#welcome to the real world where you have to make hard choices | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

so-so-woso · 1 year ago

Text

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

#woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #woso fanfics #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson

461 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 17 days ago

Note

Thank you so much for all the work you do💗

I was wondering if you have any long human au fics with lots of angst and a happy ending? Again thank you!!

You're welcome! We have #long fic, #human au, and #angst tags where there will be plenty of overlap, so do dip into those. Here are more for you...

Lessons in the Humanities by Greenathena (M)

Aziraphale Fell teaches English at Eden Midtown Academy. His new co-worker, Anthony Crowley, is a bit of a wild card, who doesn't mind ruffling a few feathers. Over the course of the school year, their friendship seems to be growing into something more. That is until Aziraphale is offered a high-stakes job, overseeing state testing for the whole of the Massachusetts Department of Education. They're in love, your honor. Possibly. Probably. It's ineffable complicated.

What is forgiveness but the silence after a scream? by Moonstone_Lingo (M)

After being forced to return to the town he once ran away from decades ago when he hears of his mother's death, Aziraphale is confronted with a past he wants to forget, but one that is hauntingly insistent on being relived. When a chance encounter with a stranger reveals that Crowley is not far away at all, Aziraphale must consider which he cares about more: his belief in God or his love for Crowley, and not wanting to choose, he quickly discovers he cannot have both. Unsure whether it is already too late, Aziraphale learns that he has to fight for what he wants before it slips out of his grasp. or "God loves you, Crowley." "not enough to stop hurting me." "I love you, Crowley." "not enough to save me."

As Yet Untitled by badwolfgirlicouldkissyou (E)

Aziraphale Fell is a number one best-selling author, despite his lack of self confidence and desire to hide from the public eye. Whilst fighting off his anxiety disorder at the premiere of his first novel's feature film adaptation, he meets an enigmatic, mysterious photographer who seems to only have eyes for him. Can they navigate their newfound bond? Or will past trauma and current obstacles get in their way?

Adaptive Innovations for a Changing World by amelia_airheart (E)

When Anthony Crowley meets Aziraphale Fell at Aziraphale's library, little do they know that they will turn each other's worlds upside down. After a magical week spent falling in love, they face a hard reality. Will they be able to make the choices they need to make to build a real life together?

And the fire will consume us by Merlarme (M)

Crowley works as a firefighter. One day he rescues Aziraphale, a paramedic, who is trapped in a burning building. Grateful Aziraphale decides to find his rescuer and, after getting to know him a little better, realises that they have a lot in common and are both so lonely that the accident that brought them together turned out to be a true grace.

Sinking Ships by AppleSeeds (E)

The world is practically on fire and it feels like nobody's doing anything about it, but Crowley's outlook brightens considerably when a new member arrives at his local climate action committee. Crowley is immediately smitten, and is thrilled when he and Aziraphale become fast friends, although he can't help but hope they might one day become something more. When all of his wishes come true, Crowley starts to feel like life couldn't possibly get any better. He can picture exactly what his future is going to look like, until something happens that feels like a powerful bolt of lightning has struck and split Crowley's life right down the middle, with everything before that moment on one side, and everything that is to come - scorched, lifeless and devastated - on the other. With the help of a counsellor, Crowley begins the difficult journey of picking up the pieces and working through what's happened. When Aziraphale unexpectedly comes back into his life, Crowley finally has the chance to get some answers, revealing that the truth is very different from what he was led to believe. Now he just needs to figure out whether that changes anything.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #angst #long fic #adult omens #mod d

51 notes · View notes

electricneonvalkyrie · 19 days ago

Text

Holiday Headcanons for a WLF Christmas:

(Awkward Crush Energy Turned Up to 11)

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄

✨️Abby tries to help you with your gingerbread house. Instead, she accidentally crushes one of the walls with her heavy-handed decorating. “Guess it’s more of a… fixer-upper now,” she mumbles.

✨️While hanging decorations, Abby steadies you by the waist as you reach for the top of the tree. Her hands linger, her breath warm against your neck as she says, “Careful. Don’t want you falling.”

✨️Abby tries to hang tinsel but ends up tangled in it. When you laugh and offer to help, she awkwardly says, “Nah, I’ve got it. Totally planned this.” She’s still stuck five minutes later.

✨️You mention how pretty the candles look. Abby immediately says, “You’re prettier,” then freezes and gracelessly adds, “Uh, objectively. From a lighting perspective.”

✨️Abby sits on the couch, replaying every interaction with you in her head. “Why didn’t I just say something cool?” she mutters. Manny, walking by, snarks, “Because you’re a disaster.”

✨️Abby sketches you as a secret gift but chickens out. Manny finds the sketch, smirks, and says, “Nice portrait. What’s next, wedding invitations?”

✨️Abby uses duct tape to wrap your gift because she doesn’t know how to wrap properly. When you struggle to open it, she says, “You’re welcome. Consider it strength training.”

✨️Abby finds an extra gift she meant to give you and spends the next hour debating whether to run to your apartment and deliver it. Manny finds her pacing and says, “Abs, just do it.”

✨️Abby bakes cookies to impress you, but they come out like rocks. When you try to eat one anyway, she yells, “No! Those are… tactical paperweights. Don’t ruin your teeth.”

✨️On Christmas Eve, Abby starts to say, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something…” but chickens out halfway and switches to, “You’re standing in front of the snacks.”

✨️Abby fills in as Santa for a WLF children's event but tries to act cool about it. When you tease her, she smirks and says, “Careful, or you’ll end up on my naughty list.”

✨️Abby sneaks into the Christmas party early to hang a small stocking with your name on it, filled with scavenged treats. When you ask who did it, she shrugs. “Santa?”

✨️Abby shows up to the Christmas party wearing her best flannel, hoping to catch your eye. Manny smirks. “Ah, yes, the ‘gay lumberjack’ look. Bold choice.” Abby punches his arm — hard.

✨️Abby spends the evening subtly checking on you. “Just making sure you’re not cold,” she says, draping her jacket over you for the third time. You're indoors.

✨️Abby offers you her chair and says, “I don’t need to sit.” Then awkwardly looms behind you, not sure where to go next. Manny whispers, “Real subtle.”

✨️Abby notices the mistletoe above you, panics, and ducks to tie her shoe instead. “No mistletoe rules for people on the floor,” she mumbles, totally unconvincing.

✨️Manny puts up mistletoe and tries to push Abby under it with you. She “accidentally” trips him into the punch bowl instead.

✨️You make a joke, and Abby laughs way too loud. Everyone stares. “It was funny!” she insists, crossing her arms and trying not to turn bright red.

✨️Manny loudly declares, “Abby’s single, by the way!” Abby threatens him with a candy cane to the jugular. You? Giggling. Abby? Mortified.

✨️Abby takes a sip of eggnog and tries to act casual. “You know,” she says, “this tastes like… how I feel about you. Sweet, but also confusing.”

✨️When you inevitably end up under the mistletoe again, Abby takes a deep breath and says, “I could just kiss you and call it tradition, but… I really want you to know it’d mean something to me.” The soft look in your eyes afterward? She’s thinking about it for the rest of the night.

✨️As the night winds down, Abby’s hand hovers near yours, trembling slightly before she takes it. “You have no idea how hard it is for me to stay away from you,” she whispers.

✨️When the last candle flickers low and the world feels still, Abby approaches, hands shoved deep into her pockets. She hesitates, her jaw tightening as if she’s fighting a battle within herself. Finally, she looks up at you, her tone more tender than you’ve ever heard it. “I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length… thinking it was safer that way,” she begins, her words slow, deliberate. “But this year, I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to lose what’s right in front of me.” Her gaze locks on yours, and she steps closer, her voice dipped with a fragile softness. “I want to make more time for the things that matter. For you.”

✨️After walking you to your door, Abby leans in for a hug. But instead of pulling back, she pauses, her lips just a breath away from your ear. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispers, her voice low, carrying a weight that makes your stomach flip. Her fingers graze your back, lingering as if she’s afraid to let go. The closeness, the warmth of her breath against your skin, leaves your head swimming, the world narrowing to just her. “Tell me to stay.”

Love,

(Formerly) DeepOuterSpaceCandy 🌙🩷

Wishing you so much love and all the best things in life. I’m not ✨️back✨️ but I wanted to put some soft Abby into the ether. Be gentle with yourselves—this season and always.

#abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby x masc!reader #tlou2

45 notes · View notes

fangsyouverymuch01 · 1 year ago

Text

Just friends

Summery: The hero of Baldur's Gate greatest battlefield is now drunkenly returning home from the tavern because your connection to the arcane world is dying, and it has been for months. Adding to it, is your unresolved feelings from a certain vampire you've sworn to forget.

Rolan and Lia, aiding you in your search for answers, are determined to divert your mind from troubles. Unbeknownst to you, this night is destined to change everything.

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav, Astarion x f!reader , Rolan x reader

Warnings: Fightning, sort of depressed reader, drinking, Astarion being a prick

Tags: Slow burn, friends to lovers

Note: This took way too long to write, and tbh I'm scared to publish it. Had a hard time coming up with a plot that would make sense (and yes this is the underdark/menzoberranzan fic)

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy and stick around for more parts in the future.

In front of you is an array of literature varying from books, scrolls and notes. Just like yesterday and the day before that. Picking up yet another scroll and unrolling it, the words painted on it turns into a blur. Arcane symbols dance before your eyes but the contents of the page escapes your fleeting mind and it drifts to past memories of Moonrise Towers.

“...And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he pauses, searching for the right words to continue. “You’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Stunned by his confession, your own voice momentarily failed you. The Elf spoke again, revealing a truth that cut through your heart like a blade.“Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

Astarion further explains his train of thought, you could see his mouth moving but not a word reached your ears. Sadness, confusion, happiness and anger; the emotions mixed and collided within you. Was your relationship built on lies? Had you somehow forced him to sleep with you? It was all so much.

“I don't know how else to be with someone, No matter how much I’d like to.”

You’d decided to remain just friends, and it had felt like the right choice. Liberating even, seeing Asterion grow into a person no longer controlled by fear. But now, you wallowed in selfishness due to your aching heart. Now it is the thing that keeps you from focusing on the task ahead. Now it is the thing keeping your from nights embrace, your body twisting and turning when the moon shone through the curtains. Now it is the numb feeling whilst faceless men sing your name between your legs. The decision, made with the intention of preserving your friendship, now felt as liberating as a chain strung to your neck.

Moreover, you haven't seen him in weeks - or could it be months? The passage of time blurs and certainly eludes you. Yet, effortlessly, his image flits into your head - bouncy white curls, piercing crimson eyes, a sharp nose and that godsdamn smirk. Interchangeable in your memory - forever young - he remains a vivid specter that refuses to fade.

Breaking your train of thought, there is a tap on your shoulder, a figure crouching over you to peer at the discoveries revealed in the scroll.

“Found anything of interest?” Rolan spoke, eyeing you from above.

“Ehm no, just lost in thought.” you replied, attempting to shake off the lingering memories that had clouded your focus.

“Well, neither have I.” he puffed out a breath of air, “My best bet is to return to the House of Grief for more answers so I could study the mirror you spoke off.”

“I’m not sure they’d warmly welcome me back after my latest visit.” you let out a strained chuckle, struck by a memory of Viconas lifeless person as Shadowhearts struck the merciless final blow to her chest.

Since your time in the House of Grief, your bond with magic has slowly dwindled. The once-familiar currents of arcane energy now seemed distant. Magic had been an extension of you, and its absence felt akin to a cruel mutilation and you were desperate to feel magic coursing through your veins once more. Your desperation had led you here - Sorcerous Sundries, for any clue or hope that you might become whole again.

"Anyhow, have you heard from Gale yet?" you inquired, seeking a distraction from your thoughts.

"He deemed Waterdeep fruitless in our search and should be arranging plans to continue in Neverwinter as we speak," Rolan replied, his eyes pacing the floorboards beneath him. "Maybe we should pause our search for today; the sun is setting, and you, my friend, are in desperate need of a drink." His suggestion hung in the air, a respite offered amidst your futile search for answers.

You had no energy to protest, you truly wanted to go, you really did. But what you needed was to dive into the mountains of untouched texts sprawled in a ring in front of you.

Lazily tracing the arcane figures, partly lost in deliberation you answer “Thank you for the offer but I shouldn’t, you go and I’ll stay here.”

"Come on, just one drink. It won't solve all our problems, but it might provide a momentary escape," he insisted, recognizing the heaviness in your gaze. "We can resume our search tomorrow with clearer minds. Trust me, it's what you need right now."

A defeated sign escapes your lips “Fine, one drink but no more than that”.

Laying a victorious touch on your arm, the tiefling grinned, "That's the spirit!" Helping you up, he proceeded, "The Elf Song in an hour; I need to run something by Lia first." With determined steps, he led you away from your search for answers in the pile of books.

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

The warm light emanating from the Elfsongs' painted windows cast a glow over your figure as you linger outside the bustling door. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses weave together, that should beckon you inside but it doesn't. Nothing seems to pique your interest these days. The hero of Baldurs Gate was but a mere shell of what bards sang about and the thought of being recognized, of eyes filled with anticipation that lingers for extraordinary tales to be told - you can't stand it.

Adding to your dread, are the invasive questions about your companions - about Astarion. Head spinning and lips slowly drooping to frown, you instinctively recoil from the entrance.

With a heavy sigh, you reach into your bag, fingers wrapping around a familiar flask. The cool metal brings a small comfort, and in contrast your throat burns as you gulp down liquid courage.

Stealing yourself against the prying questions and the weight of everyone's expectations, you push open the tavern door, stepping into the warm embrace of the tavern, where Rolan and Lia await, immersed in their own stories. You offer them a weak smile as you approach the booth.

“There you are, I almost thought you wouldn’t show but I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“Come, sit!” Lia urges, patting the cushion beside her. As you settle into the booth, you can't help but notice the curious eyes around you.

Gods no.

Instinctively, your finger twirls and you mutter a spell to cast disguise self, only to be reminded of your uselessness. A tinge of frustration tightens your jaw, quickly masked by a forced smile. You divert your gaze, hoping to shield yourself from the unwanted attention.

“What’s your poison for today?” Lia asks, a mischievous smile spreading from cheek to cheek. Her breath smells of alcohol; Lia and Rolan had clearly begun drinking ahead of you. Not that you could judge them, having indulged in your trusted flask outside the tavern minutes ago.

“I’ll have what you’ve had.”

“Coming right up!” Lia responds, her enthusiasm undeterred. She signals the bartender, and soon enough, a trio of drinks arrives at the table.

Rolan is the first to grip the glass and then clear his throat, “To us, and Gale - and hope that tomorrow will give us more answers.”

One drink turns into four drinks, and at some point, you lose track of both time and the units you’ve allowed to warm your gullet. Honestly it’s quite funny, why did you worry so much before? Silly you with silly thoughts! Almost as silly as Rolan’s eyes focused on your neck. He looks funny with his eyebrows furrowed, and a chuckle escapes your lips at the sight.

“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep staring at my neck like that, Rolan.”

“I did no such thing!” he retorts as a flush creeps up on the tiefling's cheeks.

Lia heartily laughs, swaying a bit, and offers her hand to you. “Join me for a dance, will you?” The music in the tavern entices you and despite the blurred lines of inebriation, you take Lia’s hand and step into the lively dance floor.

Lia practically dragged you through the crowded tavern, Rolan following closely behind to his best abilities. The dance floor was filled with twirling bodies, in rhythm with the bard's melodies. Pulling your arm up, Lia spins and chuckles as you reach the bards scene. Rolan, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, reaches the two of you and joins the dance. The world seems to sway with the music and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile spreads across your face.

As you moved to the music, you sensed Rolans’ proximity. His hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you through the intricate steps of the dance. The unfamiliar warmth of his hand against your skin was a stark contrast to the memories of Asterion's cool touch.The bard's music kept on playing, the tunes bouncing off the plucked strings, the odor of alcohol on his breath, and hot uncontrolled bodies clashing against your person - Gods, its too much. You can't stay a minute longer or you might suffocate.

“I need some air,” you mumble and offer an apologizing smile, excusing yourself as the dance continues without you.

“Wait!” a muffled voice calls out, but you pretend that you’re too far off to hear.

Faces blurred into a sea of strangers, and the lively chatter became an indistinguishable hum. Your breath quickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling of faceless men and women judging your every step. Because now they know - they know that you were no hero of Baldur's gate, just another drunk who couldn’t even cast a simple spell to disguise herself from embarrassment.

Pathetic.

As you stepped out into the cool night air, the contrast between the warmth of the dance floor and the refreshing chill outside sent shivers down your spine. Crouching down you plant your hands to your knees, trying to catch your breath and ease your mind.

A moment later, the tavern door swung open abruptly, an curly haired man emerging as he wrestled with another almost feral one. The creature thrashed and snarled at the curly haired man as he strained against the frenzied movements. Caught off guard, you stood up in the shadow beside the entrance, your breath hitching again as you observed the scene unfold.

Seizing the opportunity to make sense of the situation, you assertively approached the struggling men, dagger clutched and ready strike if needed. The curly-haired man's eyes flickered toward you and your gaze met his.

Deep crimson eyes, ivory curls, and are those fangs?

No, that can't be.

"Astarion?" you uttered, your voice a hushed whisper that sliced through the night, your eyes fixed on the elf's face in utter disbelief. There he was, right before you.

Astarion's attention shifted to the rabid man, deftly maneuvering to subdue him. He restrained the creature, halting any further erratic movements. With precision, Astarion extracted a flask from his belt, causing the man's struggles to intensify. Despite the increased resistance, Astarion's actions remained calculated and exact.

With the man momentarily contained, Astarion secured him in place with one hand, the other retrieving a flask. He raised it to his mouth, a subtle glint of fangs emerging as he skillfully removed the lid with his teeth.

"Hello," the rogue spoke, pausing to inject the man with the unfamiliar substance. The feral struggles ceased, and Astarion continued, his tone now imbued with a nuanced warmth, "darling."

Stunned you remain constrained where you stood. This is real, Astarion is here after days, weeks and months of him plaguing your thoughts every waking moment. Your mind races, trying to process the surreal present. A rumble in your stomach seems to pull you out of your trance, nausea spreading in your throat.

Keep. it. down.

“Care to help or do you intend to stand there and just gawk?”

Once more the door beside you swung open, a tall figure emerges with swaying strands of long hair catching in the wind, intent on reaching the paralyzed man and Astarion.

“We said no killing, remember?" he spoke.

"Oh, my apologies, brother. I must have forgotten our little agreement when I was wrestling the feral dog whilst you were nowhere to be seen.”

At that moment, you recognized the man - Leon. His expression remained stoic, though a flicker of irritation crossed his features. "Your theatrics aren't amusing, Astarion. We need to keep them alive; this is not the time nor place for you to display your unique methods."

You finally had a surge to act, fumbled in your bag and searched for any potion or scroll that could help. A glass vial of what seemed to be a healing potion met your fingers, and you pulled it out, unscrewing the cap with shaky hands.

“Here take this,” you called out, holding the potion aloft, offering a forced smile amidst the charged atmosphere.

As you step forward to give Leon the vial, Rolan stumbles out the tavern door, tipsy and eyes searching for something in the night. You’d completely forgotten about Rolan and Lia, they’d probably been worried since you hadn’t returned. His eyes widened at the chaotic scene before him, and he instinctively moved to stand in front of you, a protective gesture. His hand flickered with a small flame, ready to defend against any potential threat.

"What in the hells is happening here?" Rolan demanded, a mix of concern and bewilderment in his voice.

Before anyone could respond, Astarion let out a small laugh, one that you couldn't seem to decipher the meaning of. What was so funny? Rolan certainly wasn't amused, and the flame rose higher from his palm at the elf's dismissive laugh. Leon's gaze moved to Rolan, his hands raising in a gesture of peace, showing that they were no threat to him or you.

“Got yourself a knight in shining armor, have you now?” Astarion remarked, a sly grin playing on his lips.

Knight in shining armor? The words stung, and a spark of anger flared within you. Rolan didn't need to save you nor did you want him to. Opening your mouth to retort, Leon interjected, his voice firm and commanding.

“Astarion, don’t,” Leon snapped at him, a stern edge to his voice. He then looked directly at you, his expression softening. “We don’t want to fight you. Let's find a quieter spot to talk, and we’ll explain everything.”

You nodded, the tension in the air making it clear that this was not the time for confrontation. Rolan, still wary but trusting your judgment, lowered the flame in his palm. With cautious glances exchanged between the group, you began to move away from the chaotic scene, guided by Leon's lead to a more secluded spot where answers awaited.

233 notes · View notes

xxxdreamscapexxx · 9 months ago

Text

Sacrifices series: Chapter 3: Face to face with a monster

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 8k

Series Summary: After closing the Darkhold, Wanda struggled to find her place in the word. Until she met you that is. And in you, she found hope. But the past has a way of coming back and she’s faced with an impossible choice once again. A choice that’s going to break her heart. Chapter summary: Finding the layer, doesn't mean she's captured the monster, who was terrorizing the city and Wanda needs to see you at least once, before she has to go back to her hunt, but it seems the sorcerer has plans of his own...

Warning: angst!; emotional trauma; Hurt - No Comfort ; Blood, human sacrifice, gory details of a mutilated body, dark magic... violence, possession, manipulation; That should be it, but in case I missed anything, please let me know. Also, Reader will be making a very small appearance in this chapter, but she has a significant role to play in the future. Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Wanda dropped the piles of books in her trunk, closing it with a loud thud as she looked at the building in the distance. She could see agents coming in and out, carrying objects, while others were escorting people out. Even from afar, she could see those people were scared, worried where they’ll live next, how they’ll afford it. They held their children close, protective, even in their fear. So brave. She knew what it was like to be displaced, to have your whole life ripped from you, to watch it all crumble down in an instant. She knew how much courage it took, to make the next step, and the one after that… She didn’t know how she’ll interview all these people tomorrow. She didn’t know if she’ll be able to carry the burden of their pain and grief as well. Yet, there was no one else to do it. Only she knew what to look for, what to ask… Only she knew how to get the information that even they didn’t know they could have.

The prospect of invading so many minds, of taking on so many lives filled her with pain. All she wanted was to curl in a ball, her head in your lap. She wanted to feel your hands run through her hair, soothing and soft. She wanted to feel you close once more, to have you fully wrapped around her, until she could forget that this ever happened. She wanted peace. She wanted what was stolen from her. But she couldn’t have any of it back, until she defeats this monster first… Even after being in his apartment, after coming so close to him, she had no idea how to find him. He had left no clues as to his next move, or his plans. None that she could see. But the agents will go more thoroughly through his things and have a report for her by tomorrow morning. Perhaps they’ll find something. Until then, she was free to go home and rest. But the compound, with its grey walls felt nothing like the cozy home she had with you. Her room never felt as welcoming as the shared bedroom she had with you. It was all so empty without you. She found no joy in cooking now, since she had no one to share her meals with. She found no joy in walks, since it always reminded her of the days she’d take you and Bella out to different parks to walk and play… Even her sitcoms brought little comfort. Yes, no one got hurt in them, it wasn’t that kind of show. But the real world was nothing like a sitcom. People got hurt every day, they were hungry and poor and lived on streets with nothing but the mercy of strangers to help them face the next day. There were so many in pain. When she remembered that, it was always so hard to fight back the inner voice that told her that she could fix it all. She was the Scarlet Witch after all. She was born to rule the world. It was her birthright. Her destiny. She could make sure that no one got hurt ever again, that no child was ever orphaned, no one ever had to leave their loved ones, no one had to get hurt. She could do that. Wanda could feel the magic rising within her, the raw power of chaos opening up doors for her that were closed to everyone else. She could do anything. She could win this fight with the snap of her fingers. She could erase evil from this world. And they would all thank her for it. Those poor people that she watched get evacuated. They would all be so grateful. They would worship her, just as they were meant to…

Wanda shook her head, blinking a few times, until her eyes focused once more. Red whisps of magic were swirling around her, her blackened fingers moving through the air. She was casting. Not that she knew what. But she knew she needed to get her emotions under control. Keeping the darkness at bay was much harder, when it promised everything she ever wanted. She could have Pietro back. Her boys. And her parents. She could win you back too. If that didn’t work, she could always make you forget she ever left… “No!” She shook her head in defiance. She knew better than to listen to those thoughts. She crawled her way back from an emotional hell, fighting such thoughts. She knew better than to trust them. With a final glance towards the grey building, that seemed to stand like a hungry giant over the people below, she got into her car and drove away. She was done for today. And now she could finally see you. She could finally drive back to your house, she could see you again, hear your voice… She could feel human again for a few minutes. The redhead drove slowly, her windows rolled down, so she could breathe in the fresh air. She needed to get the stench of that place out of her nose, out of her hair and her clothes. She felt dirty. And she almost felt bad for making her way to you, covered in such filth. Then again, it’s not like she was going to knock on your door. Then again… Why shouldn’t she? Why should she deny herself this one thing, this one kindness, when she has sacrificed so much already? What was to stop her from knocking? From walking in… Who could stand in her path, should she choose to pull you in her embrace. Who had the power to stop her? She could kiss you again. Taste you and feel you, like she’s been dreaming of. She could…

“No!” She almost screamed, hitting the breaks. It was just in time too, a pedestrian was crossing the street, standing frozen in fear of her approaching car. She was seconds away from hitting him. She almost didn’t stop. She had barely even seen him. It took the man a moment to get a hold of himself, before he ran the rest of the way to the other end of the street, looking back at her with fearful, yet angry eyes. Wanda couldn’t blame him. But she also couldn’t quite bring herself to care. She could tell that something was wrong. She wasn’t usually like this. Distracted, careless, cold. She didn’t have such dark thoughts either. Not usually. She was much better at controlling them. She studied calming techniques, meditation, she went through every enlightenment course she could find, looking for a way to keep herself in check, but it was especially hard this time. There was just this voice, in the back of her head, a low murmur that had found its way in and just wouldn’t leave her alone. How long has she been hearing it? This voice. Why was it trying to get her to come to you? Except… That’s not quite what it wanted. You were just a suggestion. A means to an end. A way for her to give in. Yes, that’s what it wanted. It wanted her to give in. Wanted her to unleash her powers. Wanted to set the Scarlet Witch free. It wanted her to use that magic inside. It wanted her to let all that chaos loose and never stop.

The honking of cars behind her startled Wanda out of her thoughts and into motion. She sped away from the spot with a heavy heart and she contemplated if she should even come see you tonight. It was dangerous in her state. It was almost reckless, tempting herself like that. Especially with how off she’d been feeling and acting. It would be a mistake… She was once again pulled from her thoughts, when she saw something strange out of the corner of her eye. She was driving past some neighbourhood, all the houses framing the road. But something was wrong. She could feel eyes on her. She could see old ladies in their kitchens, looking out the windows, mothers with strollers, not even looking at where they were going, too busy staring at her… Men, who openly followed her car, as she drove. And then something else. A man with eyes so black, there was no white left in them and a face so sunken in, it looked stolen from a cadaver. A man, who seemed to smile at her, as if seeing an old friend, before he turned away from the road and walked away. Wanda hit the brakes so hard, she almost hit her head on the steering wheel from the force. She felt shaken, like she had witnessed something important, something she should be better at naming. Like she was walking in the dark, her eyes closed, allowing herself to be led. She realized that this place was not her usual route to your house, that she’s never even been here. Just as she realized that whoever this man was, he knew to expect her. He had felt her presence here, known of her arrival, he was watching her, before his eyes ever fell upon her… But how? She pulled the car over and locked it, using her magic to seal the trunk, just to make sure that the books inside wouldn’t “disappear” while she was chasing whatever this was. She had to walk a little, to reach the spot she first saw him, and she looked around nervously to see where he might have went. The eyes of strangers followed every step she took, not even considering to hide their actions, yet none of them approached her. Wanda could almost smell that same sweet, yet repulsive smell she had first felt when she entered the building she was inspecting. The one where He used to live. It was faint, but unmistakable and a strange sense of longing washed over her. A desire to breathe in deeply. To let herself be intoxicated. The voice in her head salivated at the prospect. Hungry.

She decided to ignore it. Pushing back against the low whisper, that told her to give in. Instead she started to walk in the direction she saw him turn. Beyond the first street, the houses started to look poorer, the yards smaller, the windows covered. She could see dogs sometimes, uneasy and nervous, barking in warning, but never really getting close. They were scared. Just like the people who lived here. But scared of whom? The sorcerer? She couldn’t tell. As she walked, the voice in the back of her head, the one she knew to be the witch within, kept warning her. There was danger here. She could feel it. There was darkness too. And the eyes that followed her on the street, seemed to watch her here too. It made her feel surrounded on all sides.

“It’s a trap.” Her inner voice warned. She could feel herself tensing up, readying for a battle, all her senses on high alert. Her magic was just at the tip of her fingers, making her eyes glow that deep scarlet she knew so well, yet there was no one around. At this point she almost hoped someone would try to make a move. Give her an excuse to release all that pent up energy inside, yet no one did. Eventually the street came to a sudden end, a single entrance to a building signifying her only way forward. The door had a padlock and a rusty chain to keep out intruders, runes covering the links in protection. “Pathetic.” Wanda laughed bitterly, the words loud enough to be heard if someone was nearby. That same energy she felt swirling just beneath the surface suddenly came forth, pouring out of her in a burst and shooting forward. It crashed against the building, taking the whole door and parts of the surrounding wall with it, a loud bang ringing in her ears as it fell to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and she waited for it to settle, not wanting to breathe any of it in, before she finally walked forward. The ridiculous chain was still in takt, the runes glowing a dull grey. She laughed humourlessly once more, stepping inside the building and looking around, her steps echoing off the walls. “One chain?” She called out in a challenge. “I can take down the whole building.”

Her voice rang clearly in the large space, that seemed to have been a factory or a storage hanger once, but no response actually came. There was just silence, mixed with that sweet, yet repulsive smell again. “It’s too easy.” Her inner awareness warned, a low hiss in her ear that she felt an almost compulsive need to swat away, even if it was coming entirely from within. Met with no response, Wanda walked further inside, studying the building wearily. In all honesty, she was getting impatient with this whole charade. She didn’t want to be here, playing hide and seek with a psychopath. She wanted to be at the house with you. She wanted you in her arms again, wanted to have you in a tight embrace and breathe you in. Wanted, no craved your warmth against her stiffened, aching muscles. She explored the floor, impatiently walking around, being met with nothing but decay and ruin. There was nothing but old junk, dust and the unmistakable signs of rats and pigeons taking over the building and claiming it as their own. It looked abandoned. But she wouldn’t be here if it really was abandoned, would she? He wouldn’t try to put protective runes, if there wasn’t something important here.

With that in her mind, Wanda summoned her magic, using it to propel herself in the air. From above, Wanda could see that there was nothing special in this room and she moved quietly into the next, passing through a small hallway, only to find a man hunched over a pot, stirring the content inside. He had his back to her and for some reason she felt the need to sneak closer, even though it was impossible for him not to know she was here, considering all the noise she made. “Welcome, Miss Maximoff.” He said, without turning, “I’ve been expecting you.” The greeting startled Wanda for a moment, making her stop mid-flight, before she moved forward, flying over him and the strange liquid he stirred, murky and filled with bits and pieces of something she couldn’t see clearly enough to name. What she could recognize however was that distinct smell that she felt ever since she left his apartment. That repulsive, yet attractive smell that urged her to breathe it in deeply. That is, until she came closer and Wanda realized that the small objects Wanda was observing, were actually eyes.

“Isn’t it poetic? Stolen eyes, to grant you stolen sight!” He said with a small giggle. “That’s what you used that poor man’s eyes for?” Wanda asked, her voice shaking. She tried not to look at the ugly pot, filled with the murky liquid or to picture the man on the wall, with his empty sockets and a gaping hole in his chest. “Poor man?” The Sorcerer laughed. “He was hardly an innocent.” He hinted. “He liked to watch. In fact it’s all he wanted.” The man continued, words slow, as if explaining to a child. “Do you know how many women they forced, just so he could watch?” The Sorcerer asked, raising his hand, so he could make an obscene gesture, that imitated self-pleasure. It made Wanda sick to her stomach. “So you killed him?” She asked. “How noble.” Her voice was mocking and full of disgust. “I thought it was rather poetic in a way. He liked to watch. And thanks to him, I now see everything.” He said in a smooth voice. “Everything?” Wanda scoffed. “Aren’t you a bit full of yourself?” “I saw you coming.” He retorted in that same calm demeanour. “The all-powerful Scarlet Witch.” He said with a purr. “If you wanted to see me, there are far easier ways.” Wanda replied. She wanted to bait him, wanted to know his plans, while she still had him here. She knew that if it came to a battle, he may not survive. Once she unleashed her powers there was no telling what will happen and she needed to know why he did what he did. Needed to know if there was a greater power behind him. Truly, she needed to know why he did all these terrible acts. Needed to know if he was the monster that he was presenting himself to be. “But this one is rather effective.” He smiled at her. “I saw you look into my apartment. Saw you take things that don’t belong to you.” He accused. “How did you see me there? I was alone.” Wanda narrowed her eyes. “All living things need to eat and drink, Miss Maximoff.” The man explained. “And once they do, they’re mine to use.” “That’s disgusting.” She spat, her hands balling into fists. “Oh, don’t play innocent now. You’ve studied magic. I believe one Agatha Harkness had a very impressive collection on the subject. You’ve read her books. You know there is always a price to be paid.” He spoke patiently, as if he could somehow convince her that he was right. “Well, perhaps not for you…” He trailed off. “With control over pure chaos, you don’t need to pay that price, do you? But the rest of us… We still have to follow the rules.” “Trust me, I’ve paid…” Wanda growled, the control over her emotions fraying. “I’ve lost more than you can imagine.” “Ah, yes, of course.” He nodded slowly. “You and I are kindred spirits in that regard.” “Never compare yourself to me.” Wanda spoke through gritted teeth, the urge to hurt him growing stronger. She could hardly hold herself back, desperate to end all this. She felt so tired.

“But it’s true.” He argued, raising his finger in the air, signalling for her to be patient. “I too lost my parents very young.” He began, taking a step closer to her. “And the world is rarely kind to orphans, Miss Maximoff. Had to go hungry, dressed in the rags others gave away to the orphanage. Had to go to school in them too. Other children are hardly kind to their peers.” He lowered his head for a moment, countless cruelties passing through his memory and flooding Wanda’s thoughts. “But I found an escape.” He continued. “I found that knowledge truly does give you power. I found my first real spell when I was 16. It was just a stupid trick. Turning sugar into salt.” He laughed humourlessly. “It was useless for more than a prank, but it opened my eyes. There was real magic in this world. I knew it now. I had the proof for it. My history teacher was stirring it right into her coffee! So I looked. Researched spells and grimoires, travelled on foot, or hitchhiked to chase down any lead for real magic wielders, looked for amulets and enchanted objects. I built my collection, knowing that one day, I’ll use it to make the world better!” He exclaimed, coming to the culmination of his little speech. “But then I found something better. I found the cult of Salvain. I thought it was nothing more than a cult to a non-existing God, but I went to the forest of perpetual silence, where his followers live. It wasn’t easy, trust me, but I made it there. Have you ever experienced mind-numbing nothingness, Miss Maximoff? Have you ever been in a place so quiet, that every sound is swallowed, to a point you can’t even scream, because nothing actually reaches your ears? It was horrible. I was lost in there for days, walking aimlessly and praying for death to mercifully take me. I was dehydrated, hungry, never met another soul… And just when I thought I would die, I heard him. I heard his voice.” He said with fire in his eyes, his face betraying real emotion for the first time. “He’s been speaking to me ever since. Helping me. Guiding me. I let him inside me and he saved me. He showed me the way to salvation and he’s going to save everyone.” He explained with what appeared to be genuine excitement and appreciation, his words hanging in the air for a long moment. “You’re actually insane…” Wanda finally spoke, her head tilting to the side. “Oh, but I’m not.” The sorcerer said with a grin. “He’s here.” He said, closing his eyes in bliss. “He knows you.” He whispered teasingly, stepping closer still. He was just a few feet away now, giving Wanda a chance to take a closer look.

Underneath the grey skin and sunken eyes, underneath the painfully thin, bony face, he was actually a young man. So young. More a boy, than a sorcerer and a monster. But there was very little of him left. She could see the corruption of dark magic spreading over him like a disease. It was probably what ate away at his mind. “Don’t you want to speak to him, Miss Maximoff?” He asked, his big eyes fixing her in a predatory way. “He’s been waiting to speak to you, you know.” “How about this…” Wanda started. “You surrender yourself quietly, and I’ll talk to him.” She suggested, hoping to be able to contain him without having to hurt him. Despite his seemingly docile appearance, he had managed to kill several people already. She couldn’t be sure what he was actually capable of. “I won’t resist.” He told her gently, hands raising in the air in a gesture of surrender. “You shouldn’t resist either. Can’t you feel him calling you? He’s been talking to you for a while now.” Wanda thought of saying something sassy in return, but the words died down in her throat, before she could utter them. The sorcerer leaped forward, grasping her head on either side, his long, bony fingers digging into her skin. “Just listen!” He hissed, before a blast of red magic pushed him away from her and he fell to the ground. She heard him gasp from the impact, his right hand clutching his side painfully, but when she looked at his face, he looked amused. “He told me you wouldn’t just hear us out.” The sorcerer said bitterly. “But thankfully, Salvain has a solution for everything.” He giggled “What did you do?” Wanda growled, her teeth bared. This was the confession she was waiting for. His next sacrifice, his next victim, his plans. Once he gave those away, she could be done with all this. “You don’t feel it yet?” He asked with a raised brow. “You have a strong mind. Pushing him away all this time. But even you can’t resist him forever.” “What are you talking about?” She asked, feeling a bit dizzy as a wave of that horrible smell hit her nostrils again and she had to put her hand to her mouth and nose just so she wouldn’t gag. Instead of a response, he waited, circling her now, though he kept a safe distance. His watchful eyes seemed to never leave her and she was once again feeling dizzy from the way he circled her. It was almost like vertigo, but it came with the unpleasant return of that nagging voice in her head, that wanted to seduce her. She could stop all this right now. She could just blast him with her magic. He had attacked her once, had he not? She could claim his death on self-defence and leave all of this behind. No one had to know what happened. There were no witnesses, no cameras…

No! She had to shake the thought away. This wasn’t her way. She could easily immobilize him and let S.H.I.E.L.D deal with him. She didn’t need to hurt him. She was not going to become a killer. But the Scarlet Witch is a killer, a thought flashed through Wanda’s mind. And even though it seemed like it came from within, even though it had her voice, she finally realized that it wasn’t. There was a presence in the back of her mind, a voice that whispered in her ear, disrupting her thoughts. “Now you get it.” The sorcerer smiled, smug and self-satisfied. “How are you doing that?” Wanda hissed at him, fighting the urge to slap his smile away. She could easily knock him down. He seemed so weak, so fragile… It would be so easy to just… Wanda shook the thoughts away again, starting to get angry at this stupid game they were playing. “I’m not doing anything.” The man in front of her responded. “I have no power to influence you.” He told her softly. “Ordinary humans are easy, but you…” He shook his head. “You’re strong. I had to find a way to help you hear Him. ” “What did you do?” Wanda asked again, her voice shaking so much it sounded like a growl. She was losing her patience. Each second that passed between them felt like an eternity, fraying her nerves. Why not just be done with him? Whatever he planned would simply be left unfinished if he were to die… No, he could have accomplices, acolytes… She couldn’t afford to leave this unfinished. Not when so much was at stake. “I only helped you open your mind to him. That’s all.” He said with a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m only helping you see. That’s what he wants as well. For you to see the good he can do in this world.” He said with a look of longing in his eyes. “He can do anything. Give you anything. You just have to let him come through…”

As the sorcerer spoke, Wanda’s vision slowly started to blur. The dizzy feeling she’d been fighting, suddenly overtook her and she felt like she was fainting. Except that wasn’t quite it either. It was more like she was being pulled underwater, supressed so deep within herself that she no longer felt one with her body. She was floating within her subconsciousness, a passenger in her own body. Her clothes were slowly changing, her comfortable pants and soft sweater that she wore suddenly fading and being replaced by her old suit. The boots and tights came first, her magic working its way up, red swirling around her and weaving the tight corset into place, her old cape flowing down her shoulders… Magic weaved itself in the places where the suit had torn, glowing… Then came her crown. It glowed in the same scarlet as her magic, surrounding her in unnatural light that looked both terrifying and regal. She’d never seen herself like that. She always felt like Wanda. But this was the Scarlet Witch. This is the destiny she kept rejecting.

“Why fight it, Wanda? This is who you were meant to be.” A voice creeped up on her, ringing all around her. She turned frantically to look for the source, but there was no one. The sorcerer was still in his spot, staring in awe of her, a deeply unsettling smile on his face. “Show yourself.” She challenged, sounding more scared than she liked, hoping to draw out the voice. “If you want to see me, you’ll have to invite me into your world.” Salvain said in a low voice. “Invite you, huh? So you need someone to let you through.” Wanda retorted, feeling some of her confidence return. Whatever entity this was, he couldn’t move into the world on his own. “Not just anyone, Wanda. I need you. Gorden over there was a good servant. He did as he was told, performed the rituals and cast the spells, but he’s not strong enough. His body is failing. He can’t pierce the veil and let me in.” The voice explained in a monotonous tone, as if talking about the weather and not a life. “But you can.” He said, a trace of a smile in his tone. A trace of urgency. “And what makes you think I will?” Wanda lifted her chin defiantly, her lips trembling in barely-contained anger. “Because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, Wanda. I can bring back all your friends. I can bring back Vision… You can have your brother back! Your parents too. Your boys! I can make it so they never, ever died. I can make sure they never do again.” He said seductively, his voice bouncing around her skull with all the weight of his promises.

“I tried that!” Wanda hissed, her fists balling at the memory of Westview. “It doesn’t work. It’s not real.” She shook her head. “As powerful as you are, Scarlet Witch, you’ll always need your magic to sustain them. But I… Once I’m in this world, I can bring them back, make them real… I can make anything you want real… You can have your whole family back. I can give you back Vision. Or Y/N. Or even both?” He chuckled. “Both of them, so willing and loving… You’ll want for nothing, Wanda.” “No!” Wanda growled, but to her surprise, her body moved. Her fingers glowed, whisps of magic swirling around them slowly. “It seems your counterpart disagrees.” Salvain purred. “No! You can’t do that!” Wanda’s eyes widened, filled with panic. “I’m not doing anything.” He chimed in, amused. “You are doing this.” He explained. “It’s ok, Wanda. I understand. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you so utterly exhausted of having to fight for a modicum of peace? For a place in the world? For even a crumb of love… Aren’t you angry? At all the injustice in this world? At the people who turn a blind eye to suffering, to poverty, to strife? You can make it stop! You’ve always had the power to stop it. You can rule this world… But you don’t want that, do you Wanda? I understand… I can help…” “Stop it!” Wanda screamed, her voice bouncing around in her head. She could see more of her magic seeping out of her, now a hurricane of red that swirled around her, building and waiting to be unleashed. The sorcerer, Gorden, was on his knees, awe-stricken at the feet of the Scarlet Witch. His bony face looked even more sickly in the red glow of her power, yet he seemed so at peace. “It’s too late now, Wanda.” Salvain sounded almost smug. “It has already started. Gorden laid the path, now you will open the door and soon… I will walk in the world…” Wanda listened to his words, the terror inside her building at the prospect of what was coming. She had never heard of this entity, had no idea of his powers and if he could truly influence reality the way that he claimed. She hardly knew if that voice in her head was real or if this was all in her head and she was about to unleash her powers upon the world and destroy it. She only knew that she needed to regain her composure and her control over herself if she wanted to stand a chance against him. She focused her thoughts, ignoring his voice and the endless tirade that served no other purpose than to hurt her further and she tried to gain back some of her control, but every time she did, she felt herself being pushed away, her path blocked by an invisible force.

“It’s useless Wanda. There’s nowhere to go…” He chimed in, making her eyes snap open in annoyance. Her power was building, crackling in the air around her like a storm, the pressure in the room growing. If she unleashed that, she would rupture the veil between worlds, creating a passage for him and God only knows what else and she wouldn’t be able to stop any of it. “You’re not in control anymore.” He reminded gleefully. The words bounced around Wanda’s head, heavy and mocking in their finality. The magic that swirled around her now rose to filling the whole warehouse, thundering and waiting to be unleashed. It was almost time and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. She would once again fail. She would fail to protect you, to protect all the innocent people of this world, she would fail herself and her legacy… She would once again be a monster. With that realization Wanda broke down, falling to her knees and letting the tears that she’d been holding back for days finally fall freely. “I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her head bowing down in defeat. “Don’t be sorry, Wanda. You’re doing exactly what you were meant to.” Salvain said with a surprisingly gentle voice, as if talking to a child. “I wasn’t talking to you!” Wanda shouted suddenly, looking up. The Scarlet Witch was now floating, the magic and particles of dust swirling around her. She was getting ready to unleash it all. “I’m sorry I rejected you. I’m sorry I pushed you down and treated you like a disease to be cured. I’m sorry, that I pretended like you weren’t here all this time…” Her words died down into sobs, as she looked through her own eyes, a prisoner of her body now taken over by another. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this all this time.” She whispered. Wanda shook with sobs, her heart beating wildly in her chest, her thoughts a frantic mess that she could hardly distinguish anymore. She thought this would be the end. And selfishly, she regretted that she’ll spend it away from you, when suddenly a red glow illuminated her face and a gentle hand rested under her chin, urging her to look up.

There she was. The Scarlet Witch, in all her glory, was standing above her, her features unreadable. Salvain’s voice had quieted down, pushed aside by the presence of the witch. “I’m so sorry.” Wanda whispered again, her face wet with tears. She wasn’t sure how this moment was possible, both of them face to face, as her body continued to float into the air, magic crackling and threatening to be unleashed at any second, but as she looked at the face of the Scarlet Witch, she didn’t care. “I should have never neglected you.” She whispered at the witch, her green eyes full of regret. “It’s not just me you were hurting.” The witch said gently, her tone a stark contrast to her stronger, more defined features. “This rift between us, hurts us both. We were never meant to be separate. You and I are one, Wanda. The divide leaves vulnerable.” She explained, her strong hands helping Wanda to her feet. “We can only do this together.” “But…” Wanda looked confused. She was still in the air, or her body was, summoning more magic, the walls of the warehouse groining with the force of it. “We are meant to rule the world, Wanda. It is our destiny.” The witch reminded seriously. “Do you really think I’ll give away our throne?” She tilted her head, a sly smile starting to play on her lips. “So you have a plan.” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow rising. “No… We have a plan.” The witch corrected, her smile growing. She offered Wanda one of her hands, their palms touching. The feeling was electrifying. Wanda felt a surge of power pass through her, making her gasp. Than the Scarlet witch moved closer, their faces so close together, their noses almost touching and a warmth spread over her, a kind of relief that made her muscles relax. She allowed the witch even closer, her counterparts free hand wrapping around her waist in a gentle, confident motion. The softness in the other woman startled Wanda. She always saw the witch as ruthless and merciless… Thought of her rough and unforgiving. She always resented her for it as well. “Those were the traits you needed.” The witch suddenly said, a knowing look in her eyes, when she saw Wanda’s confused expression. “That’s not all that I am.” She said, her eyes softening once more.

She guided Wanda even closer, their bodies making contact and making Wanda shiver. The witch’s presence gave her this inexplicable sense of surety. Then calmness. And with it, a deep sense of belonging. And then a longing for more. Her hands wrapped around the witch’s shoulders, as if they were partners in a dance, strangely close and intimate in the bubble of privacy the Scarlet Witch had made within their mind. Their breathing synched together, their eyes locked and for a moment Wanda had the strangest urge to kiss the other woman, to run her hands through her hair and down her back and she felt that desire reflected in the features so identical to hers. On instinct she closed her eyes, lips parting slowly as she leaned in, their foreheads touching for a brief moment, before she tried leaning in even further, only to find the space empty. Wanda opened her eyes to find herself alone and she blinked a few times, questioning if this wasn’t just a figment of her imagination, before she felt that same sense of surety wash over her, her mind opening up and expanding to accept the witch within herself and allow her to merge, just as they were always meant to. Her mind’s eye suddenly opened to the universe as the knowledge and power of the Scarlet Witch bled into her, connecting them, until they were whole. As they merged, Wanda felt more powerful, more alive, more confident than she ever had been in her life. She could finally sense the real, raw strength of chaos magic and she opened her eyes to find herself back into her body, the center of a hurricane of magic that swirled around her and threatened to tear down the whole building.

Without wasting too much time, she focussed her strength, guiding that magic into a single point in the floor, feeling the vail between our world and the next start to bend under her strength. The ground shook and groaned, but gave way to her will, a portal starting to open, rimmed in scarlet. Beneath her Gorden had recovered from his stupor, stopped staring at her in awe and moved closer to the portal that formed, arms open in welcome to the God he had been serving all this time. Wanda sensed the approach of something powerful, something monstrous, as it neared the portal she was holding open and she braced herself for the moment he would pass. He paused some distance from the portal, the world on the other end black and filled with nothingness, before he surged through it. He passed smoothly, landing on the dirty floor of the warehouse, the portal closing shut behind him. Dazed by the strength the journey had taken, he didn’t seem to notice the trap of the Scarlet Witch and started to stand, feeling carried by weak, almost trembling legs. He looked around, winded, breathless, his eyes landing on Wanda, who used her powers to land on the floor softly, her red eyes staring at him. “You made the right choice, Wanda.” He started to say, his voice coming out rough and distorted. It sounded nothing like him, he realized and with a distrustful gaze, started to look down at himself.

That’s when he saw it. The skinny legs, frail frame, bony fingers connected to dry, vainy hands… And a whisper… Except this time it wasn’t the distant voice of a far-away acolyte, but a voice inside his own head. The voice of Gorden Shaw… Salvain felt himself smothered in Gordon’s body, so weak, so frail… A mortal shell too fragile to contain his strength. He had but a fraction of his abilities here and he wanted to free himself from the uncomfortable confines this body provided, but he seemed unable to leave, rattling inside his cage like a wild animal, before his eyes landed once again on Wanda. “How dare you!?” Salvain roared, realization painting Gorden’s bony face. “Release me, at once!” He demanded, his voice a growl. “I’m not holding you.” Wanda smirked. “You cannot exist in this realm without a body and yours didn’t make the trip… I’m afraid you and Gordon will have to share.” “You tricked me!” He exclaimed, enraged. “I did nothing of the sort.” Wanda retorted calmly. “Creating a passage isn’t easy and the veil has many layers. I lifted enough for your consciousness to pass through, but your body… Alas, that was left behind.” Wanda explained, summoning her magic, so she could show Salvain the image of his abandoned body, a mindless heap on the ground where he had passed through the portal. “If you don’t return back to it soon, I’m afraid it would die…” Wanda said with a mocking pout on her lips, the whisps of her magic fading. “You foolish girl!” Salvain growled, low and dangerous, his hands balling into fists. “You should have done this the easy way.” He snarled at her. Before Wanda could realize what he meant, a ball of energy formed into Gorden’s hand, now Salvain’s, and it shot toward her, barely giving her time to block, before it hit her straight in the chest. Another followed, than another, magic raining down on her as he gave her no time to do much more than protect herself from his attack. He groaned and grunted with the effort of it, breathing shallow. “If you would not welcome me, Scarlet Witch, you will fear me!” He exclaimed, sending more balls of energy her way, before he used his abilities to lift her off her feet and fling her across the room. Wanda tried to cushion her landing against a wall, but still groaned when she fell on the floor, feeling several bruises form on her knees, but she pushed herself to stand upright, summoning her own powers and throwing a few energy blasts his way. He blocked them, teeth bared, grunting from the unfamiliar feeling of being inside another’s body. In retaliation he looked around, lifting pieces of metal, wood and brick into the air and sending them flying toward Wanda, who tried to dodge them, but hissed when a sharp nail flew passed her, tearing the flesh in her forearm.

“Aren’t you tired of this charade, Wanda?” He asked with a note of challenge. “Pretending to care about all those ridiculous mortals out there? Pretending to be moral, when I know what’s inside you. You wanted to kill Gorden. You want to kill him still. Be done with all this, so you can walk away and find your little girlfriend. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Why not just go do that? Or maybe I’ll go find her, once I’m done with you. Show her some real horrors.” He smiled, crooked and ugly. The mention of you and the clear threat he made had Wanda’s blood boiling. Gordon’s features, if sickly before, had now turned wild and monstrous, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth wet, like a rabid animal, cheeks even more hollow now. Salvain’s presence and the energy it took to sustain him, as well as the magic he used to fight Wanda clearly took their toll and the thought of this thing making its way to you made her sick to her stomach. “I would never let that happen!” She spat, gathering her strength and summoning her magic. She levitated in the air, the scarlet whisps of her magic surrounding her once more as she rose higher and higher, her form almost reaching the ceiling, the ground once again trembling, as she made it all crash down.

She watched the rubble start to fall, the ceiling and walls of the warehouse collapsing, chunks of concrete and metal piling over one another, a cloud of dust and a thundering crash sounding around her as she watched Gorden’s body disappear from view. A part of her regretted the unfortunate end of his life. A part of her recognized his suffering and the inner turmoil he must have felt. Another part of her felt glad. Felt relieved he was gone… Or at least she thought he was. Very few could survive the collapse of a building. But S.H.I.E.L.D would have to confirm that. She saw their black cars from the air even now, saw a few helicopters heading in her direction as well, some government, but some of it was the press. Of course, reporters would want to capture this, even if they weren’t sure what they were filming. It would be golden none the less. Even she knew that. After all, the Scarlet Witch was hovering in the air, a collapsed building on the ground… She’d be on the news and the first page of every newspaper and magazine for weeks! Wanda was about to float down, try to give them less of a show, when a sudden rumble sounded from the rubble and a deep feeling of dread settled over her. An unnerving thought crept its way to her, causing a shiver to pass through her body. The confirmation of her fear came in the form of a chunk of concreate that flew towards her head and narrowly missed her. But it wasn’t what scared her most. What she feared came after. In the center of the ruined warehouse stood Salvain, his arms outstretched as more rubble started to float in the air. He seemed to be taking the whole building, forming a hurricane of dust, bricks, metal and wood, as well as anything left inside. And when that was all gone, he started to tear pieces of earth and rock too. “You should have walked away, little witch.” He shouted over the sound of wind, releasing his hold on the flying objects and hurling them in the air. Some were aimed at Wanda, but some flew astray, passing close to the helicopters that now hovered over the scene as well and it took everything in her to try and stop them all, a magical barrier forming in front of her and the nearby helicopters, but she still saw pieces of rubble falling to the ground, scaring curious onlookers, who had gathered to watch the fight, despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s efforts to keep people away.

In the chaos of it, she felt torn. There were so many innocents around. So many people who would get hurt, should she allow him to get the upper hand. The carnage seemed to amuse him, his lips outstretched into a sickly grin. She couldn’t protect everyone. Not like this. She could hear shouting, the cries of women and children as they ran from the falling debris, helicopters whirring around her… It was all too much. * * * With a flick of Wanda’s wrist, a wave of magic surged through the air and although your TV could hardly do it any justice, you could see that it was a powerful blast. A deafening silence came first, the panicked sounds of people fading into utter stillness. Then came a red glow, seemingly bursting from Wanda’s chest and expanding, dipping the whole world into a scarlet hew. You watched with bated breath, your eyes glued to the screen of your TV, your heart hammering in your chest. This was the first time you’d seen Wanda since she left, and the apparent danger she was in did very little to help your anxiety. You could recognize the old warehouse, not too far from where you lived and the thought that she was so close, yet so far, made it feel hard to breathe. Then came a third wave of magic. This one however was a dull grey. It shot through the air in a cluster, like the pellets of a shotgun and everything you saw, was the way they found their target, right in Wanda’s chest, before everything went dark.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch #sacrifices #magic

124 notes · View notes

ikebo-simp · 1 year ago

Note

Funniest SAGAU reverse isekai settings for them to pop into existence in:

1. Renaissance fair

2. Norway (Khaenri’ah is based off Norway so I think everyone would freak out)

3. Anime/Video game convention

4. New York City babey (or any major city) (like Enchanted but worse)

6. Haunted house

Nobody is having a good time, but it would be so funny.

I am so very sorry that it took me this long to write this, life kept throwing things at me and so I died before writing this

I haven't been to most of these places, but you are so correct, I'm mostly having them react to the places, and it's not necessarily focused on them searching for you

If it wasn't quite how you wanted, please ask again? I'll try my best

Renfaire:

Fischl, would fit perfectly in a Renfaire, overwelmed at first but slow grows to like more and more, before proudly proclaiming "I am the Prinzessin der Verurteilung" and all the people clap and bow down and respect her like a princess

What about Ayaka, joining in, changing into some of the clothes available and joining into the festivities, someplace where her responsibility don't weigh on her, somewhere the honor of her family doesn't follow her like a shadow

Both girls probably would this a blessing from 'Your Grace' a chance to relax and unwind in a place that welcomes them so warmly

Norway:

Dainsleif holds a bated breath as he looks around the place, familiar yet, unfamiliar. He torn on whether this is a gift from you or a curse, just what has he done to deserve this?

Zhongli feels his memories of the war coming back to him, flooding his thoughts, so many people... dead, why did you show him this place? Did you want to him something? Are you displeased with him?

Norway fills those who know about Khaenri'ah with a hidden dread, they misunderstand and think somethings changing, the world's getting overturned

Anime/Video Game Con

Nahida walks around the con glancing around, she understands that she's in a different world almost instantly, she's curious about the customs and world she just appeared in, does everyone try and imitate others? She does rather feel unnerved around the Dottore cosplayers

Collei immediately gets intimidated by all the loud sounds and the bumping bodies, although luckily several kind cosplayers took care of her and gently lead her away from the crowd, she honestly just very confusing and overstimulated

The con is a curious place for those who visit it and almost everyone who has trauma from Dottore wonder why there's so many Dottore clones all in one place

New York City:

Venti feels stifled, the air didn't have the same clean crispness of Teyvat, and although the sights are sounds of city are music to his ears, the air pushes on his chest like a heavy weight, making it hard for him to full enjoy his trip into the real world

Xinyan absolutely loves the city, the aesthetic, the feeling of expression, all kinds of music and styles, she wasn't getting weird stares or her style choice, she love her time in the city, her only problem? The how dirty the streets were

In New York City, it goes about as well as you'd expect, it's exciting to all the new sights, however... if it's extremely easy for one to get overstimulated

Haunted House:

Chongyun probably knocked out the first person that tried to scare him before realizing that it was just a normal person and not a evil spirit, he still gets his hopes up that he'll encounter a true ghost through

Hu Tao absolutely loves scaring the cast and guests, she'll find all the hiding spots and lay in wait for her next victim, honestly has a huge blast even though she's been transported into a different world

A/N Ahhhhh I posted it too early!!!!!!

Thanks for Reading

261 notes · View notes

dr5amatic · 10 days ago

Text

ONE OUT OF MANY ,

a sentence starter prompts list comprised of quotes from the novel the will of the many by james islington. please be advised that this list may involve topics including, but not limited to death, violence, and religion. change verbiage as needed.

watch your step. it gets slippery down here.

so what is it all for? debts? a woman? some vice that you cannot bring yourself to give up?

i know it’s not in your nature, but if you’re ever going to swallow your pride, tonight’s the night.

i’d have thought twice about coming out here if i’d realized my opponent was such a coward!

chain your anger in the dark and it will only thrive.

i wasn’t trying to kill him.

i think you’re so used to resisting, you don’t know how not to.

sometimes bullies are better off with the truth, no matter how unpleasant.

a ladder should not be climbed from the shoulders of others.

you’re placing a lot of faith in the abilities of someone you’ve just met.

conviction is admirable, but it can only take a man so far.

what i want to know is what are you punishing yourself for?

they killed your family. stole your home. don’t you want to do something about it?

this is my best chance at finding something approaching a normal life.

you only have this chance because of me, and you seem to be under the mistaken impression that this is some kind of offer.

you can still back out, but this is your last chance to do it. is this opportunity worth it? is it worth your life?

it’s hard when the lies that let you sleep are so cruelly laid bare.

you’re welcome to rest and eat before you go.

if i believed in the gods, i would say they led me to you.

there is always something more to lose.

i can hate without it coming to violence.

hate is its own violence. your choice is whether to let it hurt them, or you.

i have come to bring a reckoning for your decisions. your weakness. your blindness and cowardice and complicity.

silence is a statement. inaction picks a side. and when those lead to personal benefit, they are complicity.

you should have told me all of this from the beginning

if there is something you should be telling me, i assume you will.

you’re brighter than most—but bright doesn’t mean brave, or caring, or heroic. more often, it means the opposite.

a man will always wonder what might have been, but a wise one recognizes fortune when it comes.

how could you not resent them for what they took from you?

there comes a point in every man’s life where he can rail against the unfairness of the world until he loses, or he can do his best in it. remain a victim, or become a survivor.

there can be no love without honesty.

there are more measured approaches to justice than punching.

just because you are good at something does not make others bad at it.

whether the obstacles to our advancement arise from our ties or our actions, we need to learn to overcome ourselves. it’s not fair, but nor is the world.

a fair system only works if there’s an unbiased means of assessing merit, which means that fair systems cannot exist where people are involved.

sometimes, i’m not sure there’s anything of the real me left anymore.

there are those who see what should be, and complain that they do not get their due. and then there are those who see what is, and figure out how to use it to their advantage.

you’re not planning to kill me, then.

a cut’s only worth it if there’s poison on the blade.

we do not have to be enemies.

if all you’re trying to do is change who’s in control, then you don’t really want to change anything.

you cannot be free if you are afraid to die.

be safe, and for the love of all the gods, don’t get caught.

i am just trying to remember the last time i so vastly overestimated someone’s intelligence.

you have a reputation as a killer.

in this place… each man has to find his line. has to find it ahead of time, and be resolved never to cross it.

don’t mistake inaction for neutrality.

violence is no answer to grief.

there’s being brave, and then there’s throwing your life away.

what do you believe makes a good ruler?

don’t equate having less heart with more intelligence.

not pleasant, seeing your trust betrayed, is it?

remind me to never get on your bad side. i have no idea how i’m going to repay this.

you’re so mysterious and unpredictable.

i want you to know that you are my friend. that you have my full trust.

i envy you, you know. your capacity to do that. to trust like that.

you rotting, fetid coward.

i’m going to make sure you burn for this.

death is only meaningless if it does not change us.

#inbox memes #inbox prompt #roleplay memes #roleplay prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #rp sentence starters #sentence starters

20 notes · View notes

nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 months ago

Note

Hello))) this is partially inspired by the anon’s request, who was watching soap operas with her grandma - I’m the same 😂

So maybe reader comes from family with money, not like millionaires, but her dad is one of Californias top divorce lawyers so he definitely makes good cash. Of course her parents are not fans of James, up to the point where they cut her off because she refused to break up with him. But she takes it well, works as waitress at diner as she’s happy being with James. However, after Metallica’s first tour in 83, he confessed that he cheated with girls on the road - exactly what her father warned her about. So she kinda doesn’t have any option but to go back to her family. However, her father does forgive her and takes her back.

A few years later in 90s, when Lars is divorcing Debbie (his first wife), guess who’s Debbie’s attorney? She wins the case so at some point she comes to the studio so Lars can sign the papers for Debbie to get her part of money; and James is pissed and calls her cynical and cold hearted but she tells him it’s his fault and how she gave everything away to be with him and he went out to sleep with groupies? He feels guilty cause she’s right - he couldn’t keep it in his pants and a few days later calls the law firm she’s working at as he wants to reconcile and cheating was the worst thing he had done???

I thought I’d be brief but ended up with too much details I’m sorry if it’s weird 🥹🥹🥹

I don't know if it's what you were looking for, but I hope you like it 💕

Rewrite the past

I never thought I’d find myself back here, in my father’s office, staring at the walls lined with framed degrees, each one a testament to his relentless ambition. From the outside, my family looked perfect—money, influence, respect. My father was one of California’s top divorce lawyers, the kind of man who made sure everyone knew how hard he’d worked to give us the life we had. I never wanted for anything, but the privilege came at a cost.

When I met James, he was the one thing in my life that felt real, unpolished. He was wild, raw, unapologetically himself, and in a world of well-manicured facades, he was a breath of fresh air. I knew my parents wouldn’t understand, but I didn’t care. They wanted me with someone safe, someone respectable. But I wanted him.

It wasn’t long before the clashes started. My parents despised him—the loud music, the chaos, the risk. They tried everything to pull me away, and when I refused, when I told them that James was who I wanted, they finally drew a hard line.

“If you stay with him, you’re on your own,” my father had said, his tone cold, final. “You’re turning your back on everything we’ve given you.”

The words stung, but I chose James anyway. I took a job at a diner, working double shifts to pay rent on a cramped apartment, doing whatever it took to make things work. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was happy—at least, I thought I was.

Then Metallica went on their first tour. I didn’t hear much from James while he was on the road, and I tried to brush off the nagging worries in my mind. But when he finally came back, he looked different. There was a distance between us, something broken in his gaze. I’d barely gotten a chance to hold him before he pulled away and admitted the truth.

“I cheated,” he said, the words falling out like stones. “There were… girls on the road. I don’t even remember half of them.”

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. All the warnings my father had given me, every condescending “I told you so” I’d ignored—it was all crashing down around me. I’d fought so hard to keep this, to prove to myself, to everyone, that we were real, that we could make it work.

And yet, here he was, proving all of them right.

I didn’t have anything left to hold on to, no safety net. The betrayal was too much, and, broken-hearted, I had no choice but to turn back to the only people who’d ever protected me. My father welcomed me back without hesitation, perhaps knowing he’d won in the end. But even as they opened their doors to me, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like defeat.

---

The relief I expected didn’t come when I returned to my family. There was only a dull ache, the feeling of failure simmering beneath the surface. The world I’d tried so hard to escape had pulled me back in, and all the independence I’d fought for felt like it had slipped through my fingers.

My father didn’t say “I told you so”—at least not outright. But there was that look in his eyes every time he glanced my way, like he was almost smug about me finally realizing he’d been right all along. My mother, too, seemed relieved, constantly reminding me that I was better off without “someone like him.” They were careful not to bring it up too much, as if to spare me, but every comment felt like a small needle, poking at my decision to love James.

In their eyes, I’d come to my senses. In mine, I’d lost something I couldn’t get back.

As the years passed, I moved forward. I’d put everything into my career in law, following my father’s footsteps, using my pain as fuel to rise through the ranks of his firm. It was hard, grueling, but the satisfaction I got from the victories, the courtroom battles, made it worth it. Winning cases felt like a balm to all the broken pieces I couldn’t quite stitch together. And every time I signed a high-stakes case or handled a tricky negotiation, I could feel my father’s pride. It was almost enough.

But there was still a part of me that wondered what might have been—if he’d been someone who could keep his promises. If we’d managed to build the life I’d imagined with him. Every now and then, I’d hear Metallica on the radio or see an old photo of us tucked away in the back of a drawer, and I’d feel the sting of what we’d lost.

Then came the day when the past decided to walk right back into my life.

It was late, the office winding down for the evening, when my assistant walked in with a stack of documents and a carefully neutral expression.

“Debbie Lars Ulrich's case,” she said, placing the papers on my desk. “The divorce settlement. Lars needs to sign his part.”

I froze for a moment, processing what this meant. Debbie was one of my clients, yes, but the reality of who her soon-to-be ex-husband was—and what that meant—washed over me slowly, sinking in. If Lars was here to sign, James would be nearby. Of course, he would. They were practically family.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and agreed to bring the papers to the studio the following day.

---

When I arrived at the studio, I knew I had to keep myself together. This wasn’t about me; this was business. I walked in, the familiar smell of stale beer and smoke hanging heavy in the air. The studio felt like a time capsule, reminding me of those early days, back when I’d believed in forever.

And then I saw him.

James stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze cutting through me the moment I entered. The years had changed him—sharpened the lines on his face, deepened the shadows under his eyes. But there was a hardness in his expression, a guardedness I hadn’t seen before.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “So, you’re the one representing Debbie now?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady, professional. “I’m here because Lars needs to sign these.”

He scoffed, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all this is, huh? Just a job to you?”

I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Yes, James. This is my job. I’m here for Debbie. What did you expect?”

He shook his head, his gaze narrowing. “I expected you to have some heart left. But I guess you’ve gotten really good at this—cold, calculating.”

My fingers tightened around the documents in my hand, the years of hurt and resentment rushing back. He didn’t get to act like this, not after everything.

“Cold?” I repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich coming from you. I gave up everything for you, James—my family, my life. I was willing to fight for us. And what did you do? You threw it away for a few cheap thrills on the road.”

His face paled, and I could see the flicker of guilt, raw and undeniable, as he struggled to hold my gaze.

“I was young,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I was stupid. I didn’t know what I was risking until it was too late.”

I shook my head, the familiar ache resurfacing as I stared at him. “Do you even realize what you cost me? I had to rebuild my entire life from scratch, and I did it without you. I’m not here to rehash the past or play whatever game you think this is. I’m here because this is what I do. This is who I am now.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. His shoulders slumped, the bravado fading as he looked down at the floor, defeated. “I didn’t deserve you. I don’t think I ever did.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” I replied, softer now, feeling the weight of every hurt, every broken promise. “But I loved you, James. And I would’ve done anything to make it work. You’re the one who threw it away.”

He nodded, looking at me with that same, aching regret, and for a moment, the years seemed to fall away. We were just two people, tangled up in the remains of a love we couldn’t save.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely a whisper. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but… I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath, willing myself to let go of the last fragments of pain, to move on from what we’d lost.

“Goodbye, James,” I said, my voice steady, final.

There are things in life you can’t take back, no matter how desperately you wish you could. Years had passed since we met, but yesterday as I met him again and today I heard his voice cracking over the phone as he spoke the words he’d likely rehearsed a hundred times.

I had been wrapping up the final details on a case, buried in papers and the quiet hum of my small studio in downtown LA. It was my sanctuary—a space I’d built for myself in the years since our breakup. The walls were lined with case files, books, and certificates that whispered of the life I’d carved out alone. The last person I expected to invade this space was James Hetfield.

The phone rang, its sudden chime breaking through the silence. I glanced down, and I answered.

“Hello?” I said, my voice uncertain, testing the waters. I could feel the flutter of my heart in my chest, a mix of excitement and dread.

“Y/N,” he breathed, and the sound of my name on his lips was both familiar and foreign. It sent a rush of emotions through me—nostalgia for the love we once shared, mixed with the sharp pain of betrayal. Memories of our time together flooded my mind, each one a reminder of the happiness we had, intertwined with the heartbreak of his infidelity. I had spent years trying to forget him, yet here he was, a ghost from my past, stirring feelings I thought I had buried deep.

“What do you want, James?” I kept my tone guarded, bracing for whatever might come next, but inside, I was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, longing, and an unshakeable sadness.

“I know it’s late,” he started, his voice softer than I remembered. “But… Can we talk?”

For a moment, I hesitated. Memories crashed over me like a wave—the days spent dreaming of a future together, the betrayal that shattered it all after his first tour. I’d given up everything for him, only for him to throw it all away.

“What is it you want to talk about?” I asked, my curiosity battling with the pain that lingered. “It’s been years.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, I could hear the weight of regret. “I just… I’m sorry. For everything.”

His words hung in the air, thick with remorse, and old wounds reopened like fresh scars. “James, you did exactly what my father warned me you would. I left my family, gave up everything just to be with you. And you threw it away for girls you don’t even remember.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “It haunts me every day. Cheating was the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t expect you to forgive me… but I needed you to know how sorry I am.”

I ran a hand over the edge of my desk, grounding myself. This was my life now—a life I’d built without him, in this studio that felt as much a part of me as my own skin. I had carved out success and peace, and this chapter of my past had no place in it.

“I’ve moved on, James,” I said finally, my voice low and steady. “This is my life now, and I don’t need the past interrupting it.”

Silence filled the line, but I could almost feel the regret radiating from him, his guilt settling over him like a heavy shadow. He had made his choices, and I had made mine.

But then I thought about the years that had passed, the void where he used to be. I couldn’t deny the flicker of hope igniting inside me. “Maybe... maybe we could talk,” I heard myself say, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Really?” His voice was tentative, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, but only if you’re serious about changing. I won’t go through that again,” I warned, my heart racing with uncertainty.

“I am. I swear,” he replied, urgency creeping into his tone. “I know I messed up. I just want a chance to prove it to you.”

As we spoke, I felt the walls I’d built around my heart begin to crack, revealing the soft, vulnerable parts I had long kept hidden. The thought of giving him a second chance filled me with both excitement and dread. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps we could find our way back to each other, even if it was a long and winding road.

“Okay, let’s see where this goes,” I said, my voice steadying.

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief flooding his words. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Just remember, James,” I warned, feeling the weight of my decision. “You’ll need to earn it.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute. “I won’t let you down this time.”

As I hung up, the silence of the studio wrapped around me, familiar and comforting, but now tinged with a cautious hope. I had found my peace, but maybe—just maybe—I could open the door to something new. The ache in my heart remained, but now it held the promise of healing and the possibility of love rediscovered.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #metallica fluff #metallica angst #angst with a happy ending #james hetfield one shot #james hetfield #james hetfield angst #james hetfield fluff

22 notes · View notes

centrally-unplanned · 1 year ago

Text

I played a few more of Nemlei's (Developer of The Coffin of Andy & Leyley) games to sort of get a feel for their design philosophy a bit (typical Ash behavior, everything's a production history). I played No-Good Noelle & Candy Scabs, and poked around Better Half.

Andy & Leyley is their most ambitious project by a country mile, and a good deal more advanced conceptually. It is also their first RPG Maker game, the rest being pure Ren'py VN projects. This was a very smart choice on their part - they love gore & horror style elements, but in a simple VN those elements are going to be carried, in the main, by dialogue, with the occasional splash art. Its hard for that not to overstay its welcome, or come off as a bit too edgy? You can make it work with real design flexes (Doki Doki Literature Club being a classic example) but that is very high skill (DDLC is famously impressive on the coding side). Meanwhile Andy & Leyley gets miles out of the fact that you-as-player physically do all of the actions, and engage with 'bonus' dialogue from the environment as much as you want. You are extending that welcome via choices you make.

Andy & Leyley also seems like their first project to take place in "our world", even if it's a crapsack alt skin version of it. It is another smart choice, as - typical to the relationship-focused VN genre - Nemlei cares about characters first, and that is where all the time goes in these games. Which means the fantasy settings of say No-Good Noelle are inherently shallow; they don't want to spend time developing it all that much. In A&L all that is presumed *except* the relevant differences, which are way easier to drip-feed. The longer length & RPG elements help with that too ofc. And I think it works a little bit better with the toxic dynamics they are so enamored with; a toxic snow fairy/imp dynamic is like, yeah, they are magic creatures, guess they can do that. Fun, but that isn't going to hit the way a Covid-Quarantine metaphor driving you over the edge is going to.

Of course the art has also evolved and all that too; they started making full games in 2019 it seems, had choppy "generic western cute-horror-anime" aesthetics for a few there, couldn't get "adult" character designs to work for Better Hal & Divelethion, but finally broke the barrier on Andy & Leyley, and committed to a more cohesive style with its own identity to boot.

Btw they have very impressive output for a solo artist who is virtually never charging for these products and doing like no social media promotion. They love the grind for stories, I see who they are in every work and respect them immensely for that.

#the coffin of andy and leyley

134 notes · View notes

cherrygirlystuff · 5 months ago

Text

Welcome to Messy Mornings: A Chronicle of the Chaotic, Carefree Lifestyle of the Indie Sleaze Scene

Hey babe! 🌸 If you’ve ever woken up with yesterday’s eyeliner still smudged under your eyes, your hair in a perfectly imperfect mess, and the vibe of last night’s music still echoing in your head, then you’re in the right place. Welcome to Messy Mornings, where we celebrate the beautifully chaotic and effortlessly cool lifestyle that defined the indie sleaze scene. This isn’t about being polished or perfect – it’s about embracing the wild, carefree energy that made the indie sleaze era so unforgettable. So, grab your coffee (or let’s be real, your morning-after drink of choice), and let’s dive into the messy, magical world of indie mornings! 🎧✨

The Chaotic Charm of Indie Sleaze Mornings 🌟

Let’s be honest – mornings during the indie sleaze era weren’t about green juices and yoga mats. They were more like stumbling out of bed, throwing on whatever clothes were on the floor, and somehow managing to look effortlessly cool despite the chaos. The indie sleaze lifestyle was all about embracing that “I just rolled out of bed” look – because, honestly, you probably did. And guess what? That’s what made it so iconic.

1. The Art of the Perfectly Imperfect Morning 🕶️

Indie sleaze mornings were anything but ordinary. Maybe you were crashing on a friend’s couch after a night out, or maybe you woke up with the sun streaming through your bedroom window, surrounded by vinyl records and band posters. The key to capturing that indie vibe? Don’t overthink it. Messy hair, smudged eyeliner, and yesterday’s outfit are all part of the charm. It’s about capturing the moment – the vibe – rather than worrying about looking picture-perfect.

2. The Morning After: A Photo Series 📸

If you’re looking for some visual inspo, Messy Mornings has got you covered with a curated photo series that captures the essence of those chaotic indie mornings. Think candid shots of tangled bed sheets, half-empty coffee cups, and sun-drenched rooms filled with the remnants of the night before. These images aren’t staged or filtered – they’re raw, real, and totally unfiltered, just like the indie sleaze scene itself. Whether it’s a Polaroid snapped at sunrise or a grainy digital photo that captures the morning light just right, these photos are all about telling the story of the morning after.

Morning Routines: The Indie Sleaze Way 🌅

Forget about strict schedules and to-do lists – the indie sleaze morning routine was all about going with the flow and embracing whatever the day threw your way. Here’s a little glimpse into what a typical indie sleaze morning might have looked like:

1. Wake Up Whenever 🌞

There’s no alarm clock here – you wake up when your body (or the sunlight streaming through the curtains) tells you to. Whether it’s 7 AM or noon, it doesn’t really matter. The vibe is all about taking your time and easing into the day.

2. Coffee, Please (But Make It Strong) ☕

The first order of business? Coffee. Strong, black, and preferably served in a chipped mug that’s seen better days. This isn’t about fancy lattes or frappuccinos – it’s about the kind of coffee that gets you going after a long night out. Bonus points if you’re drinking it while listening to last night’s playlist on repeat.

3. Throw on Yesterday’s Clothes (Or Something Close) 👗

Forget about planning your outfit – just grab whatever’s on the floor or hanging on the back of a chair. Mismatched? Perfect. Wrinkled? Even better. The indie sleaze aesthetic is all about looking like you didn’t try too hard, even if you secretly did. Add some chunky boots or sneakers, and you’re good to go.

4. Playlist on Repeat 🎧

Music is the soundtrack to your life, so naturally, it’s playing in the background as you get ready. Whether it’s The Strokes, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or a grungy mixtape you made last night, the right tunes set the tone for your day. Bonus points if you’re still humming a song from the concert or party you went to the night before.

Aesthetic Inspo: Capturing the Messy Morning Vibe 🖼️

If you’re looking to channel that indie sleaze morning vibe into your own life, here’s some aesthetic inspo to get you started:

1. Polaroids and Disposable Cameras 📷

Capture those unfiltered morning moments with a Polaroid camera or a disposable one. The beauty of these photos is in their imperfections – the overexposure, the grain, the unexpected moments that only a film camera can capture. Stick them on your wall or tuck them into a journal for the ultimate indie sleaze photo album.

2. Vintage Decor Vibes 🕯️

Your space should feel as effortlessly cool as you do. Think mismatched furniture, vintage band posters, string lights, and a record player spinning in the corner. Add a few plants that may or may not need watering, and you’ve got the perfect indie sleaze morning setting.

3. The Playlist You Need 🎶

No indie sleaze morning is complete without the right playlist. Curate a mix of your favorite indie tracks, throw in some lo-fi beats, and don’t forget those nostalgic hits that take you back to the mid-2000s. It’s all about setting the mood and getting lost in the music as you go about your day.

Final Thoughts, Gorgeous: Embrace the Chaos, Live the Vibe 🌟

So, there you have it – a peek into the chaotic, carefree world of Messy Mornings, where the indie sleaze aesthetic is alive and well. Whether you’re reminiscing about your wild nights and lazy mornings or just looking to channel that vibe into your everyday life, remember: it’s all about embracing the mess, living in the moment, and not worrying too much about the details.

In the world of indie sleaze, perfection is overrated. It’s the imperfections, the spontaneity, and the unexpected moments that make life so much more interesting. So next time you wake up with your hair a mess and your eyeliner smudged, don’t stress – just grab your coffee, throw on some tunes, and let the day unfold however it wants to.

Ready to embrace the messy morning vibes? Let’s chat in the comments about your favorite indie sleaze moments, morning routines, and everything else that makes this chaotic, carefree lifestyle so irresistible! 💕

#2014 nostalgia #2014 grunge #2014 tumblr #2014 aesthetic #2014 revival #indie sleaze #soft grunge #good morning #sunrise #morning routine #alternative

21 notes · View notes

casanovawrites · 1 month ago

Text

random sentence prompts ━ from various tv shows, part 17

i’m so tired of missing you.

stop giving me reasons to walk out.

sometimes the most persuasive argument is saying nothing at all.

you act so cold, it’s really hard to know you have any feelings.

this is who you’ve become. you can’t wash it off. it’s in you.

i feel like i lost someone i was with my whole life.

everyone’s kind of an asshole at 18.

fine. do whatever the fuck you want.

i am at the end of my rope. please.

everything that used to make sense doesn’t anymore.

this isn’t gonna be the last time you get exactly what you want and realize it isn’t what you wanted.

all you talk about is leaving this place.

sometimes i get angry, and i’m sorry.

“maybe” to me is the same thing as “no.”

i’m not okay, am i?

how about i just sit here with you until you’re ready. okay?

that’s why they call it a rock and a hard place. not a rock and a soft, comfy pillow.

you don’t get to judge me. i’m doing the best i can.

what happens next, that’s on me.

broken people don’t survive here.

it’s not your fault. you wanna feel like shit, fine. but feel like shit because your life is fucked.

you wanna talk about what can and can’t be real? that’s the part you wanna focus on?

i haven’t heard good gossip in hours, and i need a good hit real bad.

not everything can be on your time.

if you wanna date people, we gotta stop hanging out with each other. it’s just math.

respectfully, i’ll die trying.

you help me, i help you. that’s the way it goes.

i’m gonna put this as delicately as possible. how stupid are you?

all we can do right now is wait.

i saw something that wasn’t there. that’s not the first time that’s happened.

in this fucking ugly world, that kind of love does not exist.

i’m still your friend, i’m totally your friend, but you can be a little cruel.

that woman will eat you alive.

between you and me, i have seen some really crazy shit lately.

you had so much respect for me that i started to learn how to respect myself.

i’m not someone who falls for fucked up, unavailable people.

when i’m mad, i don’t listen well.

welcome to your worst nightmare.

i don’t know what to do, and that really freaks me out.

you have no idea how lonely it is out here.

it wasn’t my choice to be this way.

i’m torn between my best future and my best life.

i feel like i’m hanging on by a thread here.

i wasn’t always like this, you know.

people wanna know if you’re a hero or an accomplice.

you should be mad at you.

i don’t like people going through my stuff.

you don’t have to defend yourself to me or anyone else who really knows you.

there is a fine line between savagery and consequence.

i’m the most clear-minded i’ve been in a long time, trust me.

there are no mistakes, just choices, and you chose what matters to you.

i think you mistook me for one of your little tricks.

i know how hard you work to keep yourself at a distance from everyone on the planet, but it’s not working for you anymore.

guess what, we were never safe.

what part of this is okay?

you just say what you want, not what anyone else wants, then you do that.

do you feel this? most people don’t have this. this is rare.

you’re not living your life. and if you don’t take any risks, you might as well be dead.

i’m not gonna end up sad and alone and full of regret.

let’s be known and gay together.

i pretended everything was fine. i think that just made everything worse.

you won’t be alone, but you’ll still get lonely.

i’ll tell you what i’d like to do next, i’d like to fucking murder somebody. you, maybe.

i’m turning into somebody i can’t stand.

i’m not gonna lie, you drive me crazy sometimes, but we’re in this together. you’re not alone.

i need help, don’t i? i’m really fucked up.

i don’t feel like i have anything left to give.

there are always going to be monsters in the world. it doesn't matter where you are. but i promised myself i would never let them scare the life out of me.

you’d be surprised how quickly all this becomes normal.

if you don’t learn from your mistakes, you’re doomed to repeat them, right?

life always seems to have other plans.

my anger’s like carbon monoxide. it’s odorless, tasteless, colorless, and completely toxic, but only to me. i don’t take my anger out on anyone other than myself.

#sentence prompts #rp sentence prompts #rp ask meme #one liner sentence starters #rp one liners #meme #ask meme #*

16 notes · View notes

civilotterneer · 2 months ago

Text

The Search for Civ

We walked for another few hours, and before I knew it, a break in the long brick bridge finally came.

"I welcome you to one of the Hell's Arcane Focal Points," Livic said with much less energy than usual.

The focus he pointed to was a large, brick, cylindrical structure in the middle of the bridge, breaking up the infinite length. It glowed with lights and almost seemed too well-built to be a hellish structure, given what I've seen of the Hells so far.

"So, we're gonna have to use the focal point to cast the teleportation spell," Livic explained, "We're 'relatively' close to this 'Adastra' planet in hell-dimensions, so we just have to use a powerful teleport spell to get to where Civ is."

"Alright, sounds relatively simple. Will you be able to get us out afterwards?" I asked.

"For sure. Traveling to Hell is easy, getting back out is what's hard. We'll have to travel back from where we came and go to another nearby Focal Point to basically do exactly what we do here, but back to your home world," continued Livic.

"Could we use my emergency escape charm?" I asked, holding the small charm in my pocket.

"We could, but I can't make any promises that it'll work at that distance," said Livic, "It's probably more likely to work once we're outside of Hell, but I sure wouldn't want to try it unless we had no choice."

Once again, Livic's magical knowledge, something I've begun to take as real instead of made-up bluff at this point, was greatly surprising, and strangely reassuring.

"Do I need to help at all?" I asked.

Before he responded, a flurry of screeching came from the bridge behind us. Turning, a swarm of imps had appeared, as well as other undiscernible figures, and were quickly closing in on us. It was way more than I had seen before, and I doubt Livic's 'friend' will be any help this time.

"For starters, keep us covered," Livic said flatly, "I can do the spell, but I'll need to focus and not be eaten alive by angry imps or bone devils."

"Understood."

<<Last Page - Page 20 - Next Page>>

#furry #fursona #3d render #otter furry #blender #Lye #Livic #The Search for Civ #Civil Otterneer

10 notes · View notes

tokyopewpew · 1 month ago

Text

Solas and the Nature of Spirits

aka how this idiot might be able to think the idiot way he does

Sorry not trying to woobify Solas but it’s gonna sound like that to many I’m sure.

He’s just such an interesting squeaky toy to chew on! So much is recontextualized after Veilguard! IDK i could be totally wrong but its been interesting to see people totally villainize him or be so unsympathetic. So warning: this is going to be long and kind of a follow up on my long tags post about Solas and Cole. Let’s go!

What I want to establish isn’t that Solas is faultless or not intended to be seen as antagonistic. I don’t think he is a villain, he’s a tragic hero at best or ya know. What he’s always said he is: a trickster. I don’t want to completely absolve him of all the terrible shit he’s done, but I think his explicitly poetically tragic character foundation always made it easy to swallow that those are his choices. Of course he did that, it’s the most narratively tragic option. So when I see criticisms of him being a villain or saying he should have done something different, simply said no is like ok… Yes in real life. But we’re in the fiction world where that is not his Character Type, that is not his Archetype. Which leads me into what I was yapping about on my previous post.

The nature of Spirits: I’ve seen talk of Solas’ abuse, his trauma, and I’ve seen an interesting take that by being thousands of years old he should have worked through all that shit already and not be such a petty bitch. Which idk, some of us are petty bitches by nature, trauma or otherwise. But anyways: I want to talk about the trauma of person-hood and Cole’s quest in Inquisition.

So Cole’s quest being reflected on in VG post reveal that the Evanuris were Spirits. Juicy. Delicious. But something I think that happens in these games is that people chase companion Approval regardless of RP. Alas it's hard to fight the dopamine of brrr make the number go higher, make the pretty elfman like me more. BUT the Cole quest is like the one line of questioning where you catch Solas in a weird half lie about court intrigue. (i promise this will make sense).

Solas: I had forgotten how I missed court intrigue.

Inquisitor: You miss court intrigue? When were you at court?

[Solas slightly disapproves]

Solas: Oh! Well... Never... directly, of course!

As pointed out by many others: this is the one instance where asking him more questions earns you disapproval vs approval. So choosing to make Cole human, to me, is the more interesting choice because it earns you disapproval. I’m still going to analyze both options don’t worry though.

To have Cole become more of a spirit is in line with Solas’ core beliefs. Clearly. He believes spirit’s natures shouldn’t be corrupted, they have singular, core traits that they must be adhered to and physical beings should not abuse them. Cool and true statements I would hope we all agree with.

Some other users have already tread this ground. But by affirming Cole’s nature as a spirit, Solas sees the Inquisitor be respectful to Cole’s nature and upon reflection in Veilguard: see his own past redefined. It can be healing for him to see an Inquisitor show the empathy and grace he wasn’t. Which is fantastic, lovely, intimate and I think goes a long way to him seeing the differences in the modern world vs the ancient one. He can see that people here do care for spirits and they can be welcome and exist as they are!

But what I think is juicier is earning that disapproval by siding with Varric and letting Cole be more human. Knowing what we know now, it’s so easy to see that Solas doesn’t want to see his same path be repeated. (Which, another side note that you can earn approval from Solas allowing HIM to kill the mages in his personal quest, but he disapproves of Cole not letting go and let god with the templar? He wants Cole to be calm and forget his pain, become detached, as he is unable to be anymore.) It’s a fantastic echo/mirror/theme repeated. And now we’re really able to get to the evidence that supports my thesis.

Cole turning more human has him more tethered to the world. He feels more feelings, he can’t make people forget him, if he wants to offer comfort and compassion he has to do that with words and his presence, not magic. if he turns more into a spirit, he speaks with less emotion and is more detached from the people around him. He is compassionate, of course, as is his nature, but that is all he is and he does not understand deeper complexities of emotions. HE might be compassion, but he isn't seen or understood as a compassionate person ya know? As a spirit, he takes a very easy straightforward approach to helping people (make them forget) rather than the messier, more complicated, way a person does.

So using this as a reflection on Solas and the Evanuris: bro has never been able to get over the trauma of becoming a person. He does not know how to exist with the complexities beyond being just Wisdom. He is trying to run Spirit Software on physical hardware. And like, sure, you technically can, but he’s ignoring all the background processes that are contradicting and fucking up his systems.

I imagine as a spirit of Wisdom, his goal was just to accrue information, vibe, and give opinions if asked. By who? IDK other spirits? Early people? Probs not the titans and dwarves. Probs a pretty chill existence other than the war thing going on, that he generally is able to ignore until good ol’ Mythal comes calling.

Now she… is a lot. But I’ll extend the same grace to her as I do Solas which is to say, no one has done the shit they have done before, no one has transcended their nature. I think the Evanuris, as fucked as they are, have similar trauma over their creation. And the road to hell is paved with good intentions and I think they all believe they have good intentions.

If Mythal is a spirit of benevolence, and she managed to convince herself that taking a physical form to protect her people is the right thing to do, ok. She is clearly able to justify that taking a physical form will help in the long run. Just because she’s a spirit of that emotion doesn’t mean she’s right. BUT, add onto that a new slew of emotions and complexities to the concept of benevolence (not just retribution, but selfish desires being masked as being for the greater good), I can see the Evanuris being in denial and assuming that they are continuing to operate as detached and unbiased as when they were spirits (they were not).

Which is why I think Solas was convinced by Mythal. Surely she was operating with the best intentions, for him and for other spirits and not just her and the other’s agendas. And his subsequent horror and regret over taking a physical form sets up his whole Lucy with the football situation of believing, hoping, Mythal is still the pure being of good he knew her to be.

Surely her benevolence is not conditional? Wouldn't that go against her nature, her purpose?

I think that’s why he gets so fucked up when the Evanuris go against their word. And I think he feels shitty and guilty in new horrible ways he didn’t when he was a spirit. He was able to stay detached, like Cole could be, and dispense “objective" wisdom without clouded feelings of guilt. He didn’t have to worry about other feelings or the outcomes, because spirits are simple creatures and really so long as he’s asked a question and someone appreciates the answer that’s all he needs. Becoming a person and subsequently seeing the consequences to the advice you consider correct, and either a) being ignored by the people who asked for your advice (Mythal) or b) see it followed through and having to live with the consequences (yuck, he never had to do that before and it sucks now).

Like the memory of the citadel attack where Fellasan is horrified that he could send those spirits to their death so callously. Solas makes an argument like a detached wisdom spirit would. Our objective was to retrieve the relic, what’s the best way to do that? Create a distraction that is big enough to make your enemy think this is your actual goal for an agent to retrieve the item. In order to do that, you need it to be convincing so go whole hog. So long as a spirit doesn’t go against its nature, there is no technical foul. It isn't sociopathic thinking but it’s a brutally clean line of logic. It’s similar to the Nadas Durthalan, you have to ask the right question. Fellasan didn’t ask how to get out with the least bloodshed: he asked for the relic.

So Solas has a fucked up way of just trying to keep operating like a wisdom spirit and not feel anything else. He keeps trying to answer the questions asked of him. He keeps trying to believe in Mythal’s core nature, and in doing so he puts blinders on and hobbles himself horribly trying to ignore all his other emotional complexities. Guilt, regret, his desperation for contact and comfort, things he didn’t need before. He can’t go through the ego death of accepting he is forever changed, let alone that Mythal is. And god forbid he, a spirit of wisdom, was wrong. Operated illogically, blinded by emotion.

Which interestingly, given the final scene, I’m still unsure of how much his service of her is his own denial or genuine magical compulsion. She was clearly able to defy his nuggets of wisdom but I’m not sure how much was him trying to console himself that she is Benevolence, she has to mean well, it is her nature, and how much is being bound to her service. But either way, I see his dogged pursuit of tearing down the Veil as him continuing to follow her orders or answer the question/task asked of him.

Mythal wanted to protect her people. The elves of today are not really her people. She wants vengeance for her murder. Solas is either magically compelled to follow her orders or is again, so bent out of shape to exist as he once was, he’ll restore her people as they once were by tearing down the Veil. He can convince himself that her desire for that is Good at its core, the same way he can convince himself This is the Only Way because its the way he sees how to do it and he is Wisdom so it must be the right choice.

It’s a very poetically tragic, stupid, logical fallacy way of thinking but that is a classic tragedy.

I also love the idea of him experiencing the Horrors of the humanoid body. Does he enjoy eating? Does he enjoy taste but hate that he now Has to eat? Based on what foods we find in the lighthouse I’d guess yes. This dude hates that he has to eat, piss, and shit, and gets tummy aches now. He wants to go back to simpler times.

But yeah, those are my thoughts mostly! I think brother Egg has been trying to keep as one track as possible, to the detriment of the world around him lmao.

#dragon age #da:tv #da:tv solas #solas #da:tv spoilers #i said I was going to do a Formal Post on this and i did #blah blah blah #if ur mean and engage in bad faith i will bite you

8 notes · View notes