phone back down on the table and grabbed one of Vergil’s hands, “He’s a good kid, ya know? You’re one lucky dad.”

With a small shake of his head, Vergil pulled you off the bed, “Need I remind you that he is technically your son, too?”

You laughed and pursed your lips, “Sometimes I forget that part if I’m honest,” the two of you slowly made your way to the bathroom, “Especially since we are like the same age--you cougar,” with a playful wink you let go of Vergil’s hand to get undressed.

Vergil’s face scrunched, “You make it sound as if I am too old for you.”

Playfully, you shoved his shoulder, “Bah- you don’t look a day over 30; besides,” you paused a moment as you watched Vergil remove his shirt, “I like older men~”

“Those two statements contradict each other,” he noticed your gaze as he slid his pants off, “However, I appreciate the sentiment.”

Once you both were fully stripped, Vergil helped you into the tub; fearing you would fall, “Hey, Vergil..?” he looked at you, “Can you sit in, like,” with pursed lips, you tried to figure out how to explain what you wanted, “in my lap? Like with your back to me?”

“I-” he raised a brow and turned his lips to a thin line, ��May I ask why?”

A smile ghosted your face as you cooed, “I want to be able to play with your hair.”

The blue devil was a little apprehensive at allowing such an action, but he did as you requested; positioning himself in front of you. His shoulders tensed up at the sudden feeling of vulnerability and being so exposed to you--even if the two of you have been together for a long time now. Noticing this, you gently wrapped your arms around his middle and leaned him back into you while you leaned back yourself; ending up in a semi-lying position.

Tenderly, you ran your fingers through his neatly slicked back locks, “You alright, Vergil?”

With a small stuttering inhale, Vergil rested further against you, “Yes…”

A faint purring came from the blue devil as he relaxed against your touch. The two of you just sat in the warm soapy water for nearly fifteen minutes, laying against each other.

Vergil shifted a bit to lay the side of his head on your chest before meekly whispering, “I love you,” typically, this would have made you ecstatic hearing him say such a thing; but there was an underlying sullen tone to the phrase.

You moved one of your hands to grab his while keeping up your ministrations through his hair, “I love you too, Vergil--more than anything.”

“May I ask you something? And I want you to answer me honestly,” his eyes were glued to your fingers that were intertwined with his own.

“Sure,” you removed your fingers from his hair and set that hand on his shoulder.

“Are,” with each word his voice became quieter, “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” you answered without skipping a beat, “I will never be afraid of you, no matter what...”

Another bout of silence fell as you felt him lean harder into you while taking slow deep breaths.

“May--,” the Dark Slayer closed his eyes and spoke in a hushed voice, “May I confide in you for a moment?”

“Of course, my love,” you leaned and kissed the top of his head attempting to reassure the man.

He sighed and turned further into your chest, hiding his face, “N-Nothing scares me more than causing you pain,” you felt his brow furrow, “These past few months, have been spurred on by a combination of that fear and,” he had a lump begin to form in his throat, “and my time spent under Mundus’s…” he swallowed audibly in an attempt to deter his emotions.

You squeezed his hand tightly and you moved your other hand back to his hair, hoping to console him a bit.

Which worked, he took a shuddering breath and continued, “In my dreams--” he pursed his lips and unintentionally pushed himself as hard as he could into you, “I’m always back as- and I can’t,” he paused once more, realizing that this is much harder than he had anticipated, “control myself and I-I don’t know that it’s-- until it’s too late,” his voice cracked into silence as he gripped your hand in a vice hold.

That was enough for you to put together what he meant as your eyes widened. You whispered and moved your hand from his hair to his shoulder, holding him close, “Vergil…” you didn’t know what to do--how to help him.

All you could think to do was to hold him close and comfort him as he cried into your chest. You knew that he had nightmares about his time of being enslaved to Mundus and the other atrocities that have happened to the poor blue devil. Throughout your time together, Vergil had told you about that time and has even sought comfort in you when he was upset.

A meek whisper pulled you from your thoughts, “I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “I know this is substandard behavior.”

“Vergil,” you kneaded his bicep, “This is normal behavior, you don’t have to be strong all the time,” placing a soft kiss on the top of his head, you murmured, “You’re human--you have emotions; both good and bad.”

“I feel as if I have disappointed you,” despite his sad tone, a light purring could be heard from him--indicating he was at least comfortable.

“You could never disappoint me, Vergil--especially over something like this. Things take time to heal and even then they still leave scars; you aren’t to blame for what has happened, my love.”

“I do not understand how after what I have done in my lifetime,” his voice cracked with a tinge of frustration as he sat upright. His front side was facing out of the tub toward the innards of the room, leaving you to see his side profile, “Why you still believe me to be a good person…”

“Vergil,” you moved to sit up as well, no longer resting your back on the tub, “I don’t believe that you are a good person; I know you are a good person,” you watched his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed his emotions again, “I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”

A thin pained grin adorned his features as he turned his face from you; hiding the fact he had begun to cry once more.

“People do bad things,” you shrugged your shoulders a bit in thought, “that doesn’t make them a bad person. Traumatic experiences make people do things that otherwise might not have.” you paused and thought for a moment, “Vergil, you have been punished ten-fold by everyone your entire life, even for things that you had no control over. Which is total shit. You deserve to be treated well and like a living breathing person. I know you are a good person because you have shown me that many times over; you are worthy of love, Vergil.”

Vergil let out a loud shuttering exhale and turned his head to look at you with pursed lips. He wanted to say something, anything, but all he could muster was a small whimper of acknowledgment.

Moving to your knees, you spoke softly, “Is there anything that I can do to help you with these nightmares?”

“I,” after a small pause in thought, he turned to come face to face with you and grabbed your hands in his, “Could you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“If we get into any altercations with,” he avoided your eyes with an increasing embarrassment eating the edges of his mind, “Angelo-type demons, please, leave them to me; please..?”

Your brow twitched in confusion as you cocked your head to the side; that’s when things clicked and you remembered what happened shortly before these terrors began, “Sure, if that is what brings you solace then I will,” you smiled, trying to make him feel a little better.

“Thank you,” his eyes re-connected with yours and he gave a small smirk.

The two of you sat for a brief moment before you pursed your lips and smiled semi-awkwardly, “I hate to ruin the moment, but could we get out of the water? I’m kinda cold…”

Vergil straightened his posture and nodded, “Of course, wanderer,” he moved to get out of the water and held his hands out for yours.

You grabbed them and wobbly got up, “Oh? I haven’t heard you use that in a long time.”

A small huffed laugh came from the blue devil as he handed you a towel, “It was the first nickname I gave you. I thought it appropriate for the moment…”

“It was wasn’t it?” you shook your head, “That feels like a lifetime ago…”

“In a sense, it was quite literally,” he leaned over and drained the tub.

With a small laugh and nod, you finished drying off. While the two of you got dressed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your lover.

“Is something wrong?” Vergil noticed your stare.

Pursing your lips you thought for a moment and decided to indulge in his love for Blake’s poems, “ 'Joy & Woe are woven fine,/A Clothing for the Soul divine;/Under every grief & pine,/Runs a joy with silken twine.' "

An amused look adorned his face as he stood with parted lips thinking for a moment, “Auguries of Innocence?” the Dark Slayer cupped the side of your face, “We never did finish that poem; you’d always fall asleep.”

“Not my fault you have such a soothing voice,” you placed your hands on his chest and leaned into his palm, “Want to try again?”

He leaned against your forehead, “If it is alright with you, I think I’d rather sleep…”

“Only if you stay beside me,” you looked into his icy eyes; enamored with the thousands of different blue-grey hues, “please..?”

“Are you sure-- Mnm,” he was cut off by a sudden connection of your lips.

It was a slow and passionate kiss as you poured all the love you could into that one moment. Once satisfied, you left the kiss and whispered against his lips, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Vergil.”

Without another word, he picked you up and took you into the bedroom. Carefully, he set you down and crawled into bed with you. A small lingering sense of dread crept in from the edges of his mind; however, those were pushed away when you laid atop his chest. You curled into him and he tangled his limbs with yours.

As the two of you drifted off to sleep, Vergil had a very small content grin as he allowed himself to sleep; knowing that, at least for tonight, his terrors will be kept at bay.

Ending Notes: Sorry that was lowkey all over the place, I just went with the flow of my brain. It kind of just ended up being a long fluff fic. Also to add some explanation to Vergil’s bit where he swore and freaked out: I figure that when Vergil lost his autonomy for so long as Nelo Angelo, he ended up becoming hyper-aware of what he is doing at all times. So when he does something that he either can’t remember doing or didn’t want to do that it would send him into a panic; fearing that he is going to lose his freedom again. 🛡️⚔️🛡️ Poem quoted: Auguries of Innocence: William Blake

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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dykedragonrider · 11 months

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I'm gonna bend the rules a bit and merge two of the FE questions together because I think they're more interesting hand in hand.

32 and 26: What direction do you wish the series would take, and what would your pitch be for the first title to go in that direction?

I want to see them lean harder into strategy, or at least give us reasons to not juggernaut. I ain't good at designing games yet so this'll be a fun thought exercise.

Smaller cast of units with greater distinction between units. Units are locked in their class (unless they have like, story promotion stuff idk), they have personal skills and stats that give them specific niches in their class. Maybe someone has Adept and high speed as a Mercenary but another has Pavise, so you have one that is really really good at killing shit, and another who's a tank and spank unit for an example. They feel distinct from each other, and one has the overkill combat that makes them good with priority targets while the other has the ability to handle multiple enemies well to buy time/create space. This is probably the biggest departure as we haven't really had a game that did this imo.

More challenges that aren't just about your stats. Status staves, enemy packs with reaver weapons, packs vulnerable to strong effectives, somewhat open maps, things that allow you to engage with the maps differently. Maps that aren't straight lines but have multiple options for egress and reasons to use those options based on your available tools are great!

Inventory items that give stat bonuses. These were a really good thing that allowed for flexibility to hit benchmarks that we saw in Gaiden, FE4, SOV, Houses, and sort of Engage that added legitimately meaningful depth in the kind of solutions to problems you could find. They can be "win more" things which sucks I won't deny that, but I also value their flexibility too much to really dislike them.

So, with that, I'll try my hand at a pitch.

Your lord is a staff unit. This means that designing things can be done around you *always* having a utility unit and you can be expected to use/react to enemy magic accordingly. You've got a prepromote wyvern who'll be good at combat for a while, and as their combat worsens their utility as a mobility tool is a much more relevant reason to use them. Motley cast goes forth from there, I just think those two things are legitimately interesting ideas to me I want to explore more.

As for story, I've got the least expertise here but... Let's say our main lord haaaates fighting and is optimistic about people. That's why they prefer to disable their foes, heal or protect their allies, that's why they're a staffer. Give them a personal weapon to reflect that, too. There's a background war going on that the lord doesn't get involved in for a while but you *feel* it as you're recruiting your early playable cast (maybe your lord is on some personal mission and your prepromote is their escort. Could have some knight/liege yuri there idk I like that). Townspeople talk about what they've lost along the way because of the war, some people are displaced by it and you can help them out on maps for rewards, etc. Eventually, the cast ends up fighting one of the factions in the war, the other comes to reinforce on that map, and *that's* when the story picks up, as the cast is thrown into the deep end of it. Your lord is convinced to help one faction end the war, and they reluctantly agree because they think it's the best way to stop the fighting because they can't just stay out of it. Things proceed as normal for FE, but there's a greater emphasis on the civilian cost of war along the way, because your lord *wants* to help the people that are hurting because it's their nature. And they're getting *so* tired of what they're hearing, but they keep going on, because at this point that's all they can do. Help those who are hurting, and end the war. Unsurprisingly, the war came about because of the Problem Dragon, who you learn more about the chapters before you fight them. Maybe this dragon is why your lord is on their quest, they wanted to find them? Uncertain about that plot thread especially, but either way they need to in some way be sympathetic or redeemable for one reason or another. Not just because I think that these games are at their best when there is some tragedy with the dragon, but because the lord needs *some* reason to have their faith in the goodness of people be what carries them through this conflict. Maybe they get exploited for it throughout it, maybe they didn't, idk how I'd wanna frame that but the point needs to be them *giving a damn* about people is what lets them end this (yeah I like Idunn, how did you know).

In short, small ragtag cast with a focus on the lord primarily (most other people are there just supporting them) tempering their perception of reality but not letting it get them down. It's a coming of age for them, but they keep their sense of hope for the world because the kindness they showed to others and got back in turn is what enabled them to survive. You need some genuine darkness for that light to show probably, but it needs to be a story about making a difference in other people's lives and how important that is, no matter how small.

#fire emblem #my thoughts here are heavily influenced by my favorite titles in the series or genre #thracia. sacred stones. tellius. fates. engage. berwick saga.#also a little bit of this really neat unfinished hack i played that's been fantastic so far #it's called cerberus and it's super charming! it's very focused on the main lord and she's a treat #please give it a go it's on feuniverse #trustywusty

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

Text

Ch 25 - Dragons VS Dragons

Part 26

Fire OF A Stark

@dragonixfrye

Maxon Hill (Baratheon) is a new added on OC. Since we only know a few of Robert's bastards I decided to make my own enjoy.

Months Later

Clutching my stomach I groaned laying back in the bed In our room in Casterly Rock. My white hair falling in a mess over my shoulders. We had gotten to the rock a few weeks after we had learned I was pregnant with Jaime’s child. Someone knocked on the door before they peaked their head inside. “My Lady Lannister?”

“Come in, Ser Hill.” I waved my hand motioning for the bastard to enter the room. Jaime had hired the former blacksmith boy as my personal knight for protection.

He was only sixteen so a year younger than me now in my life. My husband was always busy trying to learn the ropes of being the lord of a castle even though for his entire life almost he was sworn to only ever be a knight of the Kingsguard. Jaime would only send him up if he had news for me or to have him check on the baby. “I have news today my lady and he wishes to know what the Maester said.”

“Please Maxon, call me Lynesse. It’s just easier for the both of us.” I corrected the now appointed knight seeing that Jaime and I trusted his word. He had actually helped in making a place for Joanna to sleep in one of the towers of the rock that had an open area underneath it.

Maxon nodded his head simply making his dark brown curls fall in front of his eyes. “Of course, Lady Lynesse.”

“Well I think it will be easier if we just go see him together instead of you running back and forth through the castle. So help me up please.” I groaned sitting up as much as I could manage.

Maxon quickly moved forward trying to fight me until I sent him a stern look. "My lord won't like that you are trying to move too much…uh nevermind." He wrapped his arms around my waist while I grabbed his forearm while I grabbed my cloak I shrugged it over my shoulders following him outside our chambers.

Moving through the hallways of Casterly Rock I could hear the waves crashing against it. I wasn't wearing my crown but my white hair was visible to everyone in these walls. A few staff passed us in the hallway before I pushed open a door seeing Jaime leaning over a large table that looked to be a battlefield. Closing the door behind me he lifted his gaze up from the table. "Lynesse, you should be in bed."

"I can't be bed ridden for long, Jaime. Maxon informed me that you have news about something so I thought I'd come to you." I explained walking around the table I took his left hand in mine meeting his green gaze on me.

He squeezed my hands in his wearing a loose white tunic and red trousers. I was wearing one of his red tunics with some trousers not bothering with dresses unless we were ever asked back at Kings Landing or somewhere else important. "My sister sent a letter demanding we help her take on the Dragon queen from across the sea. Somehow she discovered the truth about you and will send the Hound on us if we don't help her."

"We have control of the Lannister army. The only reason she needs us or really you is because she doesn't have the amount of Kingsguard to aid her." Leaning my hands on the table I could figure out what was really happening to us. Cersei was still jealous and even though she knew we were together until one of us died then she would have to take other measures. "I'm going with you. If she wants to fight against a dragon then I would ride Joanna and challenge her."

Jaime raised his hand concern written all over his face about me being anywhere near such danger like a battlefield. “Lynesse it is too reckless with you being pregnant to go riding into battle on dragon back. I want you to stay here with Maxon.”

“Jaime, I will not stay here and be a bump on a log. Yes I am pregnant but that doesn’t mean I can’t ride alongside you. Plus you know you can’t stop me once I call for Joanna!” I declare turning my hands into fists at my sides holding my head up high.

He sighed heavily looking in the direction of Maxon who was standing by the door. “Saddle Joanna for my wife. And ready the army for the ships to leave tonight. We head for Kings Landing.” He left the room leaving us alone in the room staring at each other.

“I want you to promise me something, little dragon. If it gets too risky you get our baby out of here. Promise me.” He begged me resting a hand on my cheek and his golden hand on my waist.

Nodding my head slowly I put my hand over his left knowing he was completely worried about me. He still hasn’t said I love you yet and neither have I but we were terrified that something may happen to the other. “I promise, Jaime. But it won’t come to that.” The trip back to the city was even harder since I got a lot sicker yet we had the army waiting in an open field waiting for whatever army this supposed dragon queen had with her.

Resting a hand over Joanna’s nose I watched my husband ride up on the white commander horse wearing dark golden armor. He had given me a set of gray armor but my growing belly didn’t make it easy to wear. My hair was loose with some of it braided back. I didn’t know war strategy even when Robb was still alive. “You know your signal is right. Remember to stick to what I told you.”

“Wait up on the hills out of sight unless we get signs of another dragon - ugh here we go girl.” I told him grunting as I climbed on Joanna’s back leaning against her head trying to catch my breath. “Jaime, come back to me…to us.”

He nodded, kicking the white horse in the belly. “Take care of her, Joanna.”

Kicking her in her side with my legs she launched herself up into the clouds turning around on her back then hiding us behind one of the tall hills still with a good view of the army. Squinting my eyes tightly I could see some form of people on horseback charging at the army. But they seemed crazier than the one we had knowing that we were in trouble. Resting a hand to my stomach I knew Jaime could handle them until a familiar shriek came from the skies making me curse under my breath. “Seven hells. There really is another Dragon.”

Joanna made a noise seeing the same creature I do. Shifting my gaze down to the ground I had Joanna shoot up into the sky seconds before the other Targaryen girl set them on fire. Flying through the clouds I saw our army had brought the giant crossbows. Men were screaming before I lifted my head up seeing the girl riding her dragon burning a section of wagons turning everything into a bloodbath underneath us. She nearly hit Jaime until I had my dragon bolt in her direction shouting in Valyrian. “Draycrays!”

The dragon girl swung her dragon out of the way avoiding my attack. She flew up higher seeing me and Joanna before she blew fire at us. Gripping her scales my dragon does a flip in a barrel roll just as I felt pain hit me in my back with the baby. Clutching my stomach I kicked her accidentally where she set fire to some of the lion soldiers. “Joanna no…Joanna…agh!” I gripped her tugging her in the opposite direction, getting her to land a few feet away seeing most of the stuff on fire.

“Lynesse, is it really you?” Wiping my head around I recognized the voice screaming and dragon shrieking fading off.

Joanna hissed low under her breath while I couldn’t believe to see the familiar dwarf near us. “Tyrion?”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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providencehq · 1 year

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With the reveal of the Black Pawns actually being robots, what did you think that said of BK's leadership style vs WK's leadership style? Also, do you think she incorporated some aspects of herself into them? Like, fighting styles and personality traits; watching "Assault on Abysus" had me hyperfixated on that one Black Pawn with a speaking role. That one, at least, made me think of a younger BK, more easily frustrated and with the need to succeed without additional help.

Man, your brain. Thinking things I would have never esp in regards to Black Knight. You seemed to have nailed on the head of my personal headcanon when it comes to her: her leadership style is vastly different from White Knight but it seems more so from an internal force rather than external and it radically shapes their ideals and how it plays out into their leadership styles and let me explain. (Edit as I finish writing this, very rambly, I think I repeat points many times)

Black Knight is seen constantly as a need to control, something, anything whether it is as openly as Providence or as lowkey (more so indirectly but still having her hand in the pie as the saying goes) in regards to the initial Nanite research group. This need to have control and in essence power can stem from who knows where. We as viewers never get that chance to actually dwell into her past like we were able to in a degree with White Knight. I personally make the assumption due to what we do see of her of being a fairly rash, quick tempered, and take/make an opening to get the smallest step ahead as a result not having power in her life to some degree when she was younger. Black Knight has to make opportunities to get power rather than what seems to be willingly handed with White Knight in comparison. (I can and would talk about my headcanons about young BK here but that is long and lengthy and I feel like little evidence to support from the show but know my ideas about her and her relationship with whatever happened to young her is basically rivalry based and feeling lesser.) She kills a member of the Consortium who more or less challenged her and made it seemed like she was a means to an end (for the Consortium) because she wasn't viewed as an equal. Questioning of her role, her power, her knowledge is a threat to her and the ability to control herself.

But here's the thing! She's a really, really shit leader for Providence. We know she's rash, manipulative (yay! go gaslight, gatekeep girlbosscore for her). She can't lead like White Knight does. Here's the thing, White Knight, questionable at times with his leadership skills but he's commanding a massive, multibase operation over many years and he makes tough calls. He commands forces, he gets information, he's actively working on trying to better the world whether the cure is feasible or not. He was forced into a position of power by happenstance but he takes in stride and understands that his leadership hinges on the survival of humanity, cure or not. WK has a tough job he has good reigns on the whole of Providence.

What does Black Knight do? Clearly struggle through keeping Providence under any semblance of control in comparison. She has lost it's more or less elite force when Rex went a little MIA there for a few months and clearly she can't keep things in Providence under control unless every aspect it seemingly controlled by her. The Black Rooks, her elite guards (I don't think all of them are androids just... most. I like to think she managed to have a few actual human elite running around) ARE FUCKING ANDROIDS! SHE CONTROLS THEM FULLY! Programmed to obey (and clearly be more prone to violence and generally extreme tactics which uh, wonder who programmed them to be like that!?) But to get onto that point of her ask, I see it's a very reasonable jump to make that she included aspects in herself in the androids. She needs something that she can rely on, that she can understand what move they'll make next, that understand the objective. Time after time we see she can't rely on anyone but herself to get after her true goal of just control (over Providence, Rex, EVOs, nanites, Consortium, the human body, life and death itself) why would she program her elite to not have a similar mindset to herself? Basically disposable extensions of herself. But I like the idea of her incorporating her fighting style with them, I will be crafting ideas in my head for that for a bit. Gonna let that idea simmer in the brain pot of headcanons.

Also back onto the whole internal verses external forces causes her leadership to be super wonky and insightful in comparison to White Knight. White Knight is more or less driven, yes to an extent the Consortium, but mostly by to be in power. A goal that all of humanity can overcome or bare with the nanites. Dude is pessimistic, makes choices that could easily in the blink of an eye end millions of lives (like bleaching a city), and manipulates/misleads people to get closer to a cure. But it's all for that chance for a cure, for Providence to come out on top, for humanity to survive fully! He has the support of Providence, large portions of the population, Rex and Six and Holiday, to make the hard decisions for humanity. To make decisions with that kind of gravity can't be done lightly and there's trust in his leadership and decisions even if they suck from Providence on multiple levels.

Black Knight doesn't have this trust. We as the audience are missing a lot of information from those six months Rex was gone but Black Knight is in charge now and things are weird and bad. The lack of trust with Black Knight being in charge can come from so many angles: new leadership, discontent from the public and Providence workers as a whole, the loss of many of their assets without an effective replacement. But I lean towards she won't trust down the ranks in Providence. She sees herself as higher than everyone else in Providence and won't let anyone be an equal. Research? She knows best. EVO containment and control? She knows best. The direction of Providence? Don't worry, she knows what to do. Her need of control is her downfall for leadership, her suspected inability to have Providence soldiers/rooks be completely under her thumb with her decisions led her to make her androids that would follow her orders instead. (Which brings into question, what was something she asked them to do that they wouldn't cross the line of? WK was going to bleach a city, costing countless lives, what could be worse than that? Providence before WK was pretty casual about child vivisection so who knows! Maybe refusal to accept a new leader simply, esp head of Providence.) Black Knight's leadership is stemming from her need to control, a pressing internal force is seemingly every choice she makes. She's selfish and it shows how she heads towards goals with Providence as the vessel and man! is it shit! It's just a massive shitshow barely holding together!!!

Black Knight is ahhhhh! She's so focus driven on herself and her goal of control in whatever means and it's so clear she's basically a kid who wants power but doesn't actually know how to handle it. She's nothing like White Knight no matter how she tries to emulate him when she's running Providence. She wants power but she doesn't know how to handle it. She fumbles through the steps of being a leader and yes, members of Providence question her, but she's still there, leading it! It isn't until placing her directly up and against White Knight do you really see it! Their fight is such a great analogy for how they run Providence. White Knight prepares, plants ahead, has backup plans, and knows what he's up against verses Black Knight who lashes out, has to pull a plan out her ass, and thinks she knows what she's up against by personal history but not through technical knowledge and it fucks her in the end.

Ahhhhh! the parallels! THE PARALLELS!!!!!!!!!!

#this is uh.... wildly rambley i am so sorry #generator rex #white knight #black knight #bk: sorry used providence as a means to my end goal for power and being cool and becoming a god at a cost of providence and humanity #wk: you fucked up a perfectly good organization! look! you gave it corruption!#bk is a frustrated child who probably got the short end of the stick and was always second best and in adulthood tried to prove she wasn't #second best only to be proven time and time again she was so she forced her way into being the best no matter what

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gear-project · 1 year

Text

GG and My Thoughts moving Forward:

I've been thinking about writing down some of my thoughts and feelings about this game saga for some time now...

I've been playing this game series since 1998... and there's a lot of things that, I don't think a lot of people realize about this series that often get glossed over and overlooked.

When I think of "The Missing Link" my earliest thoughts are about the sheer grittiness the series emitted.

The rough sketchy artwork, the crudeness and roughness of some of the characters (Potemkin, Sol, even Kliff had a very down-to-earthiness and intensity that you wouldn't see as often in modern character designs).

It wasn't about sexy or attractive characters... it was about warriors fighting in a tournament... with odd weapons, odd character misfit designs, and a very unique "darkness" that permeated the story.

Assassins, a Psycho Killer, a Ninja, Knights who fought in a bloody war... these are the kinds of characters that appeared in the first fighting game.

There were a few contrasts, of course... a wandering Time Traveler, a child orphan girl with superhuman strength, a one-armed Samurai.

This collective roster, combined with the very intense music, fast-paced combat, and visuals, brought a certain intensity and bleeding-edge forcefulness to gaming that I hadn't seen as much in other games around me at that time.

So, when a game like Guilty Gear X came about... while others might say "more of the same AND better"... there's more to it than just that alone.

GGX brought order to some of the chaos, in terms of mechanics, in terms of exchanges, but it also brought with it a higher bar of challenge compared to the first game. Things like air combos, blocking with Faultless Defense, and even Instant Kills got completely reorganized.

While the artwork wasn't as "rough" as it previously was, the feeling I got from the series was still there: images of Sol biting hard on a sword with his teeth, holding chains in his hands... the "almost holy" imagery of the mysterious girl known as Dizzy. The interactions between characters, while still Japanese, were still something of a higher level of spectacle.

Characters now had even more animations, more actions, and even Roman Cancels... and although the story was simplistic at first... it was the first time we began to see some semblance of narrative that didn't follow the typical tournament format.

I remember when "Heavy Rock Tracks" (the GGX music album) first came out... I was completely absorbed in the music. Every single character had their own unique style of rock and metal, and the pacing fit them very well.

Two of the longest tracks on that album were "Bloodstained Lineage" and "Awe of She"... and those two tracks alone emitted their own unique story and narrative... a narrative you wouldn't see unless you saw the nature of the characters in the story.

But, it wouldn't be until GGXPlus until a console port of the arcade game that we got anything resembling a Story Mode.

But even then, it was more akin to old style visual novels or even just a silent film that we were experiencing... so it was nothing like the modern games that now have a cinematic quality to them.

Around this point in time, Japan enjoyed Manga, Small Novels, doujinshi, Drama CDs, and other content that us in America wouldn't get to experience until years upon years later after it was digested.

It's sad to think that in retrospect, I barely knew anything about this game series that I became so absorbed with, only because of things like language barriers, lack of funding to export content, and simply the differences in culture that occur across the ocean.

When Guilty Gear XX (or as some people call it, X2) began to buzz in the Arcades in 2002, my first impression was that the music was now finally getting the respect it deserved. Live concert music.

The new characters (Zappa, Slayer, I-No, Bridget, etc) were all the topic of discussion in the rumor mill... and I remember Zappa in particular being a fan favorite standout because of the bizarre matchups we would see between players.

It was, around this time that a "split" between those who venerated the Arcade Version, and those who focused on the Console versions, was becoming evident.

You could argue that Ishiwatari was partly to blame for that process, because he was primarily involved with the Arcade business, rather than the home console porting process... so those of us who were more focused on the story had less "clout" than those of us who were more focused on the gameplay.

But, if I had to say who was really to blame for the whole issue... I blame Sammy-Sega for their meddlesome involvement in Ishiwatari's works...

I say this because, if it weren't for them, Ishiwatari would have done things his OWN way, instead of focusing on Arcade ports or "Gaiden" offshoots of a series he should have focused more on directly supervising his narrative of.

Of course Arcades as a business are MUCH more prominent in Japan than anywhere else in the world (even by today's standards), but that is also some of the reason why Guilty Gear was still a niche fighting game in other regions.

Those who lived and breathed Arcade Culture would probably argue that the "Arcade versions" were much more venerable, but from my perspective... I wasn't able to have access to nearly half as many Arcade games in existence by comparison (even as a longtime Mortal Kombat fan).

When I think about it now... I had no interest in #Reload as a game by itself... while it was a rebalance... all it did was change things up and adjust a "few" things that were firmly established in the original GGXX game.

But, things like PC ports, hacks, modding, sprite rips, etc, gave way to more ways to access Reload than any other GG game previously... and this was BEFORE the multi-platform Accessibility monster that was Accent Core.

I think, what really drove me forwards as a fan of GG at that time was Guilty Gear Isuka. It wasn't simply a "party game" like everyone else would tout it to be (not for me, at least). It was a game that experimented with new ideas and put them in a fighting game that nobody else considered doing.

Not even SNK, I'd imagine, thought to turn all their entire cast of characters in to a Arcade beatemup protagonist in the form of Isuka's BOOST MODE. They wouldn't come up with that idea until KOF Allstars a DECADE LATER!

To me though... Isuka had other nuances to it that I enjoyed... unique boss fights, team battles... situations that I never had in single 1 versus 1 battles.

Having a partner fight alongside you, having co-op, or having a free-for-all brawl... all of these things AND the ability to change your character's sprite colors to what you wanted... just added more and more fun to the table than I ever previously thought possible!

Most "competitive oriented" players will laugh and look down on Isuka for the very nature it presented... but I'm sure a lot of Smash Bros players will know what sort of game genre it was going for... and perhaps even appreciate it more in retrospect.

Around this point in time... a lot of GG content was getting recycled... we hadn't gotten anything NEW in a while... other than slightly tweaked movelists and the adjustments to frame data.

Guilty Gear XX Slash... while it was something new, wasn't as engaging as previous entries in that regard, though it did have a few curiosities... like Order Sol and A.B.A., among others.

Sadly, Kliff and Justice didn't get tweaked much in Slash... so they weren't very strong or interesting at that stage of development.

For me, I guess... Slash wasn't really that important a game, as I was pretty happy with the music and artwork of previous game entries, though I found the barebones lack of content to be problematic.

It was of course, because SEGA wanted to cash in on GG as a phenomenon that Slash came about... Ishiwatari had (once again) nothing to do with Slash in production (other than a few things in the Arcade version).

It's one thing for a strong creative director to put his hard work in to a game, but it's another for others to muddy the waters and take that game and just "repeat" what has all been released previously like redunance.

It was about this time, people started drawing comparisons between all the endless "Street Fighter Clones" and reiterations.

All I could do was sigh and nod my head.

I was getting bored with the current form of GG.

When Accent Core came about... my first impression was that the entire thing was an "append" or patch update rebalance that meant to address the glitches and stability issues that Slash and older GG games struggled with.

Even with new moves, like Forcebreaks, and adjustments to Force Roman Cancels, and even Slashback as a new mechanic... none of that really engaged me as a player.

What engaged me as a player... more than anything else... regardless of balance, patch updates, etc...

I wouldn't get what I wanted until we at least got Accent Core PLUS.

It started out as an "append disc", just like your modern patch update equivalent...

But they finally decided to tweak all EX characters, game modes, unlocked content, and even STORY mode had a much more cohesive and structured route of stories (instead of the maze of secrets that was older forms of Story Mode).

But... even despite all the content we got... Ishiwatari was STILL not as directly involved. Even if the story got updated, even if the characters GOT STRONGER... everything was still getting "recycled" to an extent.

Well... "recycled" is one way of putting it, but I don't think I would truly appreciate the game until Extra Menu was unlocked as a feature.

Extra Menu, much like System Editor in Third Strike, is the means through which you can tweak the game's very rules.

As someone who enjoyed Game Genie and Game Shark, among other modding tools... this feature fascinated me to no end... and it also increased Accent Core's replay value by a great amount!

Nowadays, you'll hear lots of people who became obsessed with modern ports of Accent Core Plus R... but to me, Accent Core Plus was the "true form" the game would take for many MANY years.

At this point in time... Guilty Gear as a series (for me) was already starting to lose its appeal.

That sounds weird coming from me, doesn't it?

When I say it was "losing appeal"... by that I mean, other people were losing interest in GG... but for me, the "world" of GG itself, the core story and structure of the series... was still deeply rooted in my mind as a fan.

So when GG2 Overture was announced and released, everyone had great expectations for what would come about.

But it seems, because of the complex nature of Ishiwatari's narrative, combined with the execution issues Overture had (along with technology and legal issues)... well, things just didn't go as planned.

By itself, the story and MUSIC especially, as well as character designs, GG2 Overture is a work worthy of the Guilty Gear saga.. if only the gameplay were better worked out.

Nowadays it's actually very hard to think of a game that works out the battle mechanics of a War Simulator, but applying Fighting game mechanics on top of this makes the game even harder to execute.

If GG2 were remade with today's technology and creativity, I'm sure a lot of features could be made even MORE appealing than they previously were... even to the point that even staunch fans of the "fighting game" aspect of GG would have no choice but to acknowledge such a game.

Of course, I'm simply day-dreaming of GG2's true potential.

For me, I actually had no talent to play through the game's story mode... in retrospect, I had to import a save file just to unlock everything the game had to offer!

As sad as that is to admit... I still appreciate the game such as it is... the story was bizarre enough to be engaging, and even showed a side of Sol few had previously seen: Sol as an intellectual!

I've been dancing around the topic up until now... but lets face the Pink Elphelt in the Room: Port offshoots of GG.

The first games that come to mind are GG Club, GG RoA, Dust Strikers, Judgement, and Guilty Gear Petit (Puchi in Japan)... but also GGX Advance, and Chimaki's Bathtime Adventure (Pro Jumper GG Tangent).

Like Sammy Sega before them... this time it was Majesco who wanted to "cash in" on Guilty Gear in the handheld sector of game-making.

Bizarre handhelds like the DS and 3DS... with their stylus and touch screens... can GG even thrive in such an environment as that?

Well, if you ask me, Wonderswan was a bit of a flop as a console to begin with, even if it had a few niche games on it.

I certainly wasn't very interested in GGX Advance... I had a gray brick gameboy... and I couldn't even imagine a GG title on that thing.

Despite my lack of interest in those games... they did produce "something" in the form of Guilty Gear Judgement.

That black horse of a game explored what Isuka's Boost Mode did, and tried to take the next step... but I would argue that a lot of ideas they tried didn't pan out very well.

Even if you picked certain characters in the game, they wouldn't have a staunch advantage against certain bosses because of the mechanical advantages stage bosses had in that game... so a character like Chipp Zanuff would easily get poked to death by the Plant Boss, for example.

Even if you abused advantages like Dizzy's gamma ray or Axl's long range chain attacks... it didn't feel very much like a fighting game at that point. Just some weird idea somebody had that just happened to sell for a little while.

Now even more of a Dark Horse than Judgement was.... sigh... Guilty Gear VastEdge... where do I even go with that game?

What do I even say?

It feels like the worst possible footnote to put GG on.

Like when SNK decided Pachinko Pachislot games were more important than developing fighting games... that's literally the brainfart that produced (or should I say "hell-spawned") VastEdge.

I'm not hating on the idea of a pachislot game specifically... some of them were decently executed...

But, as a longtime Guilty Gear fan... it felt like a slap in the face to me.

When I first saw it, spoilers for the game were already out and circulating, and the story was either badly translated, or basically unrelated to previous story entries and just entirely arbitrary with its plot structure.

I say that... but Guilty Gear Xrd Sign was just around the corner after this.

What's the first thing that comes to mind about Sign?

I remember feeling excited, for the first time in many years, that a new GG was being developed AND directed by Ishiwatari.

Xrd had boatloads of ambition and potential... but it was still held back by the technology of its era... so in a way, Xrd suffered under its own ambitions and lack of resources, much like GG2 had in previous years.

Sign itself had a more cinematic approach to anime-styled art that many enjoyed... but the simplification of the character models reduced the "rough sketchy details" that older fans of GG enjoyed that Ishiwatari's artwork was more known and famous for.

It was a 3D game now... no longer a 2D sprite-fight game... and that still managed to alienate some people.

Of course... in my mind, the world GG created still hadn't changed much... not yet anyway.

I wouldn't start noticing the changes until during the process of looking at the localization of the game (and subsequent updates) later on.

Minor errors, mistakes, neglectful aspects... little things... began to pile up and add to my... growing concerns.

I didn't realize it at first because I was too busy going over the game's content with a fine toothed comb to really observe my feelings at the time, but...

I felt it strongly after Revelator came out... American fans just didn't get the same service that Japanese fans did.

It was things like community updates, news updates, arcade events... just a series of minor things that most other companies would give away their heart and soul to do for their fans... at the time, ARCSys didn't do much for American fans or Europe.

If I think about it now... I did my best to distract myself with my growing interest in characters like Bedman and Ramlethal... and the new music Xrd had presented us... even the netplay encounters were a "mild distraction" to me... but that gnawing feeling wouldn't shake me so easily.

I played people online, and finally started making name and reputation for myself as a gamer in the community of GG.

I could finally say I was a "decent player"... despite all the years of training and playing "alone" on my game consoles years prior.

But none of that really "mattered" to me.

What mattered was the STORY.

The Story of Guilty Gear.

I didn't start to feel it until I saw "After Story" and the narrative of "Revelator".

GG's story was nearing its conclusion, wasn't it?

When Raven spoke his "farewell speech" to Asuka R. Kreutz... I started to see it.

The years had piled up, before I knew it.

Where did everything go?

Where did the WORLD of GG go off to? That it was in this state now?

Where was the world that I lived in?

The question in my mind... when I face a game and story like that of Guilty Gear Strive:

Where is Guilty Gear going now?

Where's the world going to go?

Lots of ideas "changed" lots of presentation "changed"... even the community is a LOT different than it was in previous years.

Even for me... as a gamer... as a modder even... I started "tweaking" the game's features in mods to suit my own "narrative" of what GG actually was... color changes, model changes, music changes...

But is that really GG?

Or is that just "my take" on GG?

The world of GG that I existed in... to some extent that was "my world" and not anyone elses.

My "Absolute World", if you want to reference Bedman and Delilah.

Nothing ever exists the way you want it to... not perfectly... not exactly.

Even in these modern times... I begin to question if GG was "ever truly meant for me"?

That creeping gnawing doubt I started to feel in Xrd Sign.

The feeling that GG was slowly disappearing... the GG that I knew.

The "Heavy Metal" of yesteryear.

The "Hard Rock" of times past.

The "Density" of the game's mechanics and features... all simplified and reduced to mere shades and shadows of past complex notions.

But, even as someone who studied game modding, I realize that even M.u.g.e.n. incarnations... even if a "boss character" version of a character we've all loved.... therein lies a madness that should not exist in a "balanced game".

Unlimited Characters in BlazBlue, Darkside and Gold Boss characters in Accent Core... boss characters in Arcade Mode.

SNK Bosses, "Nintendo Hard" bosses... those sort of things existed in their OWN worlds... long LONG ago.

And I simply became enamored with them as a concept.

My own distorted notions and expectations for a game that has every right to become whatever the devs want it to become.

But, is that something Ishiwatari wanted?

I ask because I don't know the answer to that question... not yet at least.

I'm sure there's things he "wanted" to do... but there are still limitations... ideas left on the table.

The book on GG's story hasn't closed yet.

The future is STILL an uncertain blank page.

Do I have high hopes for GG in the future? Expectations?

It's hard to say if I even do anymore... but... even if I "mod" the game in such a way that it becomes "appealing" to me once more, as the games of the past did...

I will at least have the wherewithal to share my experience with my friends when I can manage it.

Whether that's powerful Gears like Justice who can fire a huge laser Gamma Ray... or a berserker like A.B.A. who can slash enemies with her Shinigami Axe Flament Nagel...

Or, perhaps, I'll play as Asuka, and showcase how powerful "That Man" has become...

Who knows what the future brings?

But, even if some things don't match my expectations... I will do my best to enjoy what comes.

#Personal Musings #GP waxes Nostalgic #Long Post

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seishun-emergency · 2 years

Note

HELLO i heard you say you like pondering bizarre combos of characters and so i am BACK. in honor of one of my friends on discord: thoughts on reichia (rei/chiaki)? or perhaps the rinne/kanata/hiyori dorm? and maybe even ritsukasa?

i also love thinking about new combos of characters. this is why i ended up with a 13 chapter fic in the works for a npc/playable character that have never even been in the same country canonically. but that 1. requires so much context and 2. i dont even know if you know genshin

HELLO WELCOME BACK !!! i Do love pondering bizarre combos it's like a fun brain exercise. a challenge in how well i know each character and also if they've interacted in canon yk. anyways. ritsukasa and rinne/kanata/hiyori first because . well you'll see why i saved chiarei for last. i also know nearly nothing about genshin so unfortunately i probably would not understand your 13 chapter fic but in another world i would like to

ritsukasa - love them. silly guys. knights r all in love with tsukasa and tsukasa is in love with all of them. my ritsukasa chess fic is one of the silliest things ive written and i looove it i think ritsu has too much fun being an absolute Menace to tsukasa and tsukasa keeps getting made the fool of but its ok bc they are in Love

rinne/hiyori/kanata - they are so. god. what a dorm. i dont think they'd be a very stable relationship but they'd be a fun one !!! hiyori and rinne seem like they'd either be flirting or fighting or both and kanata stabilizes them somewhat by just being a calmer and more easygoing guy but honestly. hiyori tomoe the baddest bitch of ensquare and rinne amagi assigned troublemaker at birth would not be stopped by just kanata. unless he like picked them up or somethign i believe him. they would have the best date aesthetics tho hiyori's feed would be pinterest fodder with their date pics

chiarei - SO OKAY. STORY TIME. we're getting into some leo lore here. leore if you will. now when i started the game before i fell into ibara and toriP hell i was chiakiP along with mao and koga (the ryuseitai episode in the anime changed me + meteor impact was the first ! era story i read) (i know.) and i REALLY wanted chiaki's atoz card when that gacha banner was out. i did 110 pulls on the banner and this guy REFUSED to come home.

fast forward to around the start of november. in this time ive gotten my roommate into enstars and between the two of us we have three accounts: my phone, her phone, and her ipad. rei's bday rolls around and my roommate, who really likes rei, decides to do pulls on rei's birthday banner to try and get his initial 5* home.

we do the pulls. we get the rainbow lights. it isn't rei that comes home - it's date plan atoz chiaki. (not even his initial 5*! the specific shuffle unit chiaki that refused to come home for me!)

we do pulls on the collective ipad account, also on rei's birthday banner: date plan atoz chiaki comes home again.

now you can imagine how envious i am at this point. the envy isn't the point of this story though the POINT IS. because of the fact that chiaki came home two separate times on rei's banner i made a joke that chiaki's holding rei's hand and that's why he's on rei's bday banner. and then i kinda ran with it and chiarei is perhaps a rarepair i am Considering. spinning around in my brain like a microwave,

okay onto the actual. commentary. i think chiarei is really fun actually :3 contrasting imagery of demon/villain vs. hero plus also the mutual friends of kanata and kaoru. rei flirting with chiaki because he has a smooth fanservice demon persona to uphold and chiaki getting flustered but then responding earnestly bc he is In Love and then rei getting Even More Flustered back. yeah. holds them in my hands Consider Them

#leo composes #windypuddle #ask tag #chiarei #rinhiyokana #ritsukasa #the chiarei story is so funny 2 me. that time i started shipping a rarepair because of gacha luck #all ik abt genshin is that i get gender envy from kaeya and scaramouche is a war criminal but also babey

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ponds-of-ink · 1 year

Text

Notre Dame AU Chapter 9: “Discoveries and Discourses”

Sorry for being late with this, but I got carried away.

This is more based on speculation (and my personal rough outline of events) than the actual Ruin DLC, so take allll of this with a grain of salt the size of a suitcase.

Cassie reeled back as a commotion stirred outside Roxy’s Salon. The two doors before her rattled and shook. “Gregory, run!” she bellowed out, gripping her newly-acquired walkie-talkie with both hands.

Outside, Judge Glitch banged on the doors with brute force. He almost sent out a signal to some nearby animatronic, but a door slam from the front of the building caught him off-guard. He watched as the silhouette of a pigtailed girl darted out of sight. His blood boiled. “This girl is going to be even harder to catch than Gregory,” he fumed to himself as he stormed towards her general direction. “She has only been here an hour, yet she has apparently vowed to rescue and repair rather than finish the boy’s job. Which must mean that her only instinct is to run and hide. A pity. I was looking forward to a true fight at this point.”

Though disheartened by his own conclusion, the rabbit still pursued her in the dark– Silently thankful that his own source of selective visibility wasn’t working at the moment.

Meanwhile, in a different section of the mega mall, Agonia kept himself hidden. His body crawled and clung close to any walls he could find. He kept a sharp eye out, halting whenever the familiar footfall of a certain Glamrock neared him. Or, given the abundance of bare metal skeletons prowling around, he stared at the intruder and carefully inched his way back to safety. Though this did make for a slow and ever-fruitless rescue mission, the opportunity for exploring outside his former “home” currently outweighed the disappointment.

A buzzing sensation rattled his arm, prompting him to check his watch. The words “Incoming signal” chilled his soul. However, as enduring the buzzing would only serve as a way for his arm to act as an alarm for any snooping individuals, he pressed down on the screen. “Hello?” he asked, using the robotic voice box like it was his own larynx.

“H-Hey..” a low feminine voice rasped out, making the rabbit’s ears raise. “Don’t I.. know you?”

“I am not sure,” Agonia answered uneasily, keeping his ‘voice’ down. “You sound familiar, but I could be wrong.”

A faint gasp emitted from the speakers. “N-No way,” the other responded, her voice smoothing and raising in pitch. “Aft—No, that’s not what you go by now... Agonia, right?”

“Yes,” the robot agrees with a nod. “Why? Have we met?”

The female laughed weakly, narrowly avoided a brutal coughing fit. “Ago, it’s me!” she exclaimed joyfully. “The same knight who almost fought you on that staircase at Princess’ Challenge!”

Agonia’s eyes drifted left and right. His eyelids raised as a thought came to mind. “Vanessa?” he asked, his modulated tone floating between doubt and surprised disbelief.

Another fit of frail laughter. “You got it first try!” she said in a more relaxed tone. “And here I thought you’d guess that I was Judge Glitch in disguise.”

“I can tell when it’s him,” the robot explained, now cautiously resuming his journey. “Besides, he’s ‘Gregory’ now.”

“Wait, he’s impersonating Gregory?”

”Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Unless Cassie has been caught.”

Static filled the empty void as Agonia neared a corner of the large room. He peered into a narrow hallway, using his watch like a torch as his formless companion gathered her thoughts. “I hope you realize what that probably means,” Vanessa spoke up at last, concern stifling her voice even more than whatever ailed her.

“I am aware,” Agonia said simply, rounding the corner. “Which is why I am out here: To warn.”

A sigh of relief eased the mounting tension. “Good to know that we’re still on the same page,” she responded. “I thought for sure Glitch would’ve done something to you by now. Well.. Something worse than what he’s done to you already.”

The robot only shook his head in acknowledgment. He trudged onwards, still using the watch like a flashlight. “Where are you?” he questioned in a lower tone, his head whirring this way and that.

”I’m near the Fazer-Blast arena,” Vanessa answered in a similar manner. “Pretty sure you’re in one of the unblocked hallways on the second floor. If you keep going straight and then take a right once things look more ‘customer-friendly’, you can find a back-door entrance that I used to use. If you find yourself in darkness where only.. Maybe one or two?.. neon light panels light up in a really weird pattern, you’re there. I can give you more instructions when you get there, if you really want to find me.”

Agonia nodded slightly. Once he finally neared the end of the hallway, he swerved his body to the right. “Thank you,” he replied, his fingers hovering over the brightly-lit screen of the watch. “I must let you go now.”

“..Goodbye to you too, I guess,” Vanessa said with a twinge of confusion. “By the way, you really gotta phrase some of your stuff a little less ominously sometimes. It really doesn’t help that your voice sounds like a trash can hooked up to a text-reading program.”

“I will keep that in mind,” Agonia noted, a scowl entering his features as he pressed down on the screen. The watch’s screen lost its blue light, plunging him back into darkness. Fortunately, with the combined knowledge of the camera map and Vanessa’s own experience, this large chamber of carpet-floored bridges and many sidelined attractions was easy to navigate. This did not mean that it was easy to dash through the back door unscathed, however. That was always going to be a risk with Judge Glitch around.

After a few minutes of hobbling and listening, the bell-ringer arrived at a plain-looking door with a metal push handle. He paused to look for an unlit exit sign, then shoved his way inside. Instantly, he was met with giant neon barriers that varied between standing like a stone wall and wedged between plies of debris. The door shut behind him with a loud thunk. He “gulped”, but still kept going. To say that he wasn’t silently thanking some of the colored strips of light as he passed by them, however, would be an outright lie.

He descended the nearest ramp, surveying the world below him. Looking for any trace he could spot. Blonde hair reflecting back some of the colors glowing in the room. A woman huddled in some shadowy corner, waving him down with her free arm. Even the two bright red eyes of her bunny mask was an option, considering how her voice shifted in a matter of seconds.

Padded footsteps followed behind. “Well, I see you’re also in the middle of a search,” a sonorous voice spoke up, making the robot shudder. “I would say ‘Good work’ if it weren’t for the fact that you clearly disobeyed my instructions.”

Agonia looked back to see Judge Glitch. He merely slumped his shoulders and sighed deeply.

Glitch sniggered at this display of remorse. “Even after two disastrous attempts, you still insist on going outside the first chance you get,” he quipped, readjusting his ears. “Oh, well. It was my fault for reinvigorating that urge. I should’ve just told you to wait back ‘home’.”

A hurt glance was the man’s only retort.

“It’s too late to send you home, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Glitch clarified as they reached the ground floor. “Either I’ll have to use your impulsiveness to my advantage or I’ll keep you in the shadows until you’re ready. A simple adjustment to the plan, that’s all.”

This mention of “the plan” revived Agonia’s mission. His ghostly heart thumped as Glitch passed by him. What if Vanessa and the judge encounter each other? Would she be able to survive any attacks the rabbit dealt? Was there even a chance of a misunderstanding of his own intentions from either party?

Agonia shook his head rapidly. His eyes scanned the area as he trailed behind his master. His servos whirred as he purposely inspected each corner, which made his leader’s ear twitch. “Is there something troubling you, Agonia?” Glitch asked with a hint of false concern. “You seem very nervous though there’s a decent amount of light here.”

The animatronic rapidly signaled “No!” with a toothy grin.

“Really?” Glitch continued in that same tone. “Hm. I’m not convinced.”

Shuffling echoed from a nearby section. Both rabbits turned to face the sound. Glitch simply raised an ear and tilted his head. Agonia jolted and stared with wide glowing eyes. The former lifted an eyebrow at the latter’s gesture. “I know this isn’t likely, as you clearly got here only mere seconds before I did,” he said darkly, glancing at his alarmed listener, “but I’m starting to wonder if you’re hiding something—or someone— from me. This place is a good hiding spot, after all.”

Agonia attempted to motion a rebuttal, but Glitch coldly strolled by. Both plodded along quietly. Glitch’s ear turned towards Agonia’s uneven gait. “It’s funny,” the former said thoughtfully, slowing his steps. “Your walk reminds me of Burntrap’s little escapade that one of the slacking knights reported. Unlike you, he was very nimble. Even able to scale the walls of the castle with a child on his back.”

Agonia’s robotic ears pinned back. “A child?” he mouthed as he tapped his interviewee on the shoulder.

“Yes,” Glitch answered, taking a few steps forward. “A boy, as a matter of fact. A shame that’s all the knight could see from so far a distance. Otherwise, I’d know if Gregory had any other friends helping him.”

A strange twinge of dread filled the bell-ringer’s soul. He tried to maintain his pace, but a sudden halt from his leader prompted him to follow suit. He shrank as his master’s ears flopped into some position like long hair down a person’s back. A thump of the heels echoed throughout the giant area, triggering a full-on cower. Both of the judge’s fists clenched. “You piloted that robot, didn’t you?” the judge growled disjointedly, turning to look back with extremely dialated pupils.

Agonia only trembled.

“Let me say this in a way you can answer,” Glitch snarled, his voice building in fury as he fully faced his listensr. “You helped him escape, didn’t you!?”

A wince. He couldn’t really argue against that one. His head nodded while the rest of his body attempted to retreat. Spotting a makeshift gate nearby, he clumsily leapt over it and kept moving backwards.

Nevertheless, Glitch stomped towards the frightened robot. “So this entire mall is in shambles because of you!” he fumed, his hand sparking with green pixels as he struck open the barrier. “You caused the fire! You ruined lives–as well as your own, mind you– with your carelessness!”

Though this last remark tore open wounds of the distant past, Agonia still reeled back. “He was kind to me, Your Honor!” he cried out in a frail tone. “I had to do something!”

Instead of this audible retort stunning Glitch into silence, it only made his whiskers twitch even more. “You idiot!” he shrieked as he swiped towards the other’s outstretched arm. “He wasn’t being kind to you! He was just stopping an ex-employee from misusing his given tools!”

Agonia tried to get another word in, but a sudden lift of his chin depleted his ability to talk. He could only peer into those two lavender eyes now beaming with rage.

“Think, boy,” came a more savage sneer from the judge. “Gregory is a child with.. many concerning circumstances lurking in his mind. The last set of children with that mindset practically killed William Afton himself— Not literally, of course, but they certainly aided in his demise. Don’t you remember that one girl who almost tossed you into the ‘lake’?”

A sea of other memories crashed into his mind. Pangs of phantom needles stung every fiber of his currently-robotic being. Cries and mocking laughter intertwined as separate events mingled in his ears. The yells of that little girl begging for help before some calamity, however, restored his senses. Instead of a despairing look of full agreement, he answered the question with a puzzled expression. Almost as if to ask, “Are you sure it was her?”.

Glitch brushed this off with his hand releasing the robot’s face. “That was years ago,” he murmured, almost as if it was a passing reminder to himself more-so than to Agonia. “Of course it would be hard to remember such an event if you were just barely clinging to life–“ His ears raised. He put a hand to his face. “Never mind, Agonia,” he said wearily, strolling past the recovering listener. “Cassie and Gregory will be out of our lives soon enough. After that, I will ensure that everything those two have taught you will be out of your system.”

Agonia’s head tilted. He gestured an inquiry of “soon enough?” to the disgruntled rabbit.

Glitch instinctively peered behind his shoulder. “Believe it or not, I know where Cassie is hiding,” he grinned. “And, once I snuff her out, I’ll make sure Gregory is properly taken care of.” With no other explanation, he vanished into the darkness of some unlit section of the area. A fading, malicious chuckle was the sole trace the rabbit left behind.

The bell-ringer stood there. His partially-bowed legs struggled to not weaken. He looked towards the source of the shuffling, hoping for some sort of answer.

Vanessa cautiously stepped into the light. She flagged Agonia down with her arm. “Come on, big guy,” she mouthed, tilting her head as if to reinforce her previous action.

Reluctantly, Agonia sprinted as softly as he could. He only gave an affirmative nod once he reached her.

“We’ve got to find Cassie and fast,” Vanessa said, pulling out her own orange-and-blue Faz-Watch. “At least Gregory gave me this to get a better view of the area. Mine burned up in that fire– Which wasn’t your fault, by the way.”

Agonia’s eyelids raised. “Did.. you talk to each other?” he asked softly, his vocal chords regaining some of their strength.

Vanessa’s expression shifted from mild, vague frustration to outright surprise. “A little,” she answered while she set up her own map. “We ‘met up’ down in that really old construction site below Roxy’s Raceway. I was still hurt from.. a previous accident, he was recovering from a pretty bad fall– Fun times for everyone.”

Agonia observed Vanessa placing her free hand on her shoulder blade. He watched her grimace and scowled. “Sword wound,” he muttered grimly, gently moving her hand away. “A badly-treated one.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t have much choice,” Vanessa quipped, focusing all her mental strength on figuring out the lines on her screen. “First aid kits were clearly out of the question.. Which is what I’m about to say for this stupid map system. Why did the camera feed have to break on this thing?”

Agonia’s ears raised. Quickly, he pulled off his watch and jump-started it to life. He put his device on top of hers, then scrolled through the black-and-white footage. “Is this it?” he asked, pointing to her barely-rectangular outline once he was confident in his findings.

Vanessa squinted. “Pretty close,” she responded simply. “Maybe try Camera B?”

Agonia changed feeds. “How about now?” he questioned again.

The former knight’s eyes widened. “Yeah, that’s it!” she exclaimed. “That’s the main party room on both of our watches! Now I can find Cassie in real time!” Then, as she hobbled to her feet, her smile dropped. “I mean, now we can find Cassie in real time,” she corrected herself with a shaky chuckle. “That is, if you still want to help.”

The rabbit slumped. He sighed tiredly. Did he really want to disappoint Judge Glitch for the fourth time in a row? Especially after that large outburst?

Vanessa stared at him with a look of concern. Her right hand shook slightly while she placed it on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go with me,” she insisted with a weary smile. “If you feel like Glitch would break you into pieces if you did, that’s.. actually fair. I’ll just slap that smug rodent’s face an extra time on your behalf.”

Agonia replied with an expression mixed with pure horror and a lingering sense of “please do not be that rash”.

”Suit yourself,” sniggered Vanessa as she fastened both watches to her arm. “Have fun getting to know the others, if you haven’t already! They’re a really fun bunch— Or they were at one point.” With this as her farewell, she skipped into the distance like Vanny of old.

Agonia plodded in the opposite direction. His ears drooped as the inevitable question reared its head: Now what? Glitch must’ve kicked him off the search party, so he couldn’t feign looking for Cassie anymore. Vanessa rightfully thinks that he’s set on leaving for home, so she’ll most likely refuse him on an offer of re-joining. And returning to his secondary “home” would clearly be a disappointing way to end his mere hour or two of adventure. A shame that he couldn’t go back to his old home at the castle. Otherwise, he would have a true sanctuary at a time like this.

Agonia exited through the front entrance of Fazer-Blast. His eyes lazily scanned the main party room, barely acknowledging Vanessa’s maneuvering shadow. The once-vibrant purple carpet was muted by ash and soot. The giant stage still stood, but countless tables and chairs barricaded any way of getting onto it. So did most of the structural pillars and stairs, come to think of it.

His ears raised. If a stage of that size and structure managed to survive, then what could stop a full castle from barely hanging on?

He looked down at his wrist with a wide grin. A second realization turned that grin into a frown. “I accidentally gave her my device, didn’t I?” he muttered aloud, lowering his head.

Meanwhile, Vanessa struggled to sync her camera feed switches with her moving around the digital map. She fumbled into a lone chair, which prompted her to cry out in pain. A barrage of angry groans and complaints ensued. “I don’t have time for this!” she strained, using the back of the chair as a momentary crutch.

“Not at your current pace,” added a voice from above, causing Vanessa to look up. To her shock, there was that lanky rabbit now scaling an upper wall of the room. “Glad you changed your mind, but you could’ve just taken the stairs!” she fussed.

“My legs are too crooked,” reasoned Agonia while calmly finishing his descent. “Besides, I need the practice.”

Quite frankly too tired to ask any more questions (especially since the whole “legs being crooked” comment might’ve been Glitch’s doing, for all she knew), she made her way to the rabbit’s side of the stage. She helped him readjust his stance, then they walked alongside each other. “So, I guess you couldn’t stand the thought of me slapping the old judge?” Vanessa smiled jestingly, nudging his arm as she gave him his watch.

“I came back for my device,” Agonia answered honestly, slipping the watch back on. “And I wanted to go home. My real home. The castle.”

“Talking about the castle,” Vanessa said, her eyes lighting up as brightly as her map’s screen, “I wonder if anyone else thought to use that as a hideout. It does—It did— have a pretty good viewing spot.”

Agonia hummed. He checked his watch. “Something is moving,” he relayed, giving his companion his watch. “Look.”

“Good catch,” Vanessa replied with a calm (but certainly proud) smile. “C’mon, maybe we can get some help.”

Agonia readily followed alongside, making sure his uneven gait caught up with her determined stride. Though this ramshackle robot limited his facial expressions, his true form grinned like a young boy of his era traveling on his adventure in the woods. So many possibilities lie ahead for them both— And, for him in particular, all of them now seemed extremely promising. Why, he could even gain the chance to go outside this building with a new start! No more unnecessary pains of the past. No more being hounded by some overbearing Spring-Bonnie wannabe. Just him, his new companions, and a beautiful world right outside those glass doors.

And that, perhaps, was the most thrilling option of all.

#william afton #glitchtrap #vanessa fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf ruin #fnaf fanfic #fnaf au #notre dame au #long chapter #dialogue heavy #should definitely have more action next time #as well as #...a special boy’s return

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moominpapasfanficblog · 2 years

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The New Snufkin

On facing reality

Moomin and Tayberry introduced themselves to Snusmumrikken as they ate Moominmama’s jelly sandwiches. Little My hung back, observing everything that they did. One could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. Snusmumrikken looked very uncomfortable and turned to Moomintroll and Snork Maiden with a look of desperation in their eyes.

“Why did you just accept Moomintroll being together with Snufkin?! They’re supposed to be constantly yearning for each other! And you were supposed to keep Moomintroll all for yourself! This is all wrong!”, Snusmumrikken said to Snork Maiden.

“Who says that it’s wrong for the three of us to be together as a family? Certainly not me, or them. We’re all in a much better place now, and Moomin and Tayberry being raised by the three of us, as well as their grandparents, has made them much happier than they would have been with me and Snufkin fighting over Moomintroll.”, said Snork Maiden.

“But…but, change is always wrong. It means things are falling apart and you’re going to lose…I’ve said too much. You need to get back to where you were or things will go horribly wrong.”, said Snusmumrikken with tears welling up in their eyes.

“Are you prepared to be proven wrong? You came here to live with us, and you’re more than welcome. See for yourself what our family is really like now. Feel perfectly free to live in your tent and go South in Winter as Snufkin used to. But, just as it was for Snufkin, the door to Moominhouse is always open and never locked. You will never be left out unless you feel a need for solitude. We will always leave you alone if you need to be, but we will always be there for you if you need a shoulder to cry on or just a nice cup of tea.”, said Moomintroll.

“Yes, yes! Welcome to Moominvalley! Welcome to the family! Blah, blah, blah! You need someone to show you around, and I’m just the one for the job! So, what are we waiting for? Come with me, unless you’re scared!”, said Little My as she took Snusmumrikken by the sleeve and began dragging them across the footbridge.

The first place Little My took Snusmumrikken to was the ghost castle of the Moomin King. She dragged them across the drawbridge and into the courtyard where the Moomin Knights were setting up the training grounds for the Squires. She took Snusmumrikken to Sir Bradley.

“Sir Bradley! I have a new recruit for your squad! Meet Snusmumrikken! I’m sure training just two Squires can’t be enough of a challenge for you! I’m sure that they will fit in nicely!”, said Little My.

Before Snusmumrikken or Sir Bradley could say a word, Little My dragged Snusmumrikken through the castle on a whirlwind tour. She then took them to the General Store in the heart of the village at top speed and introduced them to Linda Fillyjonk and Ninny Hampton. When they got back outside, even Little My was a little out of breath and Snusmumrikken was utterly spent.

“Wait…wait…Can we please stop?! Wasn’t that Mr. Hemulen’s cottage?! So, everything Moominpapa wrote about in his memoirs is true?! He wasn’t exaggerating anything or making anything up?!”, asked Snusmumrikken.

“Shocking, isn’t it? I’ve often thought that he was exaggerating his life experiences, but it turns out that he wasn’t! He really proves that truth is stranger and more exciting than fiction! Sure, he often indulges in nostalgia, but he knows that there’s no point in trying to turn back the hands of time. Things will always change in ways that no one can foresee and that no one can reverse.”, said Little My pointedly.

“I…need to get back to Moominhouse…right now…if that’s alright with you?”, said Snusmumrikken, their eyes already misting up with tears.

“Feel free! I’ve got all Summer to show you around! This is only the beginning of the changes around here that you can’t do anything about. Don’t think that you can worm your way out of it, or joining the Squires! The exercise and the healthy dose of reality will do you good!”, said Little My.

Snusmumrikken made their way back to Moominhouse slowly, looking around at the beautiful landscape, hoping for a sense of comfort. But, it was no good. They were overwhelmed by the enormity of everything that they had already seen and what Little My was going to force them to deal with. Tears began to stream down their face and they began to sniffle. They were so caught up in their depressed mood that they reached the verandah of Moominhouse before they realized it. Snork Maiden was sitting at the verandah table with a tea setup on it, complete with a tempting selection of homemade cookies.

“Where’s Moominmama?”, asked Snusmumrikken, sounding disappointed and a little desperate.

“She and the rest of the family are in the garden doing the Spring planting. Won’t you join me for tea?”, Snork Maiden said with gentle compassion.

Snusmumrikken broke down completely into a storm of tears and collapsed, face first, into Snork Maiden’s lap. She gently patted their head and let them cry for as long as they needed to.

To Be Continued

#moomin #moominvalley #little my #moomin oc #moomintroll #snork maiden #moomin fanfiction

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aspoonofsugar · 2 years

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Weiss’s Forest Animals

Once upon a time in midwinter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a queen sat sewing at her window, which had a frame of black ebony wood. As she sewed she looked up at the snow and pricked her finger with her needle. Three drops of blood fell into the snow. The red on the white looked so beautiful that she thought to herself, "If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood in this frame."

White, red and black are Snowhite’s 3 colors, that are referenced in Weiss’s Vale looks:

She is clearly designed to resemble a snowflake, but her outfit is red on the inside and it has a little black just above the heart.

The juxtaposition between white and red is very interesting:

Weiss superficially appears white and cold as snow, but on the inside she is red of passion and warmth.

It is just another way to convey our Snowhite’s duality, which has been there since the White Trailer:

Weiss is both the Heiress and the Huntress, the Queen and the Knight, Snowhite and the Prince.

She must appear white, ladylike, the fairest of them all to complement the finest of them all Schnee Dust Company. She is not just that, though. She is childish, spunky and has an aggressivity that burns within her.

Her challenge lies in reconciling these 2 sides, which can’t be done unless she faces her own version of the forest animals:

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In the Disney movie, Snowhite meets the animals in the forest and befriends them through singing. RWBY takes this moment and declines it in 2 different and complementary ways.

On the one hand the Heiress sings to the Atlesian elites to navigate her society, which is just as insidious and lonely as a forest. On the other hand the Huntress fights the Grimms, kills them and brings them to her side thanks to Glyphs.

It means that Weiss must overcome her society, inspire her people and family to be better and maybe even befriend the Faunus. However, she won’t be able to do that until she fights her own beasts, accepts them and incorporates them into who she is:

Winter: Excellent form! Now think to your fallen foes! The ones who forced you to push past where you were, and become who you are now. Think of them, and watch as they come to your side.

This is how black finds its way in Weiss’s color scheme. She wears a white mask of perfection and coldness, which must be cracked to show the feelings burning inside (the red blood on the pale skin in the trailer). Going under the surface, though, also means to face the shadows in one’s heart (the black Grimms).

By going through this process, Weiss stops being the Schnee Heiress and finally becomes “Weiss”, which still stands for white, but not like snow (Schnee), but as a synthesis of all the colors and shades she is made of.

So, let’s run through her Snowhite allusion step by step to discover how Weiss tames the forest animals and what each Grimm means for her development.

MIRROR MIRROR

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

Who in this land is fairest of all?

Snowhite’s story starts with the Evil Queen asking the magic mirror who is the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. Weiss’s story instead begins with her wondering:

Mirror, tell me something, Tell me who's the loneliest of all?

The Evil Queen is obsessed by her exteriority, while Weiss can’t piece together her interiority. This works because mirrors are symbols of both the outside and the inside. They reflect people as they appear, but they are also linked to self-identity.

In general, exteriority and interiority should not be seen as opposites, but as 2 complementary parts of the same person. The persona adopted to interact with others and the hidden feelings are equally important to build one’s sense of self.

The problem arises when these 2 parts are separated and in conflict with each other:

Everything my mind wants In conflict with my heart Fighting back surrender But every day I'm falling more apart Mirror what's this thing I see? Who is staring back at me? A stranger to my heart has filled my mind Mirror Help me Who am I?

Weiss’s magic mirror does not work well because instead of connecting her 2 sides (the mind and the heart, the Heiress and the Huntress, the white and the red), it separates them becoming a limiting barrier. Its magic turns into a curse.

The only solution lies into destroying the barrier by bringing the inside out. This is not easy and we see Weiss struggling with it throughout the whole story as her coping mechanisms evolve and change.

Initially, she finds balance in the act of singing. As stated above, singing is how the Heiress tames the fierce animals around her. To be more specific, there are 2 beasts Weiss is trying to subdue with her voice:

You were the one Who held me down and told me I was heading nowhere

Mirror mirror Tell me something Can I stop my fall?

Weiss sings to Jacques and to the Mirror, so her songs are meant to pacify both her father and herself.

On the one hand she sings on her father’s orders. She acts as a cute pet he can exhibit and make profit of. On the other hand she uses her songs to convey her feelings. She discusses her loneliness and insecurities in ways she is usually forbidden to do. It is both a performance and self-expression. It is exteriority and interiority combined.

What breaks this initial balance?

Like in the fairy tale, what starts the protagonist’s journey is an unexpected image appearing in the mirror:

You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But Snow-White is a thousand times fairer than you.

I'm the loneliest of all

The Evil Queen sees a Snowhite more beautiful than her, while Weiss sees a Snowhite, who is cold and lonely. Both dislike what they see and arrive to the same conclusion. To make that image disappear, they must “kill” Snowhite:

THE HUNTRESS AND THE BOAR

The Evil Queen tries to kill Snowhite by ordering a Hunstman to finish her off, whereas Weiss heads to Beacon to become a Huntress and shatter her Schnee Heiress persona.

As a result, our Snowhite ends up in a wood full of wild animals :

The poor child was now all alone in the great forest, and she was so afraid that she just looked at all the leaves on the trees and did not know what to do. Then she began to run. She ran over sharp stones and through thorns, and wild animals jumped at her, but they did her no harm.

She finds 7 friends:

And learns what’s like to live as a normal girl instead than as a princess:

The dwarfs said, "If you will keep house for us, and cook, make beds, wash, sew, and knit, and keep everything clean and orderly, then you can stay with us, and you shall have everything that you want."

"Yes," said Snow-White, "with all my heart."

In this new environment, she kills a Boarbatusk:

Just then a young boar came running by. He killed it, cut out its lungs and liver, and took them back to the queen as proof of Snow-White's death. The cook had to boil them with salt, and the wicked woman ate them, supposing that she had eaten Snow-White's lungs and liver.

In the fairy-tale, the Evil Queen tries to assimilate Snowhite’s beauty by eating her, but fails because she actually consumes a boar, which mirrors her inner bestiality. Weiss instead makes the Boarbatusk a part of who she is through her semblance:

It might not be one of her most iconic or even most useful summons, but Weiss’s Boarbatusk is still important:

Port on Weiss killing the Boarbatusk: Bravo! Bra-vo! It appears we are indeed in the presence of a true Huntress-in-training!

It is proof that she is a warrior that fights Grimms, so it is symbolic of her Huntress side, which she nurtures at Beacon and that becomes stronger with time. This growth is well conveyed through Weiss’s 2 Beacon songs:

Time for you to learn It's my turn I won't be held down any longer I've waited all my life and finally it's here It all begins A chance to win A dream that's been a lifetime An endless vast uphill climb The day I've waited for is drawing near

Some believe in fairy stories And the ghosts that they can't see I know that I could do so much If I could just believe in me Mirror mirror I'll tell you something I think I might change it all

Both It’s My Turn and Mirror Mirror part 2 highlight Weiss getting more active. She starts pursuing the life she wants and she reveals truths to the mirror instead of always waiting for answers. This development goes on until the Fall of Beacon where she receives a setback and is forced to go back to Atlas. However, Weiss has changed too much and can’t return to the person she once was. The boar has already been eaten.

This is shown during the Schnees’ concert, when she initially tries to wear her usual mask of perfection (The Heiress):

Only for her repressed feelings (the Huntress) to violently come out:

By this point, the Heiress is not able to tame the inner beasts anymore, not even with such a powerful song as This Life is Mine, that she performs at the charity event. Weiss needs a new approach to channel her wild side into a positive direction and who better than a Huntress can deal with rebellious animals?

Weiss: The Schnee family legacy isn't yours to leave. It's mine, and I'll do it as a Huntress.

SNOWHITE’S DEATH

The conflict between the Heiress and the Huntress reaches its climax and Weiss is on the brink of a metamorphosis. However, in order to truly transform she must in a sense “die”:

White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony wood! This time the dwarfs cannot awaken you.

At its root, Snowhite is a story of death and rebirth with the protagonist dying and coming back to life 3 times. Snowhite is killed firstly with a corset lace, then with a poisoned comb and finally with the famous apple. The deaths represent a change that involves body (the lace wrapped around the white skin), mind (the comb in the black hair) and heart (the red apple). Only after Snowhite evolves on all 3 levels she is ready for love and happiness.

As for now, Weiss has died twice. Firstly psychologically and then physically. Both times she metaphorically passes away, so that she can be reborn by unlocking a new summon, a symbol of her development and refinement:

A KNIGHT BORN FROM A MURDERED HEIRESS

Jacques: Which is why you are no longer the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company.

Jacques’s answer to Weiss’s wish to become a Huntress is to target her status as Heiress and to take it away.

Being the Schnee Heiress is what Weiss initially builds her self-identity on. She has contradictory feelings over her title, but she still perceives herself in relation to it. Having such a defining part of who she is stolen suddenly is a huge shock, that qualifies as a psychological passing. Weiss’s first death is the death of the Heiress.

After this trauma, Weiss finds herself trapped in her personal glass coffin:

They said, "We cannot bury her in the black earth," and they had a transparent glass coffin made, so she could be seen from all sides.

Jacques: From now on, I'll be giving you the full attention you require, starting by keeping you where I can see you.

Her room becomes a transparent prison where her father can always see and control her. It is a tomb for her to rot in.

However, Jacques understimates his daughter’s strength. Sure, the Heiress might be dead, but inside Weiss the Huntress is still alive:

She has more power and freedom than the Heiress and succeeds where her counterpart fails:

She is able to tame Weiss’s inner tourmoil by giving it a shape more refined than a beast. From an out of control boar to a ready to serve Knight:

Weiss’s Knight is her most famous summon and its meaning is complex and layered. First of all, it is originally an Arma Gigas, so Nicholas Schnee’s armour possessed by a Geist. Secondly, Weiss’s is able to summon its arm for the first time against an Atlesian Paladin-290, a robot overwritten to attack people.

These 2 details bring some thoughts. Weiss’s Knight is important both for her legacy theme (the Heiress) and for the girl’s indepedence (the Huntress). On the one hand Weiss purifying her grandfather’s armour from an Evil Spirit stands for her taking the family back from Jacques. It is a first step into making the Schnee legacy truly her own. On the other hand the juxtaposition between Weiss’s Knight and the Paladin shows that Weiss has no intention to live as a pawn. She is not a robot obeying orders, but a true hero that follows her mind and heart.

Finally, the Knight ties into Weiss’s duality by contrasting and complementing her Princess imagery. She is girly and wears a silver crown, but she is also a strong fighter that fears no opponent. Her initial battle against the Knight is about refusing the helpless little princess label. She is a full fledged individual and not a walking stereotype waiting to be saved. She is Weiss Schnee and needs no Knight in shining armor. As time passes, though, Weiss discovers she herself is a brave Knight and projects this part of who she is out through her semblance. This manifestation of her interiority becomes the Champion, who breaks the coffin and frees the Princess:

RISE OF THE WHITE QUEEN

Once psychologically free, Weiss is ready to physically leave home in order to explore the world as a Huntress. However, this new path is full of dangers:

The Queen Lancer embodies Weiss’s Royal Test and stands as the last obstacle between the girl and her new life. This is why our Snowhite’s fight against it is so important and pushes her to the limit. Throughout it she is asked to sacrifice a fighting style rooted in Dust and privilege (losing the cargo) and to embrace her new-found inner strength (summoning the Knight).

This battle is a physical test to Weiss’s determination to truly change. Will she manage on her own? Will she be fine without her family’s safety net? The whole conflict is really just a representation of the inner struggle between Weiss’s 2 halves:

There's a part of me that's desperate for changes, Tired of being treated like a pawn But there's a part of me that stares back from inside the mirror Part of me that's scared I might be wrong That I can't be strong.

And its resolution is not neat and tidy:

The Huntress defeats the beast, but fails to tame it, so her victory does not lead to integration, but only to mutual destruction. Similarly, The Knight kills the Queen, but does not save the Princess, who is instead kidnapped and threathened to be handed back to another “Evil Queen”:

Weiss: You're going to ransom me back to my father, is that it?

This happens because Weiss needs to prove herself a true Knight in order to escape the Evil Queen inside her once and for all. So, she is challenged over and over to define herself outside the Schnee name:

Vernal: Let's see what the Schnee name really means.

Weiss: I'm more than a name.

Vernal: Hm, prove it.

And she is negated any help from her family:

Weiss: What's going to make this complicated is when my sister finds out I didn't make it to Mistral. You know my sister, don't you? Winter Schnee? Special Operative of the Atlas Military? She's in Mistral now, and when she hears I'm missing, it won't take her long to find me - and you.

Vernal: Oh, I don't know if it's more funny or sad, but you're clearly out of the loop. Your sister isn't in Mistral anymore. No Atlas personnel are in Mistral anymore. General Ironwood closed the borders and recalled all his little troops and tin cans. No one is coming to rescue you.

These trials are to force Weiss to come through as her own person. However, this is not an easy process as it is obvious in Weiss’s fight against Vernal. There Weiss underperforms, can’t really find her rhythm and is mortally wounded by Cinder:

This is Weiss’s second death. Despite her determination and inner strength, the Huntress can’t survive such a cruel world completely alone. Luckily, it turns out this is not necessary for Weiss to truly become her own person. After all, self-identity is built also through the relationships with others. Even the bravest Knights need Princes:

Then the prince said, "Then give it to me, for I cannot live without being able to see Snow-White. I will honor her and respect her as my most cherished one."

As he thus spoke, the good dwarfs felt pity for him and gave him the coffin. The prince had his servants carry it away on their shoulders. But then it happened that one of them stumbled on some brush, and this dislodged from Snow-White's throat the piece of poisoned apple that she had bitten off. Not long afterward she opened her eyes, lifted the lid from her coffin, sat up, and was alive again.

Weiss dies, but Jaune saves her. The girl, who starts as a lonely Princess has now friends who love her for who she is. With their help, she can overcome everything life throws without depending on the Schnee name anymore. In this way, Weiss escapes her family’s control and can finally be crowned on her own terms:

The Queen that the Knight initially fights and the Huntress refuses is now purified of her negative traits and can appear in all her glory. She is not a tyrant or a ruler, but a protector that gains strength from her people and gives back twice as much. Not only that, but she is also a Lancer, a kind of Knight ready to fight side by side with her comrades. The Queen Lancer is then a synthesis between Weiss’s 2 initially conflictual halves. She is the Queen and the Knight, the Heiress and the Huntress, the mind and the heart. Weiss has finally become one:

Now this conversation's finally over, Mirror Mirror, now we're done I've pulled myself together now My mind and heart are one Finally one.

MIRROR MIRROR PART 2 - SNOWHITE’S QUEENDOM

Weiss leaves Atlas as a dead Heiress and comes back as a reborn Queen. This is why her new outfit looks so much like royalty:

It is like in the original fairy tale, where Snowhite becomes queen and meets her evil stepmother again:

Snow-White's godless stepmother was also invited to the feast. After putting on her beautiful clothes she stepped before her mirror and said:

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, Who in this land is fairest of all?

The mirror answered:

You, my queen, are fair; it is true. But the young queen is a thousand times fairer than you.

The Evil Queen stays a prisoner of the mirror until the end and fails to change. Weiss instead transforms and breaks the mirror in the process:

But I don't intend to suffer any longer Here's where your dominion falls apart I'm shattering the mirror that kept me split in pieces That stood between my mind and my heart This is where I'll start

Shattering the mirror is Weiss symbolically “killing” that side of her she initially despises. What’s surprising, though, is that this part is not really one of Weiss’s halves. Snowhite should not get rid of the Prince. The Knight should not murder the Queen. The Huntress should not cancel the Heiress. The point of Weiss’s story is to unify these contrasting facets of her personality. What really has to go is the barrier between them, so the mirror itself. But what does the mirror really stand for?

The mirror is a metaphor for abuse. It is the psychological prison Jacques has locked Weiss in since childhood, so that she would slowly grow into his reflection. Through this perspective, then, the mirror becomes the embodyment of Jacques himself and the image Weiss initially sees and doesn’t recognize is that of her father. As time passes, though, the Huntress faces her own shadows and integrates with them, while the Heiress slowly learns those undesirable parts of herself are actually Jacques. This is why in This Life is Mine she sings both to Jacques and to the Mirror, as if they were interchangeable. It is because she now sees they are actually the same.

Weiss pushes her father into the mirror, breaks it and finally exorcises him from who she is:

Weiss: Since Beacon, I haven't really had a choice. Father's view of the world no longer matches with mine.

In this way, the initially ad odds Huntress and Heiress discover themselves as one and defeat Jacques, not just psychologically, but physically too:

The Knight and the Queen work together and take their Kingdom back:

Robyn: What do you think a Kingdom is? The people, or just the chunk of land they live on?

Weiss’s Queendom is not the SDC, but rather her family, who was in pain because of the “Evil Queen”. Snowhite frees it and Willow, Whitley and Winter can now all start a path of forgiveness and reconciliation.

HAPPILY EVER AFTER

By the Atlas Arc, Weiss has fully grown into a powerful Queen ready to fight for her family and people:

Weiss: This is my home. And I'm not giving it up without a fight.

However, she is defeated by an Evil Stepmother even more powerful than Jacques (Salem) and by an older woman, who is envious of her (Cinder). Snowhite’s Queendom falls, Weiss’s family is left broken and she herself symbolically dies a third time:

It is still too soon to say if this is meant to be Snowhite’s third and final death or if we are gonna get some other reference to the fairy tale (like the famous and still missing apple). What’s sure is that our young Snowhite still has at least one more beast to tame:

The Nevermore is once again a representation of both the Heiress and the Huntress. On the one hand the Heiress is able to summon it because of her semblance (her legacy). On the other hand the Huntress has defeated it thanks to her team (her family).

In general, the Nevermore is an important symbol for team RWBY. It is the first Grimm they kill together and it keeps appearing in the girls’ respective arcs as a recurring motif. This has probably to do with the ideas and images associated to this specific Grimm. “Nevermore” is the opposite of “Happily Ever After”. It figuratively means “the end of all hopes” or a loss from which it is impossible to recover. This, coupled with the Grimm resembling a giant raven (an omen of bad luck), makes the beast a perfect metaphor for a bad ending. RWBY taking it on becomes then symbolic of the impossible odds they are trying to conquer.

Considering this, Weiss purifying the monster and turning it into an ally has the potential to be an extremely meaningful moment for her personal journey, RWBY and the story.

No matter how dark the situation might seem, the Nevermore will be changed into a Happily Ever After, the black will transform into white and Snowhite will be reborn once again:

The animals too came and mourned for Snow-white, first an owl, then a raven, and finally a dove.

#rwby #weiss schnee #rwby meta #my meta #semblance of the soul #once upon an allusion #snowhite #rwby snowhite

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itsclydebitches · 2 years

Note

have you seen the 'official volume 9 teaser' yet? it came with a plot summary which leaves me... less than enthused for the coming volume

After the harrowing events of Volume 8, our heroines are thrust into an unknown world--the Ever After! However, once Team RWBY explores this strange and mysterious realm, they quickly discover it might not be quite as unknown as they first assumed. As they journey to find a way back home, they'll have to overcome some of their toughest challenges yet--the struggle of their own identities, and whether or not they're equipped to stop Salem.

quite apart from the fact that this seems to confirm that we won't get an answer to 'what happened to everyone in Vacuo' until v10 (unless they give us something at the end of the v9 finale, and at this point I'm bracing for some kind of ridiculous timeskip on the remnant side, i just had the most vivid mental image of oscar with a full beard ;~;), I'm worried that 'the Ever After' is indeed going to be some kind of remnant afterlife (please leave my dead blorbos out of your shenanigans, RT!!!! let them sleep!!!!), or else it's some sort of Wonderland clone which I still don't trust them with, so idek

but also! what identity struggles? when have any of them really grappled with who they are or even their place in the world? blake, MAYBE, but everything to do with the white fang was so badly bungled i can't imagine them circling back around to that intentionally, especially since she was fixed by killing a man and some soft Hand Holding, meanwhile ruby never showed any indication of struggling with who she is, neither did yang--and it's odd, because loss of a parent (in yang's case, two, considering she lost both her mothers) is usually prime fodder for an identity crisis. the closest i can imagine coming is weiss, but wouldn't it had made more sense to tackle her struggle for an identity before having her drop a quippy one-liner about arresting her father?

not to mention the last part of that sentence--one would think they'd have stopped to consider whether or not they were equipped to stop salem when she boldly told them she was coming for them at the end of v7, rather than spending all of v8 fighting against their former allies and ignoring salem's presence entirely (with the exception of like five minutes of the b-team needlessly infiltrating the whale to save someone who'd already gotten himself free).

anyway, yeah, i'm so not excited for this coming volume. i'm just tired.

I’ve now watched the teaser!

There’s a lot to mention here, so I’m going to fall back on my handy-dandy bullet points:

Yeah, based on this teaser and the summary it looks as if Volume 9 might take place entirely in the Ever After. (I’m reserving judgement on the name for now. See if it grows on me...) Given how detailed some of the shots seem and the theory that this is partly why the Volume has taken so long (+ movie), I can’t believe the group would suddenly make it back to Vacuo in episode five or something as a “twist.” I’ve said since the end of Volume 8 that they might do a time skip/only show Vacuo in the finale. That’s looking even more likely now.

Pushing back against that though, a teaser obviously doesn’t show us everything, but I still find it strange that both this trailer and our summary don’t mention/show Jaune. It could be that Vacuo events haven’t been included yet the same way that Jaune hasn't. Or…

I’ve already seen some speculation that this might be Jaune, given that he otherwise doesn’t seem to be with the group, the Knight’s identity is currently hidden, and he’s wearing a warrior/tank's armor like Jaune favors. The idea is that this world might have pockets that move differently through time, especially for those who don’t fall close together, and this is an older Jaune who has spent months or years lost here. Honestly, I’d hate that? I don’t like the idea of a time skip for RWBY at all, but especially not for Jaune as a way of milking his Penny grief and separating him even more from the group as some special case. I mean, there’s no actual evidence for this theory—pure speculation that will likely be debunked by the next trailer—but I’m just going on the record that I don’t want it lol.

Okay, let’s actually start going through this trailer in order. First, who’s the narrator? It doesn’t sound like Jinn to me. I want to say it’s someone new, but also it’s quite possible I’m just not recognizing a character’s voice after the long hiatus.

“This is the story of a girl…” Is it? I mean, kudos to the teaser for trying to bring us back to that, but Ruby hasn’t felt like the protagonist to me in a very long time. If this Volume succeeds in anything, I hope it’s in giving Ruby the compelling, consistent development she’s been lacking since she left Beacon.

“Before she went back home…” This is absolutely a nitpick, but it bugs me that seven seconds into a teaser we’re told the conclusion of this arc. It’s a nitpick because duh the group is going to make it back to Remnant. I doubt there’s a single person in the whole RWBY fandom who seriously thought, for even a moment, that they were permanently dead (or permanently stuck in whatever alternate reality this might be). But it’s the principal of the thing? The ability to suspend my knowledge of narrative conventions and pretend like this is a major hurdle for them? Hearing that line just took me right out of the story

MOUSE FAMILIAR?

Hmm. Admittedly, I am not immune to an adorable companion. 10/10 I’ll put up with a lot if the mouse is cute enough in the show proper.

More importantly, I do like this shot for the expression Ruby’s got. It’s harder to tell in a screenshot, but she looks like she’s horrified, but too numb to actually react to whatever she’s seeing (or thinking about). Combined with this shot:

It looks like we might actually get a Ruby grappling with her trauma. I mean, we thought Volume 6 was doing that too, only for that to get swept away under a booo adults mentality, but maybe the death of Penny (again…) will do what the last five volumes have failed to? That's if that glimpse of Penny doesn't lead to all their dead friends showing up 😬

Beyond the emotion discussed above, I’m not really digging the animation yet. It’s clearly a mix of Alice in Wonderland and… Candyland? And while I normally like nonsense elements in a fantasy, I’m not sure I like it specifically for RWBY, a show that has been trying for the last 6+ years to be taken very, very seriously. Which isn’t to say that you can’t or shouldn’t take absurdist aspects seriously—they function as metaphors and the like—only that there’s this jarring disconnect between trying to grapple with half the group being eaten in a hostile desert while the other half frolics among cherry-topped snow piles and candy mushrooms, or whatever. Obviously not everything in this place is welcoming, or even presenting the veneer of child-like safety, but I’m still encountering the same problem I’ll discuss in my “A Nightmare Comes” recap: it’s really hard to buy into the supposed horror of this grimm when our vehicle for encountering it is bunny!Jaune huddled in his footie PJs while silly-looking statues threaten him. RWBY has struggled with tone for several seasons now and though clearly this place is meant to pit that fantasy wonder against the real horrors underneath… this teaser isn’t helping to convince me that RWBY will pull it off.

Also, who did it better?

(My answer is Witcher XD)

We get a line about “the tree,” not just “a” tree, confirming what we already suspected about this foliage being important. It might even be the same tree seen in the God of Light’s temple. Not literally the same in terms of design, but some mystical-esque tree that’s connecting this realm to Remnant’s.

We see some potential new antagonists alongside a shot of Neo:

And someone else who fell? Or accessed the realm another way? It certainly looked like the group washed up on shore and she seems to be coming from the ocean.

A Cheshire Cat reference, a crown, and quick shots of the rest of Team RWBY wandering about:

I like some of these shots a LOT more than I like the look of the realm as a whole, so I’m hoping that opinion continues. We’ve waited for this season for so long and there’s such an emphasis on Ever After itself, I feel like we should all at least be able to enjoy the beauty of the volume, even if the writing remains a mess. I really am flip-flopping though because one second it’s, “Oooo gorgeous leaves housing mysterious eyes” and then, “How did Jaune grow his hair long enough to cover a whole tree?”

I’ll be honest and say that I’m not sure what to make of the whole “What are you?” question yet. It may be literal—who are these humans/faunus to the animal denizens of a magical world? (Oh god, how is that going to intersect with Blake?) But it’s clearly meant to mean so much more than that, echoing the earlier question of “Who had [Ruby] become?” Immediately, the introduction of “what” made me think about titles. What are they? Heroes or villains? Huntsmen or children? Remnant’s saviors or just another, short term weapon pointed at the enemy? Given how well RWBY has tackled such questions in the past, I truly doubt I’ll be satisfied with whatever Ever After supposedly teaches them. R now my only hope is that, as said, we get some good Ruby development in a direction I can support, even if the general takeaway is still them being told by the magical realm that they’re the bestest heroes ever who of course will defeat Salem… never mind that they haven’t spent a moment since her immortality reveal even trying to think about how to stop her.

I sure hope that subdued, minuscule smile isn’t Yang seeing Blake for the first time post-death…

Finally, as a few others have already pointed out, the end of the teaser does say “early 2023,” so it looks like we should expect more of a six-ish month wait, as opposed to the nearly year and a half I was envisioning last night. The reveal of this crossover film (I'm still ??? about that) is likewise another explanation for why Volume 9 has taken so long… but really, my overall sense of things remains the same. RT doesn’t feel very stable right now and the fact that there are so many RWBY projects atm isn’t, to me, necessarily a sign of them flourishing, but rather that they’re spreading themselves thin. It would be a totally different story if post-lockdown they had been able to prioritize Volume 9 in a way that quickly got us back on schedule, maintaining good communication with fans throughout, and also advertised some side projects that they had additional resources and time for without throwing anything else (projects, people) under the bus… but that doesn't seem to be the case. RT’s continuing problems don’t, for me, shine a positive light on the myriad of RWBY things that keep popping up. As @feen-feet mentioned on another post of mine—thanks for the info!—I’m not sure more installments are automatically a sign of RT doing well, at least not in the way many fans want to use these projects as definitive evidence for how everything is not only perfect, but reaching new and shiny heights.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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xlbrh · 4 years

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Genshin Impact - Arguments with their s/o

notes : omg guys i hit 100 followers on here!!!

honestly it makes me so happy to see the support on my posts, it really does motivate me to continue writing on a daily basis

i’m accepting requests atm so if you have any specific requests for a headcanon or prompt then don’t be afraid to let me know and i’ll try my best!!

i hope i can continue to provide you with this small piece of happiness, going forwards into the future!!🥰

Genshin Masterlist

warnings : arguments

format : bulleted, headcanons

pairings : diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, xiao, albedo x gn! reader

word count : 873

everything under the cut-

Diluc:

they wouldn’t happen often, since diluc is a relatively calm man

but if something has bothered him enough for it to be brought up in an argument, then you know it must be serious

his words would be harsh and his tone stern – not because he wants to intimidate you, but because he wants you to realise the seriousness of the situation

would not appreciate it if you shouted at him, although he hates it he would not be scared to shout back

the same would apply if you initiate it, even when he knows he’s in the wrong his pride would sometimes stop him from admitting that

would definitely give you space, sometimes even to the point of outright avoiding you until you approach him again

though he will always apologise first, letting his conscience get the better of him

Kaeya:

probably the most likely to instigate arguments out of the boys

he really does like to push your buttons sometimes – but on occasion will take things too far without realising

but he’s also not afraid to lecture you when he thinks you’ve done something wrong, even if you yourself cannot see it

would challenge you if you did the same to him, so you can see why things can blow up sometimes

will let his emotions get the better of him sometimes – and if it gets really bad the fight may last for a few days

if you guys live together he would go and stay in his office at the knights’ headquarters, giving you both some space of a while

but he would always come back to you, usually with some flowers and chocolate as an apology

for sure would take you out on a date as soon as you make up

Childe:

arguments can happen from time to time

usually started by you if he throws himself into danger just for the thrill, or he takes his teasing a little too far

although there’s never bad intentions it can happen, especially when you’ve already had a bad day

started by him when you get hurt without him around to protect you

in childe’s mind that’s your way of telling him you don’t need him, which is obviously wrong but out of anger he can’t see this

they don’t tend to last for long – at most for the night – before they’re resolved the following day

emotions just build and are let out, once you both talk things out and apologise, things go back to normal

though if something in particular has bothered him, he is the type to bring it up again in the future

Zhongli:

arguments would be extremely rare

zhongli wouldn’t let many things bother him – they usually only do when your safety is on the line

would never, ever raise his voice

no matter the situation or how agitated he gets, he knows shouting will do no good

much prefers to talk things out like civilised adults, sorting out any conflict within a matter of minutes

of course that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t allow you to express your emotions to him, even if that means you end up crying and shouting at him

rather than getting worked up himself he would stay calm and composed – this way he can always calm you down if anything gets out of hand

even when an argument is caused over something insignificant, he would apologise and try his best to make you happy again

Xiao:

arguments with you break his heart, so he avoids them at all costs

as soon as he can sense either himself or you getting annoyed, he does his best to get rid of any stress as soon as possible

would probably go to zhongli for advice on matters like these – he really doesn’t want to mess things up with you and scare you away

though things like these are inevitable for couples, so at some point it will happen

he would try to stay as calm as possible but his emotions would take over, especially if you were in danger

is the type of guy to hold it against himself if he shouts at you, after all adepti should protect humans, not scare them

he would admit to his mistakes and cast his pride aside, so you’d also have to comfort him so he feels comfortable again

Albedo:

he would have the same type of approach as zhongli – staying calm and collected

most conflict would probably just be you worrying about him overexerting himself with his experiments

more than once you’ve had to assist him home due to how exhausted he gets

he tries to justify his research and the lengths he’ll go to get answers, but you don’t always understand – not that he can blame you

usually he’ll just let you vent out your worries, acknowledging them but not taking anything to heart too much

unless it makes you cry, in which case he would try his hardest to understand your views to the fullest

if for some reason he initiates the conflict, it would be cool and methodical, his calm voice preventing you from raising yours

rather than being arguments, they would more so just be conversations of mutual worry over each other

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chipper-smol · 3 years

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Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws

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By @daikoski

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

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By @cloudcryptid

#hollowknight #hollow knight #palejesterau #telephoneknight #the pale king #lemm #ghost #hornet

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