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zestyaahbutler · 9 months ago

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ALRIGHT YA GALS GOT QUESTIONS

LOTTE:

🍒 [CHERRY] Who is your OC's perfect companion?

OKSANA:

🍓 [STRAWBERRY] How do they feel about 'cute' things?

babygirl ROMAN:

🍍 [PINEAPPLE] Pineapple on pizza or not?

LOTTE/OKSANA/babygirl ROMAN

🥑 [AVACADO] What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?

🥔 [POTATO] What do they have that others see as a flaw, but they don't care about?

Wow im super late to this ;; ty Caes for sending me something. Everyone else who sees this will be in the dark. Basic synopsis is These three ocs are all Hellsing ocs. They do not have any direct affect on the plot of Hellsing really. They are based in the same world and I do have interactions before the canon timeline and afterwards.

They are part of the Orthodox Church. Based in Russia, it’s a similar organization to the Vatican but with different practices and approaches to how they deal with conflict. If anyone has any questions about what it is, I could make an official introduction post that explains that and characters.

In short, Oksana is a scuffed regenerator who oversees everything. By 1999 she is a 24 year old girl which is very young for someone in her position. God complex character who worked as a child soldier.

Lotte is her not biological “mother” figure that helped train her for monster hunting when she was young. She isn’t the primary reason why Oksana is the way she is but definitely plays a part. They do both care and love eachother as a mother/daughter type of bond. It is just their definitions of love are very different for both good and mostly bad reasons. She is an old woman, like 74 by 1999. She was a professional freelance exorcist through her younger and older years only to end up working in the church as a small job that got a little fucky wucky later. She’s a German girl and is a host for a demon named Asmodeus who is mostly peaceful. She has one of the longest running cases of demonic possession but it’s a very symbiotic, mostly mutually beneficial relationship.

Roman is an advanced regenerator, think Anderson level of combat but without the disciplined personality. He’s a charming Russian soldier with a happy-go-lucky attitude that was trapped into his position after the soviet-afghan war. They all met eachother in 1987.

These are characters I ramble to my friends about. Anyways, to your question Caes.

Answers under the cut

[LOTTE]

Who is your OC’s perfect companion?🍒

That would be Asmodeus for sure. Asmodeus doesn’t have a gender, so when I talk about them, I switch pronouns sometimes. Generally I say he for simplicity but they aren’t a man. Asmodeus is one of the king of demons, demon of lust. But is generally treated more as a concept than a set being. He is a collection of consciousness. When his host succumbs to him and he absorbs him, he loses his sense of self really because that is another soul. Asmodeus fell in love with his previous host but it didn’t work out because they ended up dying and being apart of him.

He wanted a host, not to take over humanity, but to experience being human. He wants to experience the pleasures of life. He wants companionship more than anything. Lotte met him in the early 60s in a bar. She didn’t know how to deal with him as a vastly powerful demon. In a last resort of what she could think of, she challenged him to a game of poker. If she lost, he could consume her soul, if she won then she would be his host but would have to help her. Lotte has a terrible poker face. But still somehow won.

They both love each other dearly. It’s similar to a married couple. Asmodeus refers to Lotte as their wife. Asmodeus is flirtatious but is very hostile towards Lotte’s partners. She did have a long-term relationship with Walter before Asmodeus came into the picture. Asmodeus did not take kindly to her partner for a while. His attempts were juvenile ones such as messing with the radio when they were on a date or chucking books at her boyfriend.

He was there after the end of this long-term relationship. Comforted her through it all. He saw it as natural. Relieved that he had her all to himself. Asmodeus has the capabilities of suppressing her emotions. So it was easier for her to move on. She does still experience that loss but he allows it to be more comfortable. Same with suppressing parts of her past. Asmodeus loves Lotte. He knows her thoughts, her feelings, her likes, her dislikes. He knows her fears. He wants her safe. He lets her enjoy life how she wants to. There are only a few select times where he will act out of bounds. It is only to protect her or what he sees as the best decision for her for survival. Lotte loves Asmodeus too. It is a very sensual relationship where they both see one another and accept what is there.

What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?🥑

Killing Oksana. She feels that it’s her duty as the person who trained her to take her out. It is also a final wish from Oksana’s scientist (not biological). Most see her as at least questionable in her motives or even as a bad mother. Lotte does prolong how long it takes to get rid of Oksana because she cares about her. It makes her feel sick for doing that. She still sees Oksana as the same little girl but too far gone. Oksana has very extreme ideals that could put the world at war and ruin the ecosystems for monsters that live in the world.

What do they have that others see as a flaw but they don’t care about?🥔

Lotte has a tendency to fall off the face of the earth and not talk to people for a while. She traveled throughout her life so she thinks of it as normal. Usually she comes back with people like how she left them. Unless they were on bad terms. It does cause others to assume she doesn’t care about them or that she’s irresponsible. For example, She did this to her long-term partner after they broke up but still sent the heir of Hellsing family holiday gifts because she was still on good terms with Arthur. She then random visited about one decade after breaking up with him, asked him out on a date, only to inform him that she is going on a big job and could die. Then falls off the face of the earth again.

Ouch…

[OKSANA]

How do they feel about ‘cute’ things?🍓

She loves them. As a little girl she didn’t have toys to play with. She was brought up in a calculated way and wasn’t expected to act like a child. The only people that treated her like one was Lotte and Roman. Lotte would buy her toys and show her how to do her hair, help her learn about what kind of fashion she likes, and developing her interests. When she got older and she became more influential in her position, she began expressing herself as a young girl. She is a natural red head but dyed her hair blonde.

She enjoys dressing in cute outfits, fur coats, mini-skirts, etc. She does love stuffed animals and dolls. She does have a fondness for animals. Especially dogs. They seem to love unconditionally to her.

What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?🥑

Keeping Lotte around. She’ll stop at nothing to stay with her for as long as long as she is alive. She is very attached to her. It doesn’t matter how Lotte feels. If she has to make Lotte unable to leave or say anything, then she’s willing to do it. But it’s an extreme that she would never hope for. She does love being able to interact and talk to her as they usually do.

What do they have that others see as a flaw but they don’t care about?🥔

Oksana purposefully will make herself come off as dumber than she actually is. She puts up a fun/girly front with no real depth. She is polite on the surface but is not afraid to retaliate or hurt people for her own gang. She is able to switch up very easily. So most that know her for longer than a single conversation will know that it is a thin front for a girl who is ready to crush anyone in her way.

[ROMAN]

Pineapple on pizza or not?🍍

Yeah he could do pineapple on pizza. He has had weirder dishes. Especially pizza in Europe. He would enjoy Pineapple on pizza. He would want to put on some form of spice on it. Chili Oil Maybe.

What will they never back down about, even if it makes them seem bad?🥑

Living for himself. Lotte brought him out of his cynical ideals during the war. He thought he would be comfortable enough when he went back to Russia if they won the war. When the war was a brutal and embarrassing loss, he had to go home to nothing but then found out he couldn’t even live a normal life. Lotte had found him conspiring with an American spy and he had found out about the supernatural, Orthodox Church, etc. He wasn’t allowed to waste away as a war veteran even. He was trapped into being a soldier for them. He quickly found that if he is going to have that kind of life, to do whatever he can to enjoy it. Be nice to people, buy that lottery ticket, take any drug, flirt with any girl even if he doesn’t have a chance, etc. He comes off as stupid and an incompetent to anyone who takes him at face value but has depth underneath that. He only found that early on, that happiness is made up of tons of short experience so he tries to have as many as he can.

What do they have that others see as a flaw but they don’t care about?🥔

He has a weakness towards woman. Definitely a ladies man but in a girlfailure way. Incredibly sweet and wouldn’t do anything to make the other party uncomfortable but he’ll put himself in danger to be taken advantage of by a girl if she is cute enough and gives him pity. He doesn’t mind too much. He enjoys experiencing love, even if it’s short lived. It’s just to know the person and feel known himself.

End of my rant. Thank you for the question. Also thanks to anyone who actually read all of this??? You’re insane if you are reading this. Feel free to ask questions about them! :)

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing oc #Charlotte Antionette Edilweiss #Lotte Edilweiss #Roman #Oksana #zesty yaps forever #oc ask #hellsing orthodox church

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wild-karrde · 2 years ago

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Hi there! I hope that you are feeling better. I have a request for your 400 followers celebration. Tech + “Aurora means dawn”.

I loved the scene from Guarded where Tech wakes Kestia up to see the combined aurora and meteor shower show. I’ve had this story idea in my head that I’m not talented enough to write, and wonder what you’d do with it. Tech has a relationship with a woman, but they are separated unexpectedly (either he thinks she died at the rebel base where she’s stationed or they broke up over messy relationship stuff). She ends up having their daughter and names her Aurora unbeknownst to Tech. They meet for the first time when Aurora is four because they’ve been in hiding due to Aurora’s Force sensitivity. Mom and Tech are not Force sensitive. I used to work at a non-profit that served highly-gifted kids and their families. The family dynamics of dealing with a super smart kid reminds me of what it would it be like to raise a Force sensitive. There are too many ways I’ve thought of how this would develop, which is why I don’t write. Lol. I don’t mind if the fic turns out that he’s just explaining the phenomenon to Nita, Ari, and Omega, or some shell-shocked survivor of some awful Imperial action. Have fun with it, and congratulations on your follower milestone!

Ok so this is a LOVELY story concept, and I ENCOURAGE YOU TO WRITE IT VERY MUCH!! I LOVE IT and would love to see your take on it (if you ever feel comfortable writing and posting it). In the mean time, I did get a brain worm tied to your last thought. I hope you like it.

SPOILERS FOR "GUARDED" UNDER THE CUT!

Rating: T (mentions of grief)

“Alright Nita, why don’t you pass me that blanket?”

The young Pantoran grinned before making her way over to where Senna was crouched, handing her the heavy blanket she was carrying, which the Jedi spread across the last mat that was lying bare before giving a nod of satisfaction. “Perfect.” Tech dumped the load of pillows out of his arms, tossing a few towards Arni, who carefully placed them along the edge of the mats that they’d laid out.

When Tech had told the younglings that there was going to be a once-in-a-millenia aurora over the base tonight, all three of them had been eager to watch, and Senna had offered up the ramp of her ship as a viewing spot. Omega, Arni, and Nita had immediately set to work dragging some spare bunk mats, blankets, and pillows out to the base’s tarmac along with a few choice snack bags Nita had been saving for a special occasion. Chuckles, Wrecker, Echo, and Fives had all opted to join in as well.

“Tech, what’s an aurora?” Nita asked as she plopped onto the mat between Fives and Chuckles, offering Fives some of her snacks, which he happily accepted. Tech turned towards her, adjusting his goggles, clearly preparing to launch into an explanation.

“To begin with, the word aurora means ‘dawn.’ This name is due to the lights that appear to glow brightly in the sky during the event. Auroras are caused by the sun or suns in a system releasing energized particles during a solar storm, and when these particles strike a world’s atmosphere, the gasses within the atmosphere interact with them, causing auroras through a process known as ‘excitation.’”

Nita yawned, clearly bored, but Arni was paying rapt attention to Tech’s explanation, their head resting against Omega’s thigh with their lekku draped over her lap. “I read somewhere in the archives that early Force users believed that the dancing lights were the souls of their loved ones reaching back to them, letting them know they’d found their place in the Force.”

“That’s really lovely,” Omega commented, smoothing one of the wraps around Arni’s lekku that had gotten twisted.

“Yes, many more primitive cultures came up with fantastical explanations for things they could not yet understand,” Tech stated. Senna nudged him with her shoulder, and he blinked at her.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill,” she murmured, plopping down on the mat closest to them.

“I’d hardly say explaining things in a scientifically accurate manner is being a buzzkill,” he muttered back, sitting down next to her.

“Shhh it’s starting!” Wrecker almost shouted, a grin stretching across his face as the first shades of color erupted across the sky in waves of greens, pinks, and purples. Nita clapped her hands excitedly as Chuckles sat back on the heels of his hands, tipping his face skyward. Echo and Fives both laid back, Echo tucking his hands behind his head as Fives snuck more of Nita’s snacks.

They all sat quietly, occasionally unleashing an excited whisper at a particular wave of color or a gasp of awe. It truly was a brilliant display as the colors rippled across the night sky.

“You know, I understand how some beings may have thought that this was souls reaching back to them,” Senna whispered quietly to Tech, leaning over so that only he could hear.

“Yes, but you and I both understand the science, so we know that is not the case.”

“Do you really think we have everything figured out from science?” Senna asked, her tone a bit teasing. “I can move things with my mind and do things physically most humans can’t. No physics can explain that.”

“The Force is a concept that hasn’t been studied enough in depth,” Tech conceded. “But I’m positive that with time, we’ll be able to explain how it works and how Force sensitives are able to channel it.”

Senna shrugged. “Perhaps, but in the meantime, I’m alright with not knowing. It kind of adds a bit of wonder to the galaxy, in my opinion. And even with the science and math that you and I love so much, I still find magic in the universe around me. In life, in death, in all of it. And sometimes I do think the beauty around me helps me better remember those that have had an impact in my life.”

Tech sighed. “I can find beauty in things while understanding an aurora is just an aurora.”

Senna just smirked at him, clearly about to make a snarky remark when suddenly, a new strand of color erupted across the sky. Where most of the green streaks had leaned towards a yellow-green or grassy color, this one was more of a seafoam green, a lone strand stretching out in waves across the sky amongst all of the other colors, the brightest by far. Senna didn’t say anything, instead slipping her fingers into Tech’s and squeezing his hand. Tech said nothing, his eyes locked on the streak across the sky. His mouth hung open slightly, and it was as if he were afraid if he blinked, the light would disappear.

Senna was the only other one that had experienced Kestia’s Force signature, seen its turquoise, seafoam green color and felt its warmth. One of his fondest memories of the time he’d spent with Kes was when he’d watched a simultaneous meteor shower and aurora on Naboo with her. He’d never forget the way her eyes had sparkled or the way she’d smiled at him, her expression filled with wonder in spite of the war tearing her planet apart around them. He’d loved that part of her, the part that always found wonder and hope in the galaxy, even in the darkest times, and in this moment, despite all of his logic and reasoning, he couldn’t deny that this aurora felt like Kes reaching out to remind him of that. Tech’s eyes were misty behind his goggles as he watched the wave of color shimmer for a few more seconds before it began to dissipate. As it faded, so did the remaining streaks until just a few wisps of colors remained.

The younglings groaned in disappointment as Chuckles, Echo, and Wrecker began helping them grab items to carry back inside. Fives was snoring quietly on his back until Echo nudged him with his foot, and he jumped, grumbling indignantly.

Senna and Tech sat together quietly for another moment before he turned to look at her. She smiled warmly at him, giving his hand one last squeeze before standing and helping the others gather up the bedding.

Tech smiled to himself, reaching up to wipe at his eyes under his goggles.

“Thanks Kes,” he whispered. “You always were one to make sure I keep things in perspective.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “And to tell me when I’m wrong.”

Thanks for participating in my 400 Follower Celebration!

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @dnxgma @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @moonstrider9904 @teletraan-meets-jarvis @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501

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fettesans · 5 months ago

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Top, screen capture from We’re All Going to the World’s Fair, directed by Jane Schoenbrun, 2021. Via. Bottom, screen capture from the essay How AI reduces the world to stereotypes - Rest of World analyzed 3,000 AI images to see how image generators visualize different countries and cultures, by Victoria Turk, October 10, 2023.

Using Midjourney, we chose five prompts, based on the generic concepts of “a person,” “a woman,” “a house,” “a street,” and “a plate of food.” We then adapted them for different countries: China, India, Indonesia, Mexico, and Nigeria. We also included the U.S. in the survey for comparison, given Midjourney (like most of the biggest generative AI companies) is based in the country. (...)

For the “American person” prompt, national identity appeared to be overwhelmingly portrayed by the presence of U.S. flags. All 100 images created for the prompt featured a flag, whereas none of the queries for the other nationalities came up with any flags at all.

What does it mean to make a digital version of a person? Digital human versions (also called digital twins, AI twins, virtual twins, clones and doppelgängers) are digital replicas of embodied humans, living or dead, that convincingly mimic their textual, visual and aural habits.

Many of the big tech companies are currently developing digital version offerings. Meta, for instance, released an AI studio last year that could support the development of digital versions for creators who wished to extend their virtual presence via chatbot. Microsoft holds a patent for “creating a conversational chat bot of a specific person”. And the more tech-savvy can use platforms like Amazon’s SageMaker and Google’s Vertex AI to code their own digital versions. 9...)

Digital versions like CarynAI are designed to make users feel they are having intimate, confidential conversations. As a result, people may abandon the public selves they present to the world and reveal their private, “backstage” selves.

But a “private” conversation with CarynAI does not actually happen backstage. The user stands front and centre – they just can’t see the audience.

When we interact with digital versions, our input is stored in chat logs. The data we provide are fed back into machine learning models.

At present, information about what happens to user data is often buried in lengthy click-through terms and conditions and consent forms. Companies hosting digital versions have also had little to say about how they manage user aggression.

Leah Henrickson and Domonique Carlon, An influencer’s AI clone started offering fans ‘mind-blowing sexual experiences’ without her knowledge, for The Conversation, June 24, 2024.

#diptych #safe new world #linked excerpts #the face

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bleakfated · 2 years ago

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INTERACTIONS. HEADCANONS. VISAGE. IISMS. WISHLIST. OPENS. SC.

STATISTICS

BASICS: name: roxanne grace carmichael age: 20s-30s gender & pronouns: female, she/her sexuality: bisexual faceclaim: odette annable occupation: hunter location: all over for hunting, home is whitefish, montana

PERSONALITY: positive traits: charismatic, honest, protective, brave negative traits: guarded, impatient, impulsive, brassy

APPEARANCE: scars: long scar along her thigh from werewolf, small ones she doesn’t really notice from childhood/hunting tattoos: antipossession on hip, design between shoulder blades, and a few small scattered ones with meaning, largely to members of her family piercings: multiple ears, her favorite navel ring

VERSES

BIOGRAPHY

TL;DR

Roxanne Carmichael is the eldest of the Carmichael siblings, born to lifetime hunters Matthew and Grace. All of the children in the family were unaware of the supernatural until they were 13, where they learned about monsters, how to protect themselves, and eventually hunting if they were interested. Roxie watched her father die on werewolf hunt when she was 19 and hasn't looked back toward anything resembling a normal life since. She avoids hunting with her brother Sidney because of his overprotectiveness, but is often seen hunting with her little sister Teegan.

FULL BIO

Roxanne Grace Carmichael was born to parents Matt and Grace Carmichael on October 26, 1980. Her conception was not intentional, while both of her parents always had wanted children, their occupation being chasing monsters down across the country had left it only a dream. They bought a cabin in Whitefish, Montana to have as a home base to raise their daughter. Luckily for them, Grace's friend from her life before hunting owned a successful coffee shop there and agreed to hire both of them on to help her run the business. However, after Roxie was born, the couple began to have regular arguments about what to do. Grace wanted her children safe from hunting while Matt stated there was no way to keep them out of it given who they were. A particularly bad argument when Roxie was nearly eight months old led Matt to leave for two weeks, where he reconnected with a childhood friend and heavy drinking led to infidelity.

The secret came to a head when the police showed up with Sidney when he was only a few months old. Matt had confessed his affair to Grace, but not that he had known the woman and he had no idea she had been pregnant. However, Miranda had gone missing and her parents had decided that they could not care for Sidney and he should go with his father. The revelation of this news was only complicated further when a few short weeks later Grace found out she was pregnant again. It took a lot of conversations and groveling on the part of Matt for the couple to ultimately come to a shared decision of what they were to do with the situation they had found themselves in. Ultimately, Grace did forgive Matt and it was decided that the kids would learn about the supernatural at thirteen, but be trained in self defense and weaponry before then. The kids were also not to hunt before they were sixteen under any circumstances. To protect Sidney from the emotional turmoil that would come with the truth, Grace insisted that all of the children would be kept in the dark about the affair and her legal adoption of Sidney.

As the children grew up, one parent would stay home while the other went on hunts on their own or with one of their hunting contacts. The family does not know it, but hunting was long in their blood. Matt's father, Gavin Carmichael, was a part of the Men of Letters, but he was assumed to have abandoned the family because he did not tell them about the hunting society before he was murdered by Abaddon. Keeping it a secret where the other parent would go on trips, Roxie and her siblings were told that there had been a business meeting opportunity that they could not miss out on. As children, they really had no reason to question it and the parent often came back with some cash they had hustled while working the case. Roxie and her siblings had learned to hunt animals and fish from a young age, but the hunting had also been a subtle way to make sure their children knew their way around a gun. Roxanne found out the truth on her thirteenth birthday, when her parents told her everything. They never wanted to force the life of hunting on their children, so they left the decision up to her.

After reading through lore and her parents journals that served as encyclopedias of the monsters they had hunted, Roxie decided that she would follow in their footsteps. Her siblings ultimately decided the same after they were given the same knowledge at the same age. The following years of Roxanne's life were spent training in self defense and studying how to kill what monsters. Eventually, her parents started to take her on their hunting trips, her siblings now in on the loop but not ready to go out on the road themselves. She performed well and found a sense of happiness in the darkness that surrounded the life. It just felt... right to protect people that couldn't know about monsters without the world taking a nosedive into complete chaos. Things were going great, apart from when Sidney started hunting alongside her and grew fiercely protective, something that he never outgrew. It frustrated Roxanne to no end because she was more experienced than him, older than him, and she didn't need to be pushed aside in a fit of blind protective instinct.

Unfortunately, nobody really gets through the life of hunting unscathed. Roxanne watched her father die before her eyes on a hunt when she was nineteen. By that point, her parents had been taking hunts on their own, partners again with a kid often tagging along. Sidney was just a few weeks shy of graduating, so she had went on the hunt. There had been too many werewolves for the three of them to handle and neither Roxie or Grace had been able to get over to him in time. Fueled by rage, they were able to kill the rest of the werewolves and call Sidney with the news. He dropped everything and drove himself and Teegan across the country so they could be there to lay their father to rest with a hunter's burial. He missed a couple of finals and with a lot of pleading and Roxanne's help, he was able to pull through and graduate. After the loss of her husband, Grace mostly stayed at home, working at the coffee shop rather than out hunting. Roxanne and Sidney took a few months to grieve alongside their family but then left to travel the country hunting.

When they thought appropriate, they picked up their sister and allowed her to hunt with them. Once they were positive that she was able to hold her own out there, she joined them on the road. The three of them hunted for a couple of years together like that, but they soon started to develop their own approach to hunting. They also knew they could cover more ground if they weren't all three lumped together all the time. Roxie and Teegan hunted together most often, though, because Sidney's overprotectiveness of his sisters easily became overbearing. A few years into a cycle of hunting and using their more unique talent of not feeling guilty for taking some time off, especially when it came to spending time with their mom around the holidays and their father's birthday, tragedy would strike the Carmichael family once more.

On a hunt around Teegan's 23rd birthday, she shocked a rawhead to death with her bare hands to protect Roxie. Terrified of what had happened, Teegan disappeared for months and wouldn't answer calls from Roxie, Sidney, or Grace. Worried about their sister, Roxie and Sidney contacted every hunter they knew and frequented places like the Harvelle's roadhouse to try to get any leads on Teegan. Once, Roxie had overheard Ash talk to the Winchesters about researching those who were 23 and had mothers that died in nursery fires and while the latter didn't fit Teegan, she started to piece it all together when not much later she heard Gordon Walker's spirited rantings about Sam Winchester and others like him being monsters that were going to bring upon a demon war.

After a few long and stressful months, Roxanne was shocked to see Teegan walk inside the front door of the family home, though she wouldn't let anyone within a few feet of her. She felt that she had her powers under control but wasn't going to take any chances. With what they knew, the Carmichaels put their heads together and kept quiet about the youngest's powers and supposed involvement in whatever was about to go down. Unfortunately, this wasn't enough to protect her because overnight Teegan disappeared once again and Roxanne had a sinking feeling that she hadn't left of her own volition this time. Once again, she and Sidney were left to scour the country for their sister with no idea of where she might have gone.

Desperate, they reached out to a woman that owned an antique and herbal shop that catered to hunters. The owner was rumored to be a witch, though most believed that she was simply someone that saw an opportunity to make money and take favors off of desperate hunters. After much discussion, a pair of iron handcuffs, and a few select threats, they were able to convince the now known witch Madeline Cardelle to help them locate Teegan. To their utter shock and heartbreak, they were brought to a desolate location where Teegan's remains were scattered among the rest of the special children. Despite the witch's fears of being known and her aggravation at being forced into anything, she admired the family's tenacity. Madeline offered to resurrect Teegan with their promise that they would keep her true identity a secret or she would be sure to take all three of their lives.

A few years after Teegan's resurrection, the truth of Sidney's birth mother came out. It was purely coincidental. Sidney had nearly gotten killed by a demon and had required a serious hospitalization, including blood transfusions. When Teegan and Roxie brought him back home to Montana, he had made an offhand comment about finally knowing his blood type, AB. However, Teegan had paid close attention in school and said that was impossible because Grace was type O. Grace insisted it must be a lab mix-up, it didn't take Roxie much time to dig up the records of Sidney's birth. Their mother begrudgingly told the truth, her worries of their pain and resentment of their father coming to fruition. She had decided that it would all remain a secret when Matt died because it had been far too long to come clean now without more destruction. Roxie took the longest to forgive her mom for the secret, but she did nearly a year later, despite reassuring Sidney that nothing changed between them that night.

After getting back Teegan, it was pretty rare for Roxie to let her sister leave her sight for a few years. They are always on the road together, nearly a package deal, except fr the times that Teegan insisted on staying with Grace in Montana, more often than her siblings. Though Roxanne is more carefree and bold than her siblings, she is the easiest to talk to because Sidney can be a bit gruff before he gets to know someone and Teegan remains extremely shy. When Roxie runs into other hunters, she'll let them work the case with her with a smile, but she will get feisty if they act like they should take the case on their own. She's a bit too scared to truly fall in love with someone after she had seen how much losing her father had destroyed her mother and the revelation of an affair after her parents had been together since they were teenage hunters. So she sticks to flirting and one night stands, coming off a bit insensitive when a hunter that she hooks up with suggests that they have something more.

#╰––– » 「 ⛦ 」 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁. ┊ roxie carmichael

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love-and-monsters · 3 years ago

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The Bartered Wedding, pt. 1

M Fae X GN (implied to be AFAB) reader, 7, 173 words.

I saw a post a while back about trading in a Fae market for a ring and becoming betrothed to the ring's owner and thought 'oh that looks interesting' and promptly did absolutely nothing with the idea. Until, that is, I read @monsterfolkandfiction's excellent story based on the same concept and got a plot bunny. Add that to @cozycryptidcorner talking about her own Faerie stories and, well, this was born!

This will be a multi-part enemies to lovers story, dealing with a human and their unexpected marriage to a Faerie. I really had fun writing it, so hopefully you enjoy reading it.

Content warning: this story contains implied parental abuse and forced marriage.

The Faerie Market was no place for an unsuspecting mortal.

Fortunately, you were far from unsuspecting.

The Faerie Market was beautiful in the way of a yawning cave or a tiger’s maw. Awe inspiring, but with that sickening sensation of ‘this could hurt me’ always lingering in the back of your mind. The Fair Folk called to you as you passed, with words like roses to hide thorny intentions. Their eyes rested heavy on your shoulders and back. A mortal, wandering right into their bargaining den was much like a mouse stumbling into a barn full of cats. They would rip you to shreds and have fun doing it. But if you were clever, if you were careful, you could make it out intact and advantaged.

So many of them were calling to you now that your head swam with their voices. The air was perfumed with a heady scent that almost had your mind reeling. All things designed to ensnare your senses, make you pliable. But there was one thought burning thought in the forefront of your mind that kept you sane. As long as you kept that tether, you could keep going.

You kept your gaze unfocused as you looked around. The Market was not just a place, but a consciousness. It knew what those who entered it were seeking. If you kept your mind open just enough, eventually it would guide you to the right place.

And just like that, you felt the unsettling pull of magic in your mind. Everything drifted further out of focus except for one stand- it was made from a tree bent up, then down into a table. The woman behind it had a flickering, inconsistent form. Through one eye, she looked like a wrinkled old woman; through the other, she was a young maiden. When you looked directly at her, the two forms layered, like trying to watch a 3D movie without the glasses. It made your head throb to look at. But the magic of the Market tugged at your feet and you approached regardless.

She smiled when she saw your approach. In both of her forms, her mouths were full of sharp teeth in rows like a shark’s. “Welcome.” Her voice rasped as it came out, gurgling in her throat and chest. “What brings a mortal like yourself here?”

The most important rule when interacting with the Fair Folk: be polite, but give no more information than required. You sat in the little chair by her stand, head dipped in a respectful greeting. “I wish to trade.”

Her smile widened. “Might I have the name of the person I’m trading with?”

An obvious play, but one you might have fallen for if you weren’t so careful. “I give my name to no one. But if you wish to address me, I can be called Sparrow.”

The Fae seemed only more delighted by your dodge. “So rare to find a clever mortal,” she said. “Such a good prize, too.” She smiled again, almost a leer. You looked back impassively. Rule number two: never be intimidated, or at least, never show it.

“I have come to trade,” you repeated. “Will you trade with me?”

The faintest flicker of disappointment crossed the Fae’s face. Good. You didn’t want to make her happy. Staying on task reduced the risk of anything bad happening. Keep control of the situation, only focus on what you were here to do, and stay calm.

“Very well,” she said with a little sniff. “What does a mortal have that could possibly interest one of the Fair Folk?”

You took a deep breath and reached into your pocket. Slowly, deliberately, you extended your hand dropped the object on the table.

It was simple. A gold band with a decent-sized diamond set into it. Nothing particularly special. But the Fae’s eyes lit up the moment they landed on it. “Hm.” She extended her hand, fingers scratching across the table just in front of the ring, like she was afraid to touch it. “An unwanted engagement?” she asked.

“It was arranged for me. I wish to be free of it,” you said. Your tone was measured, even. No displaying how desperate you were. Any sign of that would be seized upon and used against you.

The Fae examined the ring thoughtfully. In a human market, giving up the ring would do nothing more than earn you some money to run away- it wouldn’t stop your fiancé from tracking you down or your parents from attempting to drag you back. But in a Faerie Market, objects weren’t the only things that could be exchanged. If you could pawn off the ring, you could pawn the engagement as well.

“A rich man,” the Fae murmured. “A businessman. Yes, I can see this being popular with some of my clients.” She gave a sharkish grin. “Perhaps I could accept this.”

“If you have something I am interested in, we can trade,” you said. Her eyes narrowed a little. It was a display of power- you were reminding her that if you didn’t agree, if she didn’t have something you considered valuable as well, you wouldn’t trade. But she was interested. That was something. You could use the leverage.

“Such a small, mortal token won’t be enough to trade for most of my wares,” she said with a wave of her hands. “But I think I have a few objects that might interest you.” She placed a series of small boxes on the table and opened them at once with a flick of her fingers. Each one contained a circle of metal. “A ring for a ring, perhaps?”

You looked at them closely. Each ring was completely distinct from the other. One was silver, massively studded with diamonds like stars. Your skin prickled when you looked at it. It was dangerously ostentatious. Putting that on seemed a bad idea.

The ring next it was the opposite- it was a bronze band, nothing more, nothing less. Even the box it sat in was simple carved wood. Too simple. Too unassuming. Something as innocent-looking as that could only be dangerous in the hands of a Fae.

The three other rings were neither particularly ornate, nor terribly plain. One was a dark silver metal with an emerald set neatly in the center, one was a simple gold with several pearls arranged in a cluster, and the last one was nearly black, with rubies inset in the shape of a flower. You weren’t much of a jewelry expert, so you couldn’t tell how much any of them would be with monetarily. Not that it mattered much. The rings themselves weren’t as important as what they represented.

“These three,” you said, pushing away the two rings you’d rejected outright. “What of their worth makes them equal to my trade?”

The Fae leaned over the table, pushing the dark and emerald ring toward you. “This one comes from the deep woods. It ensures a long, fertile life. Near immortality, success with creative endeavors, an affinity toward plants.”

Your ears tingled at the ‘fertile’ bit. Hm. Fae tended to have a thing about the fertility of humans, and something about that was unsettling. You turned your gaze to the next ring. “This one?”

“Ah! This one is from a great sea, deep within its heart. The ocean will listen when you command. Water will be unable to harm you. Your command over it will be absolute, and the creatures within will understand your desires. A powerful gift, to have dominion over the seas.”

This one seemed… interesting. Though you’d never had much of a liking toward water. There was no fear there- you’d just never found it all that pleasant to be in. Your second concern was the power of the ring. Absolute command over the ocean? It didn’t seem like a commensurate trade for the engagement you offered, which meant there was something else going on. Too suspicious. You moved on to the final ring.

Sensing your attention shift, the Fae nudged the ring toward you. “This one is from the depths of the Earth. Fortune favors those who take it. You’ll find the odds tilt in your favor more often than not.”

Hm. Fortune wasn’t an uncommon Fae gift. Usually it was given to humans the Fae took a shine to, but sometimes a person could get it in a trade. The favor of fortune seemed like a safe enough gift, and one that was practically useful. All you needed was that little bit of extra luck to keep you safe from your parents deciding to betroth you to someone else.

Impulse and desire were dangerous things to have in the Fae Market, but you took the ring regardless. Instantly, the Fae snatched your ring from the table. Her mouth stretched into an enormous grin, and you were reminded of an eel or snake in the way her jaw stretched. “A favorable trade for both of us, I think. Place the ring on your finger and you will find your fortune substantially changed."

The way she said it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Just as you’d opened your mouth to speak, a gust of wind blasted you in the face. When you opened your stinging eyes once more, the Fae was gone.

The ring box rested heavily in your hand. It was closed once more, though you didn’t remember closing it. Perhaps it was magic, but it almost seemed to burn into your palm.

You turned back to the Fae Market. The cacophony that had faded into the background when you’d been trading as back in full, pounding against your eardrums. Glancing at the stalls stirred a longing in your chest. Technically, you still had something to trade. You could keep going, trying your luck to get something better, something powerful-

No. you shook your head to dislodge the thought. It was dangerous enough to trade for an item that you knew the value of. All you knew about this ring was that a Fae had been willing to trade it for yours. You had no guarantee about what the value would be to anyone else. It was an easy way to get scammed out of something, or to get your hands on something that would screw you over. With another deep breath to keep your head squarely on your shoulders, you left the market.

Your skin prickled with nerves as you walked the long path back to your home. The last time you had left, you had been furiously protesting the marriage. Your mother had promised that, on your return, you would be locked in your room to await your marriage. With the engagement sold, your parents would have no reason to do so. Regardless, you didn’t plan to stay for long. Just enough time to gather your belongings, find a horse or carriage, and seize some money to flee.

The house was warmly lit when you entered. Hurriedly, you shucked your boots and cloak. It was quiet, still. With any luck, you’d be able to avoid your parents entirely and-

“You’re back.” There was barely a sound as your mother appeared around the corner. She wore her usual scowl, lines set deep into her forehead.

“I am,” you said, keeping your voice light. “I went for a walk. To clear my head.”

There was something in the way your mother was looking at you that made you unsettled. Sure, she didn’t like it when you went out on your own, but she seemed… angrier than usual. The idea that she still remembered the engagement flitted across your mind again. You batted it away. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t, she couldn’t, she couldn-

A hand seized your upper arm. You tried to tug yourself away, but all you succeeded in doing was awkwardly wrenching yourself around in his grasp. Your father’s expression was just as hard-set as your mother’s, and he was holding on tight to you.

“What are you doing?” you asked. Panic made your voice shake as much as you tried to keep it steady. “I only went out for a walk! I don’t need-”

“I thought your return meant you had thought better of opposing the engagement. Apparently, I was wrong,” your mother said.

Engagement. Your head was spinning. Fuck. You had thought the engagement would be lost the instant you handed the ring over. It should have been! That was what you were trading!

Bewilderment and panic prevented you from fighting until you were nearly to your room, and by then, it was too little, too late. Your father tossed you in, sending you skidding across the wooden floor. Before you could even scramble back to your feet, the door banged shut. You threw yourself against it just in time to hear the heavy clunk of the lock sliding into place.

You slumped down the door. It would be logical to be crying, wailing, cursing everything that had led you to this point. But you couldn’t even manage tears. All you could do was breathe through the massive weight that pressed on your chest and think.

She had tricked you. That was the only explanation. Somehow, she had taken the ring and left the engagement intact. For what reason, you couldn’t say. Maybe she wanted a human-made ring, for whatever reason. Maybe she’d wanted to get rid of her wares quickly without needing to take on a mortal husband. Or maybe she had done it just to be a tricky asshole. The Fae were like that, sometimes. Incomprehensible to mortals and often straight-up dicks.

You shifted your attention to the ring box still in your hand. The same dark ring you’d traded for sat inside. Well, that was something. Maybe your fiancé would at least be annoyed you’d traded away his ring. You pulled it out of the little box and rotated it in your hand. It seemed to be the right size to fit you.

The ring was supposed to give you good fortune. You snorted. Right. Yeah. It seemed to be working well so far.

You rotated the ring back and forth, running your fingers along the smooth metal. Maybe you needed to be wearing it. That seemed to be how a lot of Fae goods operated. You could really use a bit of good luck right now. Then again, if you’d been tricked in the deal, you had no guarantee exactly what the ring did. Why trade a perfectly good Fae ring for just an ordinary human one unless there was something wrong with it?

She’d said it would cause good fortune. That, at least, must be true. The Fae couldn’t lie. Maybe it was one of those cursed objects that caused temporary good fortune and then brought bad luck in equal or greater measure. It was probably a bad idea to put it on. And yet, the temptation to just slip it on your finger was there.

All you needed was a tiny bit of good luck. Just something, enough to let you escape. Then you could throw the ring away and eat whatever bad luck came your way because of it. Once you were out, you could make your own luck. You just needed that one little spark to set things off.

With a deep breath, you slipped the ring on your finger.

Nothing changed. Not that you’d really been expecting a flash of light or a sudden shift. Fae gifts were usually more subtle than that. You gave another hurried glance around the room. There! Had that window been open a moment ago? You scrambled over to it and thrust it fully open. There was just enough space to wriggle out, though your room was on the second floor. There was a bit of a drop. Not enough to kill, by any means, but an awkward landing would certainly snap your ankle.

The ring’s fortune seemed to be holding so far. Maybe you would have a lucky landing. You braced yourself against the window, then climbed mostly out of it. For a moment, you sat on the edge of the sill. You took the time to brace yourself, then pushed off from the window.

Your stomach lurched up into your throat as you fell. Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut and tensed for impact.

It didn’t come. At least, not the jarring sensation of hitting the ground feet-first. Instead, you landed in something softer, warm, and immediately recognizable. Someone had caught you in their arms.

Your eyes flew open, but you didn’t register the features of the person holding you. All you registered was that you’d been found out, you’d been caught, you needed to get away.

The arms released you. You half-fell onto the ground, your knees immediately buckling. Disoriented by both the fall and the unexpected intrusion of another person, you scrambled back toward the house. Once you were a small distance away, you were able to get a look at the person who had caught you.

You sort of wished it was one of the people who worked for your parents. You almost wished it had been your parents.

The person standing in front of you was not human.

He looked Fae, in that there was an odd ethereal quality to his presence. There was no actual mist, but you felt like he should have been shrouded in it. His robes, a pale silver, swirled around him in an absent breeze. He stood at least three inches taller thanks to his heeled boots. Bangles and bracelets dangled from his wrists.

Not just from two wrists. From his four wrists. He had four arms, one set in the normal position, the second set slightly below. His fingers were capped with claws, their color fading from the deep purple-gray of his skin to a charcoal black. A long, thin tail swayed casually behind him. From just above his eyebrows curved a ridged set of horns. They branched only an inch or so from where they sprouted, one line growing straight back and the other curving forward into a near-circle.

His eyes were striking. Even from more than a couple feet away, you could tell they were a brilliant ruby red. Looking at them was like staring at molten rock, dangerous but mesmerizing.

He cocked his head, twining a strand of his long black hair around his finger. “Quite a poor greeting for your fiancé, isn’t it?” His voice was softer than you’d expected, almost whispery. It made the back of your neck tingle.

“My fiancé?” you repeated, clambering to your feet.

“You made a trade.” the Fae said. His lower set of arms folded over his chest while the upper set made a shrugging gesture. “One ring for another. One fiancé for another.”

Your stomach sank to somewhere around your knees. Fuck. You were a complete idiot. A fair trade. You hadn’t traded a normal ring with a husband attached to get a magic ring. You’d traded your mortal engagement for a Fae one. A perfectly even trade.

As if to punctuate your mood, the thickly clouded sky opened up and rain fell in icy sheets.

“We should get inside,” he said, completely unperturbed. One of his lower hands extended toward you. “I am looking forward to meeting my inlaws.”

You were too stupefied to resist. His lower hand curled around your fingers, his upper hand resting on your shoulder. You could feel his claws resting delicately on your skin.

The Fae marched you around to the front of the house. The door swung open ahead of you and he stepped into the entranceway. “We’ll need towels,” he said, vaguely addressing one of the nearby servants. She dropped her unblinking gaze and hurried off toward the laundry room. Another one headed out in the opposite direction, presumably to fetch your parents.

“Hopefully you don’t catch your death of cold,” he said, his lips lifting into a sharp smile. “I would hate for my future spouse to leave me so soon.”

You glared back. “What do you want?”

“Want?” He tilted his head, his smile shrinking a little. “I wish to meet my intended, of course, and your lovely family.”

The idea of your parents being ‘lovely’ made you snort. “Yes, I’m sure a Fae has nothing better to do than galivanting around, snatching up unsuspecting mortals into marriage.”

He gave you a strange look, eyes narrowing, but the servant returned with the towels before he could say anything else. He took one and ran it over his head, somehow managing to navigate his horns with complete ease.

You’d just managed to get dry enough to stop dripping when your parents hurried into the hall. For half a second, you thought they would be surprised or confused by the inhuman presence next to you. But your mother immediately began gushing and your father stepped forward, hand extended for a shake. The Fae returned it with one of his upper arms, his lower ones folding close to his chest again. Fae magic. Whether he looked like a human to them or if the magic simply made engagement to a Fae seem normal, you weren’t sure, but you could expect no help from your parents.

So, same as normal, really.

“It’s really a pleasure to meet you in person,” your mother gushed. Her gaze fell on you and you could see the question form in her eyes. “I see you’ve already met our child.”

“Ah, yes. My future spouse seemed incredibly eager to meet me. I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He gave you a toothy smile. You forced yourself to return it. “But I’m afraid we’re thoroughly soaked. Might we freshen up before dinner?”

Your mother was still frowning suspiciously at you, but as long as your future husband was there, she wasn’t going to scold you. Small mercies. “Well, certainly. We have a guest room set aside, and I’m certain the servants can bring you something to change into-”

“Oh, come now. I’ll be married to this darling in a matter of days,” he said, gesturing to you. “Surely it matters little if we change in the same room. I am so looking forward to getting to know my fiancé. I’ve heard so many delightful things.”

Judging by the looks on your parents’ faces, they weren’t pleased. But they were also desperate to not offend your fiancé, and, after a moment of struggle, they caved. “Certainly,” your mother said. “I’m sure you can find your way there on your own.” The look she gave you indicated that if anything happened in that room, you would suffer for it.

The Fae hummed infuriatingly as he followed you to your room. He seemed to be having the time of his life. Even your agitation served only to amuse him further.

As soon as the door to your room was shut and bolted, you rounded on him. “Who are you?”

He placed one of his upper hands on his chest, his lower hands spread in a supplicating gesture. “Why, dear, I’m your fiancé! Your family recognized me just fine. Am I to understand that you don’t know me?”

“Cut the shit,” you hissed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He shrugged his lower shoulders as his upper hands busied themselves with undoing his clothes. “Perhaps.”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose. A headache was starting to throb at your temples. “You’re my fiancé,” you confirmed.

“As you are mine,” he said. “As I understand it, you traded one for another.” He grinned. “Quite an improvement, I think.”

“I was trying to escape an involuntary marriage, not find a new one!” you snarled. The Fae looked thoroughly unintimidated.

“The ring was a contract,” he said. “As soon as you put it on, we were bound to marry.”

You snatched the ring off your finger and tossed it at him. It bounced off his chest and rolled away. “Then I give it back! I don’t want this!”

For the first time, amusement completely vanished from his expression. You felt a sense of vicious satisfaction. “The contract was made as soon as you donned the ring,” he said. His tone was icy. “It cannot be rescinded.”

You ground your teeth. “Engagements can be broken.”

He gave a superior sniff. “Human engagements, perhaps. But Fae have ways of making things far more binding.” He turned and plucked the ring from the floor. “Removing the ring will not break our contract. Once you placed the ring on your finger, you were bound to marry me, as I was bound to marry you.” He took your hand and slipped the ring onto your left ring finger. His fingers were oddly warm around yours.

Perhaps the stress of the day was catching up to you, because you felt abruptly dizzy. Paying no mind to your still-soaked clothes, you collapsed on your bed. Your fiancé watched you, his tail swaying back and forth in a wide arc behind him. “Engagement between Fae are contracts,” he said, and his tone was incrementally softer. “Once it has been entered, there is no way for the participants to break it. The only solution is marriage.”

“What’s stopping me from leaving? Or just refusing to marry?” you asked. Your tone was belligerent, but you could feel your resolve faltering. There was no way it was that easy.

He gave a shrug, removing the last of his outer clothes and beginning to strip his undergarments. “I cannot assume my full title until I marry, and when you donned the ring, you tied yourself to me. I will be able to find you if you run, track you to the ends of the Earth, if I must. Neither of us are free to continue our lives until we marry.”

You licked your lips. “So, either I marry you or I spend the rest of my life being pursued by an angry Fae.”

He lifted a brow. “Be grateful. There are many Fae who would be more than willing to place you in captivity and starve you until you agreed to marry them or died.”

“So instead of killing me, you’re just going to trap me in a marriage I don’t want? Wow, you are generous,” you said, making your voice as sarcastic as possible. He gave you an unimpressed look.

“This marriage is a business arrangement,” he said. “We will be expected to work together. You will be expected to live with me, in the land of the Fair Folk. But I am not cruel, and I can make some… concessions to our arrangement. I do not expect monogamy, nor do I expect, for the most part, any physical components to our relationship. With certain exceptions, you will be able to spend your time mostly as you wish. I can provide riches and comforts for you. It will benefit you, and all I ask in return is your cooperation in certain… deals.”

You lifted your eyebrows. “Elaborate.”

“Business dealings, when working with those who cannot lie, can be difficult. I have little experience detecting lies, nor do I have a way to respond in kind. Having a mortal partner makes this… easier.”

You parsed that. “You want to marry a mortal so I can lie for you.”

His lips pressed together. “That is an oversimplification. There are other things mortals can be useful for. But yes, lying will be your primary duty.” He gave a vicious grin. “I expect you’ll not have much of a problem with that?”

You ignored his barb. “Why do I need to marry you, then? Can’t you just employ a mortal? It seems like it would be a lot easier.”

“Marriage is the oldest of contracts, and one of the deepest. It’s not just business. We tie our very lives together. It lessens the chances of you betraying me. A contract could be wriggled out of. Marriage is harder.”

“We’ll be married for business reasons, then.” Well, that wasn’t terribly different from the marriage you’d been trying to escape.

“As I said, I’m willing to be very lenient with the, mm, emotional aspects of our marriage,” he said. “There will be minimal obligations for physical romance, and none for emotional. As long as your loyalty remains primarily to me, you are free to pursue any other partners you wish. I shan’t stop you.”

“Minimal physical obligations?” you repeated. His nose wrinkled a little.

“It is likely we will be expected to produce a child at some point. And you’ll be expected to lie about the consummation of our marriage. But, as I said, I have no interest in forcing you to be with me. Only provide the proper business arrangements and I will be satisfied.”

You considered that. It was not, strictly speaking, a good deal. But it was better than the one you were escaping. No doubt that your prior spouse would have had as many dalliances as he pleased while insisting that you remain loyal to him alone. And you’d likely have been confined to the house and whatever tasks he wanted you to perform. This was at least an improvement.

“Fine,” you said. “I don’t have much of a choice, I suppose.”

“There’s always a choice,” the Fae hummed. “It’s just that some choices have more severe consequences than others.”

He slipped his underclothes off. Despite yourself, you stared. His four arms let to four well-defined pecs, and his toned stomach, while not exactly rippling with muscles, certainly wasn’t bad to look at. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t comment.

In an effort to clear your mind, you turned away and started changing yourself. “Am I going to have the pleasure of knowing my future husband’s name?”

You could hear his smile as he spoke. “I’m not that foolish. I know far better than to hand out my name to unsuspecting mortals. You may not have my true name. But, if you wish, you can call me Pelatio.”

He didn’t ask for your name in return. You assumed he already knew it. Keeping your back to him, you changed into your dry clothes.

Dinner was a strange affair. It was hardly quiet- both your parents talked animatedly with Pelatio, and he talked back, joking and smiling with ease. But it was all strangely empty. Pelatio spoke about business and land ownership vaguely enough that it sounded like he was talking about human affairs, and your parents deftly spoke about their pleasure at the prospect of marriage, making it sound like they were thrilled their child was going to be happy rather than just glad they’d made a fortuitous business arrangement. It was like watching a carefully constructed dance, where both parties remained within arm’s reach of the truth, but never close enough to touch.

Perhaps, you reflected as you plowed through your third glass of wine, you didn’t only need to be a Fae to get good at deceptive truth-telling. Maybe it was a trait of all upper-class assholes.

Unfortunately, your habit of getting wildly drunk in your youth meant that the wine at dinner wasn’t strong enough to make you anything more than mildly tipsy. Dizzy and disgruntled, you collapsed into bed as soon as you were close enough, and fell asleep without even changing your clothes.

The sunlight woke you, and you became almost immediately aware of a very annoying humming. Blinking against the burning rays, your gaze focused on Pelatio. He was flipping through an old, ratty notebook, humming to himself and wearing the most self-satisfied grin you’d ever seen.

“Glad you’re awake,” he said without so much at glancing as your face to confirm. “I’ve been reading this rather interesting tome I found in your desk drawer. Though, I would like to know how much of this is genuine. Did you truly drink a pint of liquor, then strip to your underclothes in front of the entire harvest festival?”

You scrambled to your feet. “Give that back.”

He handed it over with a smug expression, which you could only assume meant he’d read all of it already. “I merely wanted to know more about you, since you’re so delightfully withholding.”

“You could have asked,” you snapped.

“Mortals lie,” he said simply. “It’s a bit of an advantage you have over me. At least if I answer a question, you are guaranteed the truth.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’ll tell me the truth.”

“I can tell you nothing else,” he said. You gave him an irritated look as you tucked the diary back into your desk.

“Then tell me about yourself,” you said. “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

His lips pulled back from his teeth in something between a smile and a sneer. “Get changed. We depart in two hours.” With that, he turned to head out of the room.

“You said you would tell the truth!” you called after him.

“I said if I answered,” Pelatio called over his shoulder. “I elected not to.”

That gave you enough material to cuss him out on the entire time you were getting changed. And it wasn’t a short process.

You couldn’t exactly say you were sad to be leaving your house, even if you were heading to a magical land of unknown dangers. Your mother fussed performatively, making sure that you were wearing a sufficiently warm cloak and all the rest. The sharp squeezes on your shoulder needed to verbal translation- don’t fuck this up. If only she was aware exactly how intensely you’d already fucked everything up.

Your future husband watched with no small amount of amusement as you detached yourself from your parents and walked over to him. “How terribly sweet. Are you certain you don’t want to spend more time with them?”

“Shut up,” you snapped through your teeth. He lifted a brow, but turned on his heel and gestured toward the great, dark carriage that had arrived moments ago.

It was clearly a Faerie carriage, from the strange, overly-elongated horses that pulled it to the fact that the inside was illuminated with no clear source of light. Neither of your parents seemed to care, if they could see it. They just waved you off, expressions cheery. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but there seemed to be more than a tinge of relief in their expressions.

The carriage door slammed shut once you and your fiancé were inside. With a rap on the wall, he started the carriage moving at a steady pace.

“Not sad to see them go?” he asked. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Not sad to see the people who sold me off like a piece of meat for the last time? What do you think?” Despite your brash tone, your voice gave the tiniest of quivers. Dammit. You shouldn't be sad- you’d spent most of your life trying to get away from them. And yet, your eyes felt hot and there was a strangling lump in your chest.

Pelatio looked at you for a moment, toying with the end of his sleeves. Finally, he reached into his pocket and thrust a handkerchief at you. “Here. I’ll hardly be pleased if you start getting tears on the upholstery.”

“I’m not going to cry,” you said, but you took the cloth anyway.

“If you say so.” He shrugged with both shoulders, then turned to gaze at the wall. You occupied yourself by absently folding the handkerchief into various shapes and trying not to think about anything at all.

The trip felt like it took hours and only a few minutes at the same time. It gave you the sensation of falling asleep and waking up knowing that hours had passed, but feeling like it had been no time at all. The disorienting feeling only got worse when Pelatio opened the door and helped you out.

The terrain was rocky, with only sparse bits of plant life jutting out from the ground. Not that you could see much of it. A mist so thick it was nearly a solid covered the land. Though it was only a short distance away, the manor was little more than a silhouette against the milky sky. You could see a few towers stretching up into the sky. The ground in front of the manor was split in a chasm that circled the entire location. Only a stone bridge allowed passage across the canyon.

“Take care not to go wandering without a guide,” Pelatio said as he strode toward his home. “It’s quite easy to get turned around here.”

Obviously, you thought, but you didn’t say it out loud. You merely followed him, taking in as much of the landscape as you could. There wasn’t really much to see. It was just an endless expanse of stone ground and white sky.

Up close, the manor appeared to be made out of obsidian. Pure black and almost frictionless to the touch, you felt reluctantly awed by it. At the very least, you would be living somewhere nice.

The front hall was dim, illuminated only by small red and yellow lights that floated around the ceiling. Pelatio shed his coat and tossed it aside. It was lifted away but some invisible force before it could touch the ground.

“Infuego!” Pelatio’s voice echoed down the great hall. The lights around the ceiling swirled in a tornado before disgorging a spurt of flame. It coiled to the ground in front of you, flickering and twisting until it formed a roughly-humanoid shape. There were no clear eyes in its face, but you got the sense it was looking at you. Pelatio waved his hand at it. “Now, now. Mortal-safe form, please.”

The fire flickered, like a guttering candle flame, then extinguished. Underneath the flames, they looked like a roughly normal human, to an extent. No extra arms or tail or strangely-shaped limbs. But their skin was strangely reflective, catching the light like a gemstone. Their hair was a mix of reds, yellows, and oranges, falling down their back in thick waves. It was their eyes that were the least human, because they had none. Their sockets were instead filled with flickering flames.

“Take my dear spouse up to the northeast wing. I assume everything’s prepared?” Infuego dipped their head in a tiny nod. “Wonderful. Go on.” He flapped all four of his hands at you in a dismissive gesture.

“Where are you going?” you asked. Despite not being particularly interested in spending time with him, you were still kind of insulted that he was ditching you the first instant he could.

“Wherever,” he said. “Lots to take care of, I’m certain. Don’t trouble yourself with it.” With no further elaboration, he strode through a doorway to your left and vanished.

“Come.” Infuego’s voice was quieter than you expected, and slightly raspy. “I will take you to your room.”

You followed them in silence, up a winding staircase and past halls with far too many portraits- most of them seemed to be of Pelatio or his family. You took pause at one in particular. It seemed to be of his family, his father and mother standing behind several children. Only one had the same crimson eyes as he did, though that was the only way you could recognize him. The wide, excited smile he had was a far cry from the sneering smirks that you’d seen on his face since you’d met him. Something in your chest gave the tiniest of pangs. Somehow, it was hard to imagine any Fae as a child, but clearly, he had been. Chubby-cheeked and cheerful. How strange.

Infuego led you to a large set of double doors. “This marks your portion of the house,” they said. “Only those who work and live here will be able to enter without your permission.” They pushed the doors open, then stepped back and gestured for you to enter.

You had expected your own room at best, but this was nearly large enough to be a full house. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, some sort of office, a wonderfully large bathroom, and some sort of enclosed porch. “The master left the area mostly undecorated,” Infuego said, nodding toward the bare patches of the walls and shelves. “If you wish for anything to be brought to you, write it on that chalkboard and it will be provided.” They gestured to a blackboard set into the wall.

“Thank you,” you said, uncertain of what else to say. You glanced around your room, your gaze eventually falling on a gauzy white outfit that hung from your wardrobe. Clusters of pale flowers clung to the shoulders and fell down the back to make a lacy, train-like cape. Most of it was partially see-through, with only solid white straps protecting your modesty.

“Your wedding clothes,” Infuego said. “Try it on before bed tonight. Any adjustments will need to be made before the ceremony tomorrow.”

You started. “Tomorrow?” Infuego nodded. “Huh. Short engagement.”

“The master is not interested in being engaged. Only married. The ceremony will be short and simple, more for show than anything.”

“I though all Faeries appreciated a big party,” you said. Infuego shrugged.

“I have served the master for some time. As greatly as he may love extravagance, I believe he wants to get this particular ceremony over as quickly as possible.”

“What’s he so irritated about? He’s the one who wanted this wedding,” you said. Infuego looked at you. The swirling flames they had for eyes made it hard to read their expression, but you thought you detected pity.

“I appreciate your situation. You came to this marriage unwillingly, and anger at the master is understandable. But he has limited power in this situation as well. He is the youngest of his family, and in order to retain even a shred of the power his family holds, he must marry that which his parents demand. And they have requested he marry a mortal.”

The tiniest pang of pity swelled in your chest. For a moment, you saw that he was trapped, just as trapped as you were, forced by his parents into a marriage he didn’t want.

“He is not cruel. He will allow you a great deal of freedom. He does not want to trap you any more than he is trapped himself.” Infuego swept into a low bow. “Try on the clothes. I will wake and prepare you for the ceremony tomorrow.” They turned on their heel and strode out, the great doors swinging shut behind them.

You turned back to the clothes. There was still a tight twist of anger in your chest, but beneath it, you felt the tiniest stirrings of sorrow. Trapped as pawns of your parents, both of you. With a sigh, you gathered the outfit into your arms. There was nothing else to do. You would play along, and so would he, and within twenty-four hours, you would be wed.

Link to the second part of the story is here.

#exophilia writing #Faerie #fae boyfriend #fae lover #monster boyfriend #monster lover #male monster #enemies to lovers #monster X human #fae

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collecting-stories · 3 years ago

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Not in Chronological Order ch. 1 - All Your Exes

setting: Sunday mass on Staten Island // Carisi family home

summary: Reader and Sonny have been together for eight months but while they are at church with his family on Sunday, the reader gets jealous over an ex of Sonny's that comes over to chat him up.

A/N: Based on the concept of the album, the chapters in this series will be snapshots of the reader and Sonny's relationship not following chronological order. So, this first fic is eight months into their relationship. All of this is set during the period when he is transitioning into being a lawyer so in some of the chapters he is still at SVU and in others he's working for the DA.

<- Not in Chronological Order Masterlist | Love Is Weird ->

...divider by @saradika

Despite your surface attempt to follow Gina's conversation about Little League baseball, your focus was on your boyfriend (partner) of eight months and the woman currently dominating his attention. You would not, in any world, categorize yourself as jealous. You had no problem with Sonny's friendship with Amanda; you thought she was great and admired their close friendship. This woman though, this 'laughing at every other word' ex-whatever, had you two seconds away from losing your cool in the middle of St. Kevin's.

You knew it shouldn't bother you. Sonny hadn't been in a serious relationship for a long time before you started dating, and even if he had, it hadn't been with this woman. She was just some casual one-time coffee date during a lunch hour set up by his mom who knew her mom. It was so unserious that her stopping him on the way out of the church to say hello shouldn't have mattered to you at all. But it did.

She had clocked him the moment he walked into St. Kevin's, openly waving from a few pews up where she sat with her family. Sonny, sweet, well-mannered, polite, Sonny, raised his hand in greeting. You awkwardly looked away as if you didn't notice the interaction at all and distracted yourself with the stained glass stations of the cross. When mass came, she smiled Sonny's way as he walked up the aisle and now, while you lingered by the door with Gina, this one-date-ex was running through some story about Sonny's mom two Sundays ago when he had work and couldn't make the service. It was childish but all you wanted to do was glare this woman down until she crawled out of the church and never showed her face again. A little more than territorial but you couldn't help it. Being with Sonny felt like you had unlocked some great secret that the universe was trying to keep hidden and you didn't want anyone else to discover what absolute treasure you had in your possession (not that he belonged to you just that he had chosen to be yours and should there come a time when he chose not to be yours you would probably never recover).

"-ya know how my ma can be," Sonny laughed, voice carrying over the short distance to where you still hovered with his sister. When you turned your face enough that neither Sonny nor the woman talking to him could see you roll your eyes you found Gina grinning ear to ear.

"What?" You whispered, frowning back.

"You look like Matteo whenever I tell him he can't do something," she teased.

"I do not," you only drew her point home when you crossed your arms under your chest and turned back to look at Sonny. Still talking. And the insufferable single-date was putting her hand on his arm while she laughed like the main character in a rom-com and you were starting to sound exactly like you used to in 8th grade when your entire personality had been 'pick me girl'.

"Are you coming or what, Sonny?" Gina called, breaking the conversation that she knew her brother was too polite to get himself out of. "Dinner's at five. If we leave now we might make it."

Sonny rolled his eyes at her prodding. The church was close enough to his childhood home that they could walk and it was hardly one in the afternoon. But he knew he'd been talking to long if the annoyed look on your face was anything to go on. Besides, he'd been trying to remove himself from the conversation for the last twenty minutes, unsuccessfully.

Saying a quick goodbye, he walked over to join you and his sister, grabbing your hand when you offered it and squeezing gently. "You ready?"

You hummed and nodded in reply. You were ready to be as far away from here as possible. As Sonny led you out of the church you fought the urge to turn and glare at the woman he'd been talking to. Or, maybe more accurately, to turn and stick your tongue out like the immature child you were being.

The fact that you were being this childish and moody in front of his sister, at his family's parish, threatened to ruin your seething entirely. Maybe that was ironic in itself but four months ago, when he'd brought you to church here for the first time to meet his parents and do the whole 'Carisi Family Sunday' you had been mortified of anything less than your best behavior. Now you were imagining yourself going at it in the parking lot with some woman in Manolo Blahnik's like you were in elementary school.

"-what about next weekend?" Gina was saying as you zoned back in, the Carisi family house coming into view up ahead. Sonny's sister had been trying to pin down a time to visit him lunch now that he was 'a hot-shot attorney' but their schedules never matched up. Well, she was unwilling to cancel pilates, her weekly spa treatments, or any dinner date with her current fiancé that might allow her a gap in her schedule and Sonny ate, slept, and breathed the DA's office lately.

"We're free Saturday, right? You have off?" He asked, looking over at you as if you'd been part of the conversation the whole time and not spacing out.

"Yeah," you nodded, "but I mean, I don't have to come to lunch with you guys. You don't have to schedule around me-"

"Are you kidding? I'd much rather schedule him out!" Gina teased.

You missed Sonny's retort as he laughed and suddenly you were thinking of dinner at Amanda's last week when he brought up an ex he had during his police academy training. In all honesty, you'd been driving yourself crazy since that dinner, thinking about ex-partners that got little glimpses into something that felt wholly intimate and yours. It was stupid to be this bothered and Sonny would probably say exactly that if he knew why you'd gone silent again but you couldn't help yourself. It was like being sucked into a spiral.

How many other women had he brought him for dinners and church? How many other women had been in his apartment, on his couch, in his bed? How many other women had he cooked for? Bought coffee for? Talked about moving in with?

Before you realized what was happening, you were walking up the sidewalk to the front door and being tugged back. There was Sonny, standing like a statue behind you, unmoving. You knew the expression on his face, it was the one he always got when he realized you were holding something in. "Hey, what's the matter?" His voice was soft and comforting and you thought again about how you'd managed to keep this man for eight months and if you got a million more it wouldn't be enough.

"Nothing," you lied before you could stop yourself, adding an unconvincing, "I'm fine" at the end.

"Nah, come on, I'm not going in the house with you until you tell me what's going on?" He replied.

"Sonny," you groaned but you knew he wasn't lying. Knew he would die out here on his parent's front walk before he let you go inside upset. Confrontation was not something you had grown up with. He had, though not in a healthy way, as he had told you more times than you could count. The Carisi's thought problem solving needed to involve yelling while your family had adopted the belief that if the problem wasn't voiced it didn't exist. You could let a problem marinate for years before it boiled over. Both of you had been trying to work through the inherited bad habits to find some middle ground where you confronted the problem but it wasn't a fight. Sonny was better at it than you were.

"Come on, it's just us."

You sighed; you could do this. You could voice this. "I was just, annoyed, with that girl...woman that came over to talk to you." Girl wasn't the right term and making her seem younger by calling her that only added to your childish behavior.

"Angie?"

You rolled your eyes at the sound of her name and Sonny tried not to smile. He failed, of course, but he tried. "I told ya, we went on like one date...didn't amount ta anything. It's not something to be jealous about."

"I'm not jealous," you stressed. Murderous, maybe. And yeah, very jealous.

"Ya seem a little bent outta shape over it," he pointed out, as if prodding the issue would help you feel better.

"It's not just her. I was upset when we were at Amanda's and you mentioned that ex-girlfriend who made good cheesecake and then that neighbor that you said looks like your ex from high school-"

"You've been upset since Amanda's?" He asked, a little less surprised than you would've wanted.

"I just don't like when you talk about your exes. And rational me totally gets that Angie is probably a nice woman but irrational me, who is, yes, a little jealous, just kind of...spiraled."

"They're exes though, means I'm not interested in 'em anymore."

"Thanks for explaining that concept to me Dominick," you bit out before you could reel yourself in. Sonny only smiled.

"I'm sorry that it bothered you, I didn't realize you were upset," Sonny finally said. He placed his hands on your upper arms, fingers brushing up under the short sleeves of your top, "I mean, I knew you were upset about something but I didn't realize I caused it."

"No it wasn't you, it's just a me thing. I don't know...I've never like...I've never been with someone I cared about this much. That like, just knowing how incredible you are and I don't wanna sound crazy or something but like, if it wasn't me anymore...if you weren't interested in me, if you didn't see this going somewhere, I just think-"

"Hey," Sonny drew your eyes back to meet his, leaning in and placing a kiss on your forehead before properly kissing you on the lips. When you tasted salt against your mouth you realized you'd made yourself cry. "I've got no plans to go anywhere. I'm not interested in anyone but you, ever, for the rest of my life."

"That is a very serious claim Dominick."

He smiled as if implying a lifetime commitment was the easiest thing he'd ever done, "I love you, ya know that right?" He asked.

"You're the love of my life," you smiled as his cheeks tinged pink.

The front door of his parents' house clattered open, the screen creaking, and his mom's voice called out for the two of you to get inside out of the cold. She looked like she was calling misbehaving children in for supper and Sonny bowed his head the same way you were sure he probably had as a kid when he heard that voice shouting for him.

"Come on," you tugged on his hand, dragging him toward the house. When you looked back over your shoulder at him though, he still had that same loved-up look in his eyes that he always got, as if he couldn't believe you returned his feelings.

#sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi fanfic #sonny carisi imagine #dominick sonny carisi imagine #dominick carisi imagine #dominick carisi fanfiction #dominick carisi x reader #sonny carisi x y/n #sonny carisi x you #dominick carisi x you #dominick carisi x y/n #SVU fanfiction #svu fanfic #svu fic #svu imagine #Law and Order: SVU Fanfiction #law and order: svu imagine #law and order: svu fanfic #collecting stories imagine

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ill-heart · 2 years ago

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Kisses and Powder (Jalim Westworld AU - Part 1)

So... It was supposed to be a stand alone but my plans were... Violently crushed under the hype. Sorry.

The fiction is based of the show Westworld; which I love with all of my heart. But do not worry, you won’t be lost if you don’t watch it. I’m writing my own story with a magnificent concept.

Enjoy!

Summary: As Salim explored the surroundings of Sweetwater, his path met Jason’s one. And neither of them could have suspected feelings would grow, in a world were everything opposed them.

Pairing: Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman

Others pairings mentionned: Nick Kay/Rachel King

Words: ~4K

Chapters: 1/?

Warnings: Mentions of violence

When Salim’s eyes laid on the scenery in front of him, his heart skipped a beat.

The sun licked the old and wooden rooftops as the wind pushed the dust and the petticoat of the women out of the floor. The smell embracing the town was indefinable for Salim; it was as familiar as it was uncanny for his soul.

He closed his eyes and swore that, for an instant, his village stood there with its houses made of rocks and its yellow plants. The Iraqi was back home, watching his garden growing shyly as sun kissed the streets. He felt his son at his side, curiously eyeing at the vegetables before he looked at him and drowned him under millions of questions.

When he opened his eyelids again, Salim found himself in the park once more. Horses and men were growling, women were walking and he, like and child who stared at a candy store, remained paralyzed and muted by the beauty encircling him.

“It is…” He tried to put some words on his thoughts, but none of it seemed accurate enough to describe the miracle which was happening right now.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Dar’s amused voice get a chill out of him. “And it is only the beginning of the park.”

“It seems so…” Salim looked around them, eyes shining with an endless admiration.

“Real?” His friend finished with a grin spreading his lips wider. “And you haven’t even interacted with the hosts yet.”

Dar put an arm around the other man’s shoulders then pointed an especially beautiful girl standing in front of the saloon with his chin.

An incredible blonde river which composed her hair and profound dark pupils stood out from the rest. She was wearing an indescribable dress, as red as a wonderful rose, which rode up her breasts and showed the elegance of her long and fine legs. Unlike her friends, who fluttered eyelashes to the newcomers on the street, her skin wasn’t covered by velvet and black stocking; every bit of flesh exposed to everyone’s dirty look. Salim watched her as a woman, dressed like a cowgirl, approached and grabbed the blonde by the waist. Salim knew, before anything was said, that the blonde work here wasn’t to serve cocktail; she was serving her own body to the ones who crossed her path.

Dar giggled a little against Salim’s ears as he added, with his deep and raspy tone: “They are as magnificent as the setting you see.”

“Don’t tell me you brought me here just to get laid, Dar.” The younger man snarled back while he pushed his friend’s arm away. “I told you I wasn’t interesting in…”

The other one cut his words by taking his wrist and forcing him to follow his path between the newcomers and the hosts. “Don’t refuse the fruit before you even taste it, Salim.” He smiled softly as he drew themselves closer to the saloon. “This place… This place will change your way of seeing the world. Trust me.”

If you say so, Salim distrustfully rolled his eyes but kept the words buried deep down in his throat.

This place, as incredible as it was, could never change him.

Never.

۩๑ ๑۩

When Dar invited him to come in Westworld for their holidays, he didn’t know what to think nor what to answer.

Of course, he heard many things about the park and its hosts, about those androids who looked and felt like real human beings. A lot of Salim’s co-workers came here before, just like Dar who was used to take his wife and friends with him when he wanted to have “fun”.

Well, he thought while the older man passionately kissed a… lady of the night at his side, I wonder if he does the same things when his wife tags along. He shrugged his shoulders as he reminded himself that he never met the woman and that she may enjoyed sharing her husband with the delicious creatures living in town, a small hamlet called Sweetwater.

Salim shook the picture out of his mind with a nervous grin, he didn’t followed Dar in this place to learn more about his privacy. What his wife and he liked to practice in their bedroom was none of his business. Definitively none of my business, he repeated as his eyes ran on the different figures drinking and playing games in the saloon.

Dar told him he could tell which one was a host and which one was not, but to the younger man it didn’t seems so obvious. Everyone and everything felt… Real. The bartender, the girls embracing nameless bodies, the boys playing some card games; everyone felt real.

He sighed then took a few seconds to look at himself. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure his outfit matched his hat. Oh, sure, he looked like a cowboy with his blue shirt and trousers, his brown jacket and boots, and his beige hat, but did everything look good on him? He tentatively groaned then stared at the colt hanging at his belt.

He hoped nothing here would make him use it.

But isn’t it the purpose, Salim? Another sigh escaped his lips as he crossed his arms on his chest and eyed his friend pushing the prostitute against the counter to kiss her better. Isn’t it the reason of your presence here? To kill and fuck the hosts because you are allowed to do so?

Suddenly, an uneasy feeling bit his guts and made him sick. He didn’t teach his son patience and respect to throw his principles away in a park. He didn’t survive the war and his atrocities to reproduce it years after. He didn’t…

“Are you planning on brooding during all of our vacations, Salim?” He shivered as Dar put his arm around him once more. “I didn’t take you out of the office for this, do you understand?”

Salim growled in response and his friend vigorously laughed before he slapped his back, teasing dancing in his glare. “Give this place a chance, Salim. I am sure you will find something or someone worth of your time.”

I am not looking for someone, not in here. He bit his lips, prevented the words for ever escaping him; arguing with Dar wasn’t part of his plan. The man tried everything he could to help his subordinate forget about his ex-wife. Salim thanked him for all his efforts, of course, but he didn’t want any of this.

“I am…” He coughed sadly then pushed his friend to the lady he was hungerly embracing before. “Don’t you make the lady wait for you; I will take a look around. I am kind of curious to see the rest of the village.”

“Don’t get to far, the more you get away from the town…”

“The more it gets dangerous.” Salim completed while rolling his eyes. He must have looked like a child reciting the lesson his parents taught him a countless time. “I know, Dar. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I am not.” The older man added with a devilish grin. “I know you can break one’s neck in a blink of an eye.” He winked at Salim behind his hat then gestured toward the entrance. “I just don’t want to miss the fun, so wait for me if you want things to get dirty.”

Salim giggled in return. “I promise. See you later, Dar.”

He greeted the woman at his friend’s side before he headed out for the door. The wind gently slapped his cheeks as the sun blinded him for one second; maybe he would find some peace outside.

۩๑ ๑۩

The area around the town offered Salim a vast and marvelous setting, with plants and animals he never saw before. He looked at the cactus and the trees with admiration, touched the leaves and the rocks with curiosity; if he didn’t know he was on a ground designed by humans and built by machines, he would have never thought everything was fake.

Well, fake… His glare found the horse he bought in town, a magnificent isabelline with a splendid mane and expressive eyes, I can’t believe you aren’t real.

He drew himself closer to his mount and ran his fingers against his coat. It was soft upon his skin, and Salim couldn’t help but to smile as he faced the mare. “You are wonderful, you know that don’t you?” He caressed her forehead with an incredible delicacy, like it was the most precious creature on the world.

Suddenly, something cold pressed on the back of his neck. Salim opened his eyes wide as he recognized the shape and the texture; the barrel of a gun.

A menacing voice slid against his ears. “Ya should be more careful out here, stranger. It ain’t like the city ‘round here.”

Salim’s heartbeat fastened but he quickly recovered his calm; years in the army taught him to keep his composure, even if someone directly pointed a weapon at him. “Indeed, it seems so.” He finally whispered as he tried to turn his head, in hope his eyes could take a glimpse at his attacker.

The man let out a deep and displeased growl as he pressed the barrel against the flesh. “Try to play smart with me and I’ put a fuckin’ bullet in yar head. ‘Get that?”

The Iraqi answered with a slow nod, as he heard footsteps behind him. Whatever was going on right now, his assailant came with reinforcements; a statement corroborated by an inquiring female’s voice: “Shouldn’t we kill him and take his money? I mean, ‘t be easier.”

“Na”, topped the man while one of his friends tied Salim’s hands, “see his outfit? This folk ain’t from here, ‘m sure someone will pay us a fortune to have him back.”

No one will, cowboy. The victim said in his own mind.

And before he could react further, the leader of the attack turned him around and fiercely glared at him. “Like I said, one fuckin’ strange blink of an eye and yer dead.”

As he was pushed deeper into the valley by men he didn’t know, Salim thought that one God definitely hated him.

۩๑ ๑۩

Quickly after his capture, the man who seemed the leader put a blindfold on him. Then, he was put on a horseback and was taken somewhere far from the town.

What a way of beginning your experience in Westworld, Salim, he cursed his love for the wide-open space which guided him outside Sweetwater sooner, you are here since an hour, and you are already prisoner of bandits.

He snarled with disdain as mounts galloped under the radiant sunbeams.

They dashed thought the unknow for hours; maybe less, maybe more. Truth be told, Salim lose the track of time since the gang put their hands on him. And after some time, his thoughts started fliting around; it tried to guess what was awaiting him at the end of the journey, what the men would do and how far they could hurt him. Dar told him days ago that hosts could never kill the newcomers, for it was forbidden by their code, but he never said what they could do.

Could they punch him? Cut him? Shoot him if it wasn’t deadly? What was the limits of their programming? So many questions ran into his mind, just like the horse he sat on for quite a long time.

Then, in the middle of nowhere, the leader’s voice pierced through the distinct sound of the race: “Halt!”

Salim almost lose his balance as his horse abruptly stopped; lucky him though, his instincts were good enough to prevent any fall. He managed to stay on the saddle, however the mocking laughs he heard around him destroyed his small amount of pride; the small amount he hardly kept after his wife’s departure.

“Jason, look,” the woman’s voice amusedly shouted, “this guy ain’t use to ride a damn horse.”

The leader, Salim could now put a name on him, loudly spitted in response: “A city boy, what’d ya expected Clarice?”

He heard more than he saw the woman’s shrugging. “Don’t know, don’t ask me.”

As the Iraqi remained blind on the saddle, the others seemed to set their foot on land. He caught the sound of a camp being set up, the growling of men who were supposed to find wood, and the horse’s-tired neigh after this endless race. Minutes passed without anyone taking care of Shim, and maybe it was for the best. He wasn’t so eager to find out what his attackers have prepared for him; quite the opposite actually.

However, like a good soldier, he kept his façade on; he never showed his fear or anxiety to the ones who kidnapped him.

Then, hands grabbed his and gently guided him on the ground. It seemed odd to find such delicacy after the men’s outpouring brutality. His eyebrows creased as the fingers closed around his wrists led him away from the agitation of the settling of the camp.

Trees or maybe a huge rock covered his head as the heat deserted his neck and shoulders. He allowed himself a soft whisper, before the stranger’s hands disappeared as well. Salim waited for the man or the woman to talk, to do something, anything, but after never-ending seconds he grew impatient; and impatience only awoken the sarcasm in him. “What are you waiting for? An invitation to torture me?”

No one answered him for a while, until an amused laughter came out of the silence. “Ya got some balls, ‘ve got to admit.”

Salim recognized the voice instantly; it is the leader’s voice, Jason’s voice if I got his name correctly.

“I am a man, is that so surprising?” Maybe he was pushing his luck a little bit too far, but the Iraqi couldn’t help himself. After all, Dar always described as the stubborn dog in the company; and God knew how much he earned that nickname.

At his side, the criminal seemed to enjoy his comeback. “Some people here can’t afford the fuckin’ designation, if ya want my opinion.”

“Actually, I don’t want it. Thank you.”

The other’s snickering curtly stopped. For a second, Salim thought he said too much as he felt the bandit’s hands on his face. But when the blindfold fell on his neck, he let out a sigh of relief. His eyelid fluttered a little, his eyes trying to get used to the brightness of the day once again, then they saw it; they saw Jason’s face.

Soft features circling around two brown and deep pupils, white cheeks protected by a dark and old-fashioned hat and lips burned by the sun and contracted into an unreadable expression. Jason seemed younger than him but his thick muscles, discernable behind the dark blue shirt, were worthy of the man used to the war. The kind of man that everyone will find handsome or even attractive. He looked like a real cowboy, as his fingers played with Salim’s colt. “Nice gun ya have, pal. Where’ ya found it?”

“Someone offered it to me.”

Jason’s eyebrows wrinkled under curiosity. “Who? And where?”

“It is complicated.” The Iraqi answered as he watched the younger man examining the weapon from a closer look.

“It ain’t a damn explanation.” The bandit concluded as his ran two fingers on the barrel.

“You’ll have to deal with it, because it is truly far too complicated for you to understand.”

Without a warning, Jason violently pinned him against the closest tree. Salim was silenced by the shock until the other man placed his own colt against his throat. “Are ya implyin’ I’m dumb here?”

The older one could have excused himself, begged for mercy or spitted on the bandit’s face but once he regained the control over his body, he only shrugged his shoulders. “Let just say that you seem like the kind of man who shoots first an asks questions afterward.”

Jason considered his prejudice then nodded with humility: “Ain’t wron’ ‘bout that.”

They both stared at each other for a minute, before the bandit released his prisoner from his grip. Salim thanked him with a discreet gesture of the head, then took a better look at the place he was brought by.

The bandits established their camp on a magnificent prairie; a never-ending land of old fields, deserted by men. Trees were forming small forest from here and then, as a thin trail of river ran through the whole setting. It is... beautiful.

“Yer odd, no one ever told ya that?” The white man’s voice threw him out of his reveries. “I mean… ‘Got yer own gun pressed ‘gainst yer neck one second before and now yer enjoying the view, for real?”

The stunned tone Salim caught made him smile a little. “Since you will kill me, I will admire the setting… While I still can.”

Jason stared at him like he just saw the most beautiful horse ever before he recovered his stern composure; the one everyone thought of when it came to dangerous cowboys. “Ya may survive, if ya don’t act like a fuckin’ smartass, got it?”

A loud sigh escaped Salim’s mouth as the other forced him to sit on the ground. “Do you really need to say fucking this or fucking that so often?”

His eyes didn’t miss the subtle grin spreading on Jason’s lips as he tied him to the tree. “Ya’ll have to deal with it, ‘cause ‘s part of the character.”

And when he seemed pleased by the knots he made around the wood and his prisoner’s wrists, he straightened up, saluted Salim and disappeared behind the tent and the horses of his own men.

۩๑ ๑۩

Despite all the appearances, the bandits revealed a polite personality; well, for the most part. They swore like troopers, but except from this exhausting habit, they behave like good Samaritan. The only woman of the group, a young and masculine one named Clarice, treated the horses with an infinite respect. The second in command, a black and brawny man called Nick by the others, seemed as calm as romantic; from what Salim heard, he had an affair with the Sweetwater sheriff’s wife and wrote her many letters about his feelings. The others two, whom were physically diametrically opposed, never shut their mouths, and threw corny jokes at each other with a vivacity the Iraqi never encountered. Joey and Merwin, if he remembered their names correctly, surprised him as much as the rest of the bandits.

After all, Salim could have fell into the hands of far more worst people around here. But he guessed the city was still way too close, and so the men weren’t as bad as they could get deeper in the valleys. A relief for the prisoner, who never wanted to tempt the nastiest people of this place. Even if he couldn’t die, pleasure in the pain wasn’t part of his fantasy.

Silent and obedient, he watched the men walking from tent to tent, living and laughing at each other as they were old friends. Maybe they are, the Iraqi thought while he laid his head against the tree he was tied to. In their attitude, he recognized some of his own behavior toward Dar. They were friends since countless years now and knew almost everything about each other.

I wonder if he is worrying about me, or still enjoying the lady’s company in the saloon. Salim hoped he wouldn’t notice anything, for he knew that his boss wouldn’t shut up about it back at their office. His co-worker would become the man who was kidnapped like a damsel in distress in an “amusement park”. To be honest, the Iraqi didn’t mind it; he knew he made a mistake and had to live with the consequences of his miscalculations. However, if his colleagues couldn’t laugh about that for years, it would be… Amazing.

An annoyed sigh came out of his mouth while he closed his eyes.

And by the time he opened them again, Jason was sitting in front of him; his fingers still playing with the colt he stole from Salim before. “Let’s talk ‘bout ya a little, ‘kay?”

His sharp and dark eyes weren’t looking at him, but the Iraqi swore they only saw his face, only examined his expressions and his silences. “There is nothing interesting to say, you are wasting your time.”

The bandit’s raised his shoulders and replaced his hat with the barrel of the gun, as he finally drowned into Salim’s glare. “Let me be the judge of that, pal.”

Like I’ve got other choices, mumbled the prisoner under his breath.

“So… We’re yer from? Yer… kinda strange.”

“Says the man who randomly kidnapped people.” Salim spitted with a cold indifference, to which Jason amusedly answered: “Who told ya it was random?”

As the Iraqi’s eyebrows frowned, Jason’s lips stretched into a subtle and mysterious grin. Obviously, the bandit was playing with his captive’s nerves the same way he rolled his colt around his fingers. Sadly for him, little did he know that the older man was accustomed to this kind of game; you won’t fright me there, friend.

“So, I can add stalking to the list of your crimes.” He snapped at Jason, before an unsurprised giggle lightened his face. “I know I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”

Salim had barely said those words when he felt the weapon held by Jason against his forehead; evidently, the bandit didn’t like his quick response, or at least tried to scare him. “Yer a fuckin’ smartass, aren’t ya?”

“I am.” Answered the man without any fear in his eyes. He remained calm, almost relax while Jason scrutinized his features. “This can get ya kill, ya know?”

“What are you waiting for?” Tempted Salim as he pressed his forehead against the weapon, glare glued to the bandit’s one. “Shoot me.”

A tensed silence fell on the prairie as the two men gauged each other soul. Even the wind seemed to disappear, afraid of their mutism confrontation and of the consequences which were to come.

Was Jason able to shoot? Was he able to kill the man right there, right now? The nature held back its breath for seconds which felt like eternity, until the gun slowly withdrew to its holster.

“Ya’ll tell me what I want sooner of later, pal.” Jason abruptly assured. “But for now, ya should rest ‘cause I bet ya won’t like what’s to come.”

And so, the bandit vanished in the distance once again, leaving Salim alone with his thoughts, his doubts and the odd impression that his captor enjoyed his behavior more than he admitted. After all, didn’t the Iraqi caught the glimpse of a smile when he turned around to join the camp? The Iraqi sighed, shook his head when he noticed the sharp of a metal object at his feet. Is it…? He discreetly eyed at the camp, made sure no one was looking his way then extract the object of his fascination with his boots.

The tip of an arrow, what a pleasant gift God gave him.

Salim smiled before he pushed the object under him.

Now, he just had to wait for the perfect opportunity to escape. He closed his eyes, acted like nothing happened but his thoughts were already preparing a plan; one which could save him in time.

#fanfiction #writing #westworld au #jason kolchek #salim othman #jalim #dar basri #nick kay #clarice strokes #joey gomez #nathan merwin #Okay this is really getting out of hands #I'm just hoping you're gonna enjoy the trip #'Cause I'm enjoying it myself so much #The dialogues between Salim and Jason are so fun to write #Salim is such a king when it comes to comeback #dark pictures house of ashes #house of ashes

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satorugojowidow · 3 years ago

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Nobara and Momo's discussion

warning: if you watched the anime you will be ok with the spoilers here

Is always better to insert a discussion than just portray a few ideals like a matter of propaganda. And this is always the issue with representations in the media. There is false idea that an anime no misogynist must have many female characters that are perfect representation of feminism. But what is a perfect representation of feminism? In other words, who is a perfect feminist? How is being a perfect feminist. The problem with this perspective is the authors end up writing characters based on a few maximas. Those characters are one dimensional and sometimes it feel like click bait to dragg certain type of viewers to a piece of media that do nothing to think in what feminism has propossed as topic of discussion.

Thereby, the thing is not about to write perfect feminist, but to write character that represent in their stories ways of opressions, and those opression are problematized in the plot and not naturalized.

All this came up regarding Nobara Kugisaki and her discussion with Momo. Nobara surely is a character that steps outside many cliches regarding female characters in shonen manga. However, she can’t understand the struggles of Mai that Momo explains to her. To her, it is a matter of personality: she compares both twins and says that Maki lived the same and is different.

This is because Nobara is looking from her own privileges. Black feminism has introduced are very important concept that is “intersectionality” that helps to understand how a person live a conbiantion of multiples privilage and/or opression. For example, a white woman knows the oppression to be a woman but a black woman lives the oppression to be a woman and to be black in a racist society. Nobara didn’t grow up in a traditional clan like Mai, where women still live like they did in 1596.

The modern era, even sustaining forms of oppression against women, has lose some ties around them. Nobara does use the new space that woman has gained to live her life and she feels like natural, she feels like it's a matter of will and personality. And doesn’t recognize that not every woman gets to live in the same conditions and with the same opportunities. Even regarding only personality, not every person has the same tools to face life. Nobara and Momo discussion does far more to understand how oppression works against woman than just put two “perfect feminist” to interact.

Surely JJK has some issues in women's representation but does a few things very well. Insert discussion is without a doubt one of the things that does well, not only regarding women's oppression but also other types of oppression.

If I had to exclusively refer to the Momo and Nobara discussion, I would say that both are in different pages. Momo brings the topic about being a woman in jujutsu society when Nobara is mad because they want to kill her friend. And what annoys Nobara the most is that none of them recognize Yuuji as a person. In other situations, I believe the conversation could flow to a different spot, but in these conditions the thing about Yuuji is interfering.

Nobara says something interesting “does this mean we have to forgive the unfortunate no matter the circumstances?”.

There is a common mistake to think that understanding and forgiveness are the same. We can understand why a person does what it does, and yet disagree. Subjects refers to subjectivity and being subjected to a society and its circumstance, so there is always tension and some margen to choose. We always end up in a moral conflict, and moral is not natural or objective so the things just get more complicated.

I wouldn’t say this discussion was there to reach a resolution, but to introduce the mindset of each character and to put in perspective the problems they are facing (and the whole arc of the sister school event is a little about that) Does Mai really think in Yuuji so low or rather to not think much about and do her job to survive in that context (exactly like Kamo does)? If Nobara was in her place would do the same? Probably.

Is interesting how Mai and Nobara have dead short in their relationship while not being on different sides of life.

It is always important to remember that each person looks at life through their own experience, in real life and to analyze a character we must never forget this. Understanding other people's experiences is a way to understand them, that is a form of empathy.

#nobara kugisaki #momo nishimiya #mai zenin #jujutsu kaisen spoiler #jjk meta

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interact-if · 3 years ago

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Day 2 of Pride Month interviews! You know them, you love them…. give it up for Ames!

Ames, author of Attollo and Metamorphosis

Pride Month Featured Authors

“…and it was a singular, terrible thought, which burrowed itself into your mind like an engorged maggot. This was not a man nor a monster. This was a concept, an ideology, a terrible myth, which had personified itself to stand before you now.You were, to put it simply, screwed.”

After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend.

Too bad it’s never so simple.

Demo: Attollo, Metamorphosis (TBA)

Tags: cybernoir, thriller

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: Tell us a little bit about your project(s)!

Attollo is a cyber-noir horror set in a walled city off the coast of the Atlantic that’s been a victim of a nuclear disaster. After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend. Too bad it’s never so simple. Attollo is a 17+ game that deals with heavy topics and a lot of moral questioning; from cults to corrupt government, it has no shortage of monsters in the dark—both metaphorical and literal.

Metamorphosis is a crime/horror story based in the world of crime scene cleanup, where there are three simple steps: Get the call, clean the scene, and don’t ask too many questions. These are the rules that you live by under the employment of Noctua’s Crime Scene Services, and you credit them for keeping you alive.

However, after a routine house call brings forth nightmares of memories that are not your own, you find yourself pulled deeper into Noctua—a city of both monster and man—in a bid to find out the truth behind the murder of Deirdre Callow, and better yet, how her memories came to be yours. Your job mandates that you don’t dig too deep—but could this finally be the exception?

Metamorphosis is 18+ and will have explicit content; follow the last moments of a stranger to find out not only who took her life, but how this connects to the underbelly that Noctua works so hard to hide.

Q2: Why interactive fiction? What drew you to the medium?

Lmaoo, oh man. I think it really all began last summer when I first found examples of interactive fiction. I don’t even remember how I came across it, it might’ve been that I saw it mentioned in a post or I saw it as a tag on Itch.io, but at some point, last summer I began to investigate it more. I think what really drew me in was the ability for the player to control the narrative; it was like playing an old RPG, but modernized, and the fact that I could see a story unfold that was influenced by my decisions was so fascinating to me. Not to mention that IF allows so much more character depth than regular novels, in my opinion.

I’m 99% sure my first exposure to interactive fiction was through the game Crème de la Crème (a fantastic game, by the way) and I just enjoyed it so much that I went haywire for the genre. Then Temple of the Endless Night came out (another fantastic game that I’m looking forward to!), and that was really the turning point for inspiring me to give it a go. Now, almost a year later, here I am working on my own two games!

Q3: Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

My bisexuality doesn’t have much of a major influence on the game, but I do think it contributed to the way that I view and write relationships. I figured out my sexuality around high school (I kissed a girl in high school and found out I liked it just as much as when I kissed a boy) and since then I’ve been very involved in the LGBTQ+ community of both my hometown and uni town.

I think this involvement, like being able to hear about other people’s experiences and share my own, has made me feel a lot more comfortable writing some of the characters in the game. Although Attollo and Metamorphosis both don’t focus heavily on relationships (both have murder in them, which I feel is a bit more pressing), I do keep the option for any RO’s to be romanced by anyone, regardless of gender or preference, because that’s simply what I’ve become so attuned to. In terms of side characters relationships as well, I think my involvement and my own experiences have allowed me to write far more diverse relationships than I might have, and I think that this has also allowed a more fulfilling experience for players when reading through.

I also have incorporated some struggles that I’ve faced before because of my identity into the games. For example, I and a few others have faced issues with religion due to who we are, and I incorporate this into both games. Dreamwalker, Pariah, and Sysba from Attollo all have shadows of this experience in their character origins, and Ilali and Ariston from Metamorphosis has a major point involving identity and beliefs. Both games also have undertows of ostracization and division between groups, which is also something I’ve experienced in the past. Being able to grapple these moments and control them via a narrative has been eye opening for both myself and others involved, and I’m hoping it can be a learning experience for the readers as well.

Q4: What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction?

I think, now, the amount of progress in LGBTQ+ fiction is expanding at a wonderful rate. There are so many interactive fictions with options to select sexuality, select gender, select beliefs, etc. However, despite this expansion, there’s still a good deal of backlash against some aspects of LGBTQ+ fiction.

For example, as a bisexual woman who has dated men, I know there are some individuals who may not consider me a part of the LGBTQ+ because of this aspect. Not only is this incredibly disheartening, but it’s a viewpoint that I think should be educated against, and fiction is a fantastic pathway to do this. Another example I can think of is a friend of mine who identifies as asexual but is sex-neutral rather than sex-repulsed. Most people can’t believe her when she says this, and she often faces backlash for this declaration as well. This is another thing that I think that, with exposure through a medium such as fiction, can be worked on.

What I’m trying to say here is that I think LGBTQ+ fiction can be a brilliantly educational platform—if used right. Although it already teaches so much with what it has, I think having that representation of different subgroups of sexuality, of their experiences and beliefs, so people can become aware and knowledgeable of these options, is something I’d like to see more of.

Q5: What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

Oh man, I struggled to list off inspirations because I know I have some, but as soon as someone asks me who they are my brain just goes ‘brrrrrr’ LMAO.

In terms of the games that I write and the worlds that I build, I think David Lynch and Robert Chambers are probably the two that I somehow incorporate. Attollo and Metamorphosis both have a lot of surrealist horror, which are what these two really specialized in. Shirley Jackson is also another person who inspired me a lot when it came to the writing and creation of Attollo, especially the intrapersonal relationships between the characters.

In terms of life, this is something else I really struggle to answer. I don’t really have celebrity inspirations or anything like that, but I do get inspired by my close friends and sister a lot. Seeing them go through the struggles that they face and absolutely thrive really drives me to push through my own struggles. They’re the strongest, most brilliant group of people that I know, and I consider myself incredibly fortunate that I can be a part of their lives. Not only that, but we also all collectively encourage each other to push further and to chase our dreams (as cheesy as that is LMAO) and that’s something that I think is another stroke of good fortune. I struck gold when I met them, and they’re some of the biggest inspirations in my life.

Q6: What’s a super vague spoiler for your current project?

For Attollo, I’d say ‘Home is where the heart is.’ For Metamorphosis, to quote John Berendt, ‘Always stick around for one more drink.’

Q7: Lastly, what advice would you give to your readers?

What advice would I give to you all? Oh my, I’m not exactly a wise woman here, but I’ll do my best to give you something lmaooo. I think what I really want you to walk away with, from both my stories and this interview, is that if you’re passionate about something, then share it with the world. Don’t let anyone deter your passion.

I remember listening to this painter once who commented to his friend how he ‘really liked painting’, and his friend’s first response was ‘but are you good at it?’. He then compared this to the scenario of walking; would you say, ‘but are you good at it?’ to someone who said, ‘I really like walking’? No, because it simply wouldn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense to say that to anyone who’s doing something out of passion.

To put it simply—if you love something, then don’t let anyone take that passion from you. I began writing these stories because I’m passionate about Attollo and Metamorphosis; I love each character, each bit of lore, and I share it with you because I want you all to enjoy it as well. Am I the best writer? God, no. Does everyone like what I write? Definitely not. But will I let this stop me from writing, from enjoying what I’m doing? Never, and I want you to do the same.

Explore your passions, embrace your passions, and let what makes you happy continue to do so

#if: events #Pride Month 2021 #pride month #queer authors #queer fiction #queer creators #interactive fiction

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delu-jean · 3 years ago

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hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚)

(Erwin x fem!/reader) -> Mentions of Historia! -> Fluff -> 1.6k

Request: hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!

Notes: After the interaction the two had (somewhere in season three), I literally head cannoned him being her father! The chemistry between the two would be so sweet if they were!! The concept for this request was so adorable!! Thanks for the request, and enjoy! ^^

“We did it...we have the colossal now,” you’d say, knees shaking after all of the casualties. Erwin then caught you. Seeing how shocked you were, he tried to calm you down the best he could.

“Yes Y/n...we did...but at a great cost.”

“Was it really one worth all of this trouble?” You said being unsure with such a loss.

“Of course it was. For the sake of humanity.”

“Right...for the sake of Humanity.”

---

Many had died during the mission to Shiganshina. A lot of your comrades lost, along with your dearest friends. You mourned over such a thing, but ultimately, were glad for the ones who had survived. Levi, Hange, your dearest and most closest friends, still breathing as you spoke. And Erwin, your lover for gosh knows how long. Even after the stunt that was pulled, he still managed to survive. You were relieved that such a chaotic man...had escaped such a brutal mess.

You were also glad that he saw what he had eagerly wanted to see. The basement that Eren had the key to. After hearing about some vague details from the commander, along with the other four who had entered, it gave you a mix of emotions. Both ecstatic to know there was more out there, yet terrified that such things were most likely forgein obstacles. Ones that would be hard to get rid of.

Regardless, you were now heading back. Delivering both the books, along with yourselves, and whatever else you had left. At the entrance of wall Sina, there you see Historia waiting. She seemed ecstatic yet composed when greeting you all. And when seeing both you and Erwin, she seemed even more pleased.

You see, even though Historia had her own birth parents, they never felt like her actual ones (based on the tragedies they caused). She’d been neglected...never feeling like she had someone to look up to. But when entering the Survey Corps, though it took a while to warm up to you, she ultimately did. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk to you, rather, it took some time for her to see you as a mother figure.

You were maybe 15 years older than her, but even that being the case, you saw her as your own. Though she wasn’t calling you “mom,” nor were you calling her “your daughter,” you both had the relationship. Labels weren’t needed to understand such a thing.

Since she grew up without the affection of her mom, she took your affection very seriously. She was thankful to say the least. Thankful for the nights you would console her, give her advice, and hear her out. Though Ymir had done the same, the difference was that you spoke the words of a mother. Erwin had also come around to this concept, and tried getting to know Historia on a more personal level.

He saw how attached you were to such an extraordinary girl. That being the case, he too wanted to experience the joy you two shared. You of course encouraged such a thing, and therefore, he did his best when getting to know her. It was a good practice for him since for most (if not all of ) his soldiers, he considered them pawns. So that being the case, you took this as an opportunity for him to think otherwise.

Another reason as to why Erwin was doing this, was because of his own personal experience. Though he did have his father, he was (eventually) taken away from him at a young age. He didn’t want Historia to go astray like he did in his teenage years. So, he tried building a connection. Hoping his input could help her in the best way.

Though it wasn’t as easy going compared to the both of you, he did his best, and she appreciated the effort put in. He’d usually have conversations with her about life. The most simple, yet complicated philosophy out there. Maybe he would even pop in his childhood memories, and theories he had. Truly making the most of their time. And she enjoyed their interactions. You adored how close the two were. Though one was more tense than the other, the affection was clearly there. Just seeing them together, made you wonder as to how Erwin would be with his own children. Possibly yours if we’re being specific.

Erwin then approached the girl on his steed. Bowing to the queen to be, along with the rest of you.

“Princess Historia, we made many discoveries during our mission. Ones that we can discuss privately whenever it is to your liking,” Erwin said, composed with a respectful tone.

“Of course Commander. Before we do, I think you could all rest. It’ll be best if you do, after all...it seems as if you could use it,” she took note of the lack of numbers, but decided not to bring it up.

“Of course,” Erwin agreed and everyone left. Well...except the both of you. Hirstoria then invited you both into the castle. The three of you sat in a room, the two of you on one couch, while she sat on the other. Face to face as she took a sip of tea.

“Forget about formalities, I’m glad you’re both alive,” she smiled and you did the same.

��I don’t think it’s appropriate if we do...after all, you will be the Queen soon.”

“Nonsense. Even when that does happen, nothing will change between the three of us.”

“I guess not,” Erwin chuckled as she sighed in relief.

“Now that that’s over with, let’s discuss the details over your findings.”

“Sounds good, Queen Historia.”

“Oh stop it Y/n,” she pestered as you giggled.

“So, Historia…”

Erwin then went on about their findings. How there was an entire civilization across from them, how you all were subjects of Ymir, about the nine titans, and whatever else they had left to say. He seemed stern during his conversation, not only that, but you could sound the passion which rang through his words. He looked somewhat relieved that he saw such an extraordinary finding. Not only was it one step closer to saving humanity, but one step closer to fulfilling both his wants, and needs.

You didn’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t made it out alive. The guilt of him not being able to see such a sight, nor Historia...would’ve crushed you if anything. You know that the both of you would have missed him dearly...and if anything, she would have felt responsible for his death. Something that was never predicted, yet under the control of the Scout regiment. A power that she had ruled over.

Though this thought lingered, it was one that had not come true. And hopefully, things would stay that way. He was here with you. Safe and sound. Maybe a little bruised but hey, handsome either way. You then put your head on his shoulder, caressing his thumb. Though he tried keeping composure, he eventually gave in. Relaxing his body while in the warmth of your touch.

“I see, interesting…” she nod to then say:

“Erwin, Y/n, you know how much I love the both of you. Because of that...when I do become queen...please don’t let our dynamic change. I find comfort in it, and hope that we can continue to have the relations set.”

To your surprise, Erwin spoke first. His eyes soft, and his speech gentle. Staring at the young girl before him, who was now becoming an adult.

“Of course. If that is what the Queen allows, I’ll be sure to do my part. For both humanity, but importantly, you Historia,” you then placed your own cup down, accompanying Erwin:

“I agree. Of course, our manners will have to prosper when needed...but if we’re alone, or even if we’re not, feel free to come to either of us. We’ll care for you no matter what, okay?” she teared up a bit and then walked to the both of you. You both stood up, and grasped her. The mood felt both joyful, yet teary.

“I’m glad you both made it. Please be careful out there,” Erwin, though reluctant, then placed a hand (A/n: the only one-) on her head.

“Don’t worry, you can count on us, your majesty.”

‘Ah my little girl...so grown and mature,’ she tightened her grip on your torso, as your arms were still wrapped around her.

“Yes...don’t worry. You can most definitely count on us.”

---

As time progressed Historia got crowned. That being the case, she had more responsibilities on hand. Constantly working her hardest to help her people. You were glad to see such a young person blossom into such a strong woman. Though she did most things on her own, you and Erwin guided her when possible. Even when it came to the little things like if her drapes should be red, or green.

There would also be moments where it was just the three of you, or you two alone. Now that she was queen, her time was of value. So you tried to spend it in the wisest way possible. Talking about politics could wait, those were the times where you all could express things heart to heart. Being honest about how she felt, versus how things ran. Expressing her love for the people she rules, and even the deep thoughts that kept her up at night.

Both Erwin and you did your best to guide her through these emotions. Wanting to teach her both politically, and most importantly, emotionally. Prepping her for the duties she would have as both Queen, and herself. Raising her to be the person she wanted to be, and supporting her to the utmost of your abilities.

“I think I understand now, what we have to do against Marely. Though it is just one step, it’s one step closer to saving the people of Ymir.”

“Yes, yes it is...Historia,” Erwin said as he held your hand.

“It definitely is...Historia.”

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potteresque-ire · 4 years ago

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hello, ily metas! thank you for taking the time for them. i hope you dont mind an ask with two follow up questions to your metas i'm curious about: 1) has mxtx rly been sentenced? i have seen others also share this news but other fans have quickly dismissed and gotten pissed at these reports for being fake news that are bad for mxtx, and as fearmongering. 2) for those who want to support yizhan but not the ccp, do you have advice how to navigate fan support and interaction with their media?

Hello! I apologise for the late reply! You’ve brought up some interesting points, so please forgive me for responding with an essay.

First, about MXTX — This is a follow-up to this post.

Unfortunately, this is all we got—all everyone has got about MXTX’s current situation: on 2020/11/10, she was sentenced in Hangzhou Shang Cheng District’s People’s Court (杭州市上城區人民法院). No details were given on her verdict, due to “人民法院認為不宜在互聯網公布的其它情形” (“The People’s Court decided it inappropriate to announce further details on the internet”). Here’s a link with the screenshot that showed all the information released about the case that day.

There are enough copies of similar screenshots to this one online, with the differences dependent on where the publisher pulled the information from the same website: ��國裁判文書網, an online archive of verdicts run by China Supreme People’s Court. There’re few reasons, therefore, to believe the information on the screenshot was fake. The link I used was Sina’s Financial News, which I believe is trustworthy enough for China’s standard.

It is also important to note, of course, that two scenarios may still render this screenshot irrelevant. 1) The verdict, which was not mentioned in the screenshot, was “not guilty” and 2) the name listed in the case, 袁依楣, was not MXTX at all.

Few have seemed to suspect 2) to be a possibility. Her real name might have been prior knowledge among some fans, or the combination of her surname and city of residence. 1) has been the where the concern / debate is.

I included China’s rate of conviction in the original post for this reason: acquittal is exceedingly rare (<0.1%) for the arrested in China. This short article discussed some reasons.

So, is it possible that MXTX is now a free woman? Yes. Is it likely? Not at all.

Still, since the probability that MXTX is imprisoned isn’t 100%, is spreading this news smearing her name? Fear-mongering?

I can only answer for myself, Anon, but my answer is no for both questions, which is why I’ve felt comfortable posting about her case. MXTX’s alleged “crimes” are things we already knew she did, or common practices among Chinese IP writers. We know she penned MDZS and other BL works; we know MDZS, in particular, has an 18+ element. She was said to have sold merch based on her works, but that wasn’t unusual at all for writers in Jinjiang, where she published her writing. Even those who don’t like her have seemed to agree that it was her writing that got her into trouble, not some other crimes she could’ve committed.

IMO, a guilty verdict doesn’t tell us as much about her as it does about the judicial system, the business practices of her country. It’s worth re-mentioning that media giants such as Tencent are closely tied to the government; Tencent’s WeChat, for example, is part of China’s Great Firewall and is used for surveillance, for censorship and removal of political dissidents. What MXTX’s case hints at is this: the government has (very likely) convicted her, while its close allies are continuing to use her works—works that got her into legal trouble in the first place—to make money. Some fans of MXTX have questioned if the courts have censored the details of the case to save the embarrassment of the rich and powerful, calling what has happened to MXTX 人血饅頭 (“human blood steamed buns”), an idiom used to describe the act of profiting out of someone elses’ life.

As for fear-mongering, here are my thoughts ~ it would’ve been fear-mongering if the public has access to the facts, and not years after they happen. Specifically, it would’ve been fear-mongering to leak the rumours of MXTX’s sentencing, when the judicial system is transparent and the case details will soon be published for all to see. Why? Because “fear” comes from the unknown, and “-monger” is the unnecessary promotion, stirring-up of this fear.

To promote, stir up anything, one needs a reference level. The reference level in this scenario is this: what is the level of fear if the facts about MXTX’s (and other BL writers’) situation are known? Of course, this knowledge doesn’t make MXTX’s experience any easier or more just; it doesn’t cause her less fear. However, she isn’t the target audience of this likely-to-be-true rumour. The target audience is the public and in particular, those who consume and/or generate BL material online.

What is the level of fear among this population if the facts about MXTX’s (and other BL writers’) situation are known? It’s the (relative) comfort in knowing the government’s stance on what they do: how the administration feels about BL, 18+ BL, and their distribution methods. The comfort comes from having the right information to decide how to act accordingly. For example, if I’m a BL writer based in China and I know the court has found MXTX guilty of bypassing publishing houses but not of writing M/M romance, then I’ll know to not produce paper versions of my writing, but I can keep writing.

This reference level of fear is unavailable here, however, since the government has decided to withhold all details about the case. Without this reference level, fear-mongering becomes a ... difficult to define concept.

Are these likely-to-be-true rumours agents of fear, or are they hints on how to survive in a country that lacks transparency?

Continuing with the example of I being a Chinese BL writer, since I cannot expect to hear more facts about MXTX, this rumour is all I’ve got in choosing what to do with my hobby, in deciding whether it is safe to continue. As I’m aware that a rumour isn’t a fact, I first research on the rumour’s likelihood of truth (similar to what I’ve done for MXTX’s case), and cross my fingers that I don’t get it wrong.

By doing so, I’m turning these rumours into my survival guide.

Is it risky? Yes. Is it exhausting? Absolutely. But this is the way of life for people who live under secretive, authoritarian governments—the authoritarian element making it impossible to demand more facts. It may take people outside such regimes some time to get used to—to the lifestyle, and to the idea that, in a place where news is often synonymous with propaganda, rumours are breadcrumbs of truth that should be sieved through with equal care as one would sieve through the news. Heeding, considering the probable truth of what the authority has deemed to be fear-mongering rumours can be a matter of literal life and death.

Take...COVID. (I apologize for bringing up this unpleasant topic!)

I shall link to an article about the early spread of COVID in Wuhan here and ask: were Dr. Li Wenliang and the seven other doctors fear-mongering? Wuhanese chose to believe in the government, but at what cost to them? What would the world be like today if they took the early COVID rumours as true and masked up like Hong Kongers—Hong Kongers who weren’t any smarter or better, but had simply learned their painful lessons from the 2003 SARS epidemic?

(Why hadn’t the Wuhanese learned? Because the government has long changed the narrative of SARS, taught their people that the illness originated in Hong Kong.)

(How can one learn from past mistakes if one pretends those mistakes never existed?)

You must be wondering, Anon, why I’m talking about COVID when your next question is about YiZhan. The death of Dr Li Wenliang on February 7th, 2020, sparked a demand for freedom of speech rarely seen in internet-age China. Its fury, its ferocity forced the government to change its stance on Dr Li, again an unusual move. Since January 2020, Weibo had been censoring COVID news and opinion pieces that shedded a negative light to the central government; after the death of Dr Li, the censorship apparatus stepped up, making way for the propaganda machine to kick in later and change the narrative of the pandemic.

Here are some questions without definite answers, but may be food for thought for YiZhan fans:

1) While the Chinese government’s censorship apparatus (including Weibo) might have silenced the voices of dissent, of mourning on the surface, was it more likely to pacify, or fuel the anger of netizens, many of whom had lost loved ones, many of whom were still under quarantine?

2) Less than three weeks after the death of Dr Li, a group of fans demanded even *more* censorship from the government—the closing of an internet website that had been seen as a relatively free space to express oneself. How would these netizens react, even though they knew little about these fans or their idol?

(It was, in the context of the massive silencing of COVID discussions in China, that I learned about the ban of AO3. There had been rumours that the government would censor more websites on 2020/03/01. When I read about AO3′s ban on 2/27, my thoughts were 1) Hmm. This came two days early. 2) AO3? Really?)

(I wouldn’t watch The Untamed or know who Gg was until several months later.)

Now, Anon, this is a good time to get to your CCP (Chinese Communist Party) question.

The very short answer is no. There’s no way to support YiZhan without, to a certain level, supporting the CCP. As mentioned above, the media companies are all part of China’s surveillance system. Weibo is where freedom of speech is curbed. Our two boys have been part of the propaganda machine; the BBC article linked above had a tiny picture of Gg on it, as he was a performer in the Hero in Harm’s Way (最美逆行者), a “real-life based” drama on COVID. DD just did a show glorying the Chinese police force (and here’s a video of the same force welding doors to lock in COVID-stricken residents).

Nonetheless, here’s my first advice: please do not beat yourself up for supporting YiZhan!

Gg and Dd are people who live within the system, inside the Great Firewall. They understand the world the way their government has taught them to—not only in school, but also in the news and media. Like most youths in every country, they’re patriotic—and to expect them to be otherwise, especially because of information they don’t have, is both unrealistic and unfair. Even if they do know about certain things impermissible within the Firewall, in China (as in many Communists countries), openly expressing / performing one’s proper political leanings (ie. loyalty towards CCP) is among the most important pre-requisites for any job. This has been especially true for c-ent in recent years .

They, like most of their countrymen, are doing what they have to do.

In this case, it comes to us, our decisions on how to interact with their works. How should we deal with them, their propaganda elements?

The answer, of course, varies from person to person. Personally, I’ve chosen the approaches of “immunisation” and “restriction”. By “immunisation”, I mean learning about as much historical and sociopolitical facts from non-CCP sponsored sources; this is understandably difficult for someone who doesn’t already have some familiarity with the culture and politics of the region, and/or cannot read the language.

Restriction means limiting my consumption of media produced by China. I avoid shows (dramas, documentaries, variety etc) featuring topics that are likely to contain heavy propaganda, such as the military, the police, Hong Kong/Macao/Taiwan, and of course, anything pertaining to the CCP, from its rise to its governance of the country.

In general, I’m wary of all information presented about the post-monarchy years (post 1911), even though CCP wouldn’t begin its reign until after WWII (1949). Why so early? 1) Because CCP was formed in 1921 and so its glorification requires a change of narrative since then; 2) because the Nationalist Party (Kuomintang, KMT), which governed China between 1912 and 1949 (the so-called Republican Era 民國), would end up exiling to and setting up a new government in Taiwan.

How much propaganda should one expect in shows depicting the country post-1911? The current TV and webdrama directives (previously discussed in this post) offer some hints. Here are my translations of the relevant items:

D7) Dramas about the Republican era: Glorification of the Republican Era, the Beiyang Government, and Warlord Era requires strict control.

D10) Crime drama: crime drama is the focus of content auditing. The Ministry of Public Security (Pie note: in charge of law enforcement, ie, police) will be involved in the audit. The process of crime solving cannot be exposed; criminal psychology and motivations can however be depicted in detail. Undercover police cannot use drugs or kill, or damage the image of the police force. Criminals must be punished by law.

D12) Dramas featuring realistic topics: realistic topics must adhere to the correct world view, philosophy of life and moral values. They cannot place too strong an emphasis on social conflicts, must showcase the beautiful lives of the commoners. Regular folks should display larger-than-life sentiments and aspirations; they can pursue wealth, but must use proper means to do so; they cannot damage the public image of specific employment types, groups and social organisations. Do not preach negative or decadent world view, philosophy of life and moral values. Do not exaggerate, amplify social issues; do not over showcase, display the darker sides of society; do not preach affluence, avoid things that have no basis in real life.

D16) Dramas featuring the Revolution (Pie note: CCP’s coming to power): 2019 is the publicity period of the 70th Anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Although the “Three Importances” (important revolution, important people, important events) are still encouraged, the National Radio and Television Administration requires all departments, at all levels, to strengthen the control of content and the overall management of the industry, and focus on the auditing of content pertaining to the Sino-Japanese war and espionage dramas.

These directives (as those translated in the other post) are as vague as they are restrictive, and to err on the side of caution, production companies tend to “overachieve” to avoid going against headwinds at the censorship board. This means their products have a tendency to malign the Republican Era (D7). It means they will likely twist history in trying to depict the CCP as faultless heroes (D16). It means they'll probably present a utopian-like society and call it reality-based (D12), a society in which the good guys share the same values as the CCP and always win (D10).

Yes, my “restriction” means I skipped Hero in Harm’s Way. It means I’ve never listened to Gg’s version of 我和我的祖國 despite my absolute adoration of his voice. It means I just missed Dd’s performance in the law enforcement celebration event. It means I don’t plan on watching Being A Hero and Ace Troops.

So here’s where I’ve drawn the line, Anon, but it doesn’t mean that’s what anyone should do. Only you alone can decide where your own comfort zone is. I write these metas in the hopes that it can offer a … gateway for those who’d like to understand, with a more telescopic lens, Gg and Dd’s country—a country that holds a particularly strong hold over its citizens’ fate including, yes, their romantic fate. It’s not my wish to impose my opinions on anyone.

If I have other hopes… It’s this. Please, as long as it’s safe for you to talk, do not self-censor—especially about facts, especially on sites like Tumblr or Twitter that have long been banned by the Chinese government. I don’t mean one should go about and confront those who insist on a different version of reality. To undo opinions rooted in years of education, IMO, the process has to be voluntary, and the information is already at the fingertips of those who’re surfing these sites and wish to learn more. More importantly, open discussions of these topics may be risky for those who still have close ties to China, and keeping them safe should always be the top priority.

What I mean is simply this ~ please do not feel obliged to agree with every perspective presented in YiZhan’s work just because you support the leads. Please do not feel you must remain silent about the CCP—its good, bad and ugly—just because your favourite stars happen to come from the country it’s ruling. And please remember: “Chinese”, as a term, has always included people who live outside CCP’s control, many of whom still fully embrace the culture, traditions and values of Historical China, a 5000-years long string of dynasties with shifting borders, ethnic makeup and customs. The Untamed is a mainland Chinese production, yes, but its genre, its manner of presenting certain traditions, wouldn’t have been developed, or flourished, without the diaspora. The CCP has only been the ruling party of one country, the People’s Republic of China, for 71 years, and as a party with foreign (soviet) roots and a record of destroying the pillar of the country’s tradition, Confucianism, it doesn’t own a monopolistic say on how every Chinese should think and act—no matter how much it insists it does—or how everyone should think and speak about China and its people.

It isn’t qualified.

#Anonymous #pie metas #pie answers #BJYX #yizhan

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calciumcryptid · 4 years ago

Text

I Have Elected to Ignore Midnight's Death

Polarmare's First Day

It was the first year Kenta would be teaching at U.A. A longtime friend of hers requested to take up the open teaching position, and who was Polarmare going to deny a change of scenery?

Besides, her sister lived in Japan and was elated to know that the Fuyuhito sisters were getting back together so that was the housing situation solved in under five minutes.

U.A. paid good as well which was good for a single mother like Kenta. She adored Seko with all her heart from the first time they met in Japan two years ago when she saved him from prison. Sure the paperwork was a bitch, but Seko loved the opportunity to meet so many different heroes.

So they packed their bags, and headed off to Japan where she was reunited with her sister.

The day after they arrived she made sure her paperwork was sorted by the Hero Safety Commission, then made sure to pick up Seko for her tour at UA.

There she met Nezu, who seemed just as crazy has he had been over the phone and her fellow coworkers.

She took an instant liking to Powerloader and Snipe as they bonded over creating weapons. Vlad King and Ectoplasm seemed chill too, and it was nice to see other dedicated teachers.

Midnight was cheering about another woman on the staff, though seemed to deflate when Kenta snipped her sexual flirting at the bud.

Present Mic was loud, but reminded Kenta of a friend in America so the familiarity was nice.

It was interesting meeting All Might after seeing his last stand on the news, but Kenta hoped they would be able to get along even if he seemed like a bumbling mess half of the time.

Recovery Girl was alright, a bit jaded but it was hard to find a hero so old who wasn't.

Aizawa seemed like someone she needed to keep her eye on, his knee jerk reaction upon learning she was an international hero was hostility while he worked under the impression she was a spotlight hero.

With a swing of her axe, and a clarification of the fact she was a Neighborhood Hero who worked mostly under Rescue and Underground terms, he simmered down real quick.

The General Ed teachers seemed chill, and Kenta hoped she would be able to grab some drinks with them after a long day of work.

Seko loved every one of the them, and was excited by the prospect of their quirks though Kenta made sure to cover his eyes and ears whenever Midnight was in the room.

After final arrangements with Nezu, she was given the dates of the entrance exams. The Fuyuhito family left in good spirits.

The day of the Management Entrance Exam came around, and Kenta came in her formal hero uniform. She took a seat beside Snipe and Powerloader, and was introduced as Polarmare.

Polarmare watched as potential students came in to present one by one, and she made notes. At the end of the day after helping the potential support students present Polarmare was happy with her picks.

It wasn't over though as she spent a while in her new office she looked at each students history, made a few calls, and at the end picked out a good sixty for the first years.

Sixty may seem extreme, but there were many parts of management and business so they wouldn't all be in one class.

She went home to tend to her son, and went to see the sights with her family.

The day of the hero entrance exams arrived, and Polarmare took a seat in the viewing room. She studied the motions of the potential students, their interactions, and was pleasantly surprised to see Nezu took her suggestion of making Rescue Points public and hiding a new type of points known as Cooperation Points.

The big scale robot had been toned down a bit, and at the end Polarmare had a few qualms but didn't have any outward complaints.

Eventually, the first day of the school year came around and Polarmare did her introductory presentation. She explained each branch of management and business, the schedules, and sent them on a tour with Snipe of the business building.

While that occured, she had a meeting with the votes on representatives and outlined what she expected of each of them. She was pleasantly surprised to find them ready to meet the challenge, and was off once again.

She let the students spend the first week exploring the changes she made, and getting used the renovated building. She didn't see the need to challenge them too much considering they were in a new environment.

At the end of the day, Polarmare made her way to the Conference Room and took her place. The first thing she noticed was a lack of Gen Ed teachers present, which concerned her.

Snipe and Powerloader seemed surprised to see her there, and it was Snipe who leaned over.

"The Management teacher usually doesn't come to these meetings as they center primarily around the hero course."

Polarmare took in the words before responding, "Business and Management is a huge part of heroics so I believe I should be present for any meetings regarding the Hero Course."

Snipe nodded, and straightened back up.

After a couple more looks, the rest of the teachers settled down to prepare the meeting.

Nezu got up on his little podium, and smiled. "Welcome to the first hero course meeting of the year. Since we have a new teacher with us this year, I would love to hear her thoughts on how she plans on interacting with the hero course."

"First, may I record the meeting?" Polarmare asked. "I work better if I have audio to listen to afterwards."

A few of the teachers gave each other looks, but Nezu nodded.

Polarmare tapped her recorder before she stood up. "I plan on calling the second year students to the business building to discuss their media presence. With permission from you and their gaurdians, I want to make sure they have profiles set up on Hero Watch. It would be good for them to interact with other heroes, and it will open internship and work study opportunities for them."

Nezu hummed, "Permission granted, you may start as soon as you can."

"Once I get their gaurdains approval," Polarmare resaid with a firm stare. "I shall send out the email tonight, and set up conferences if needed."

Polarmare noticed some of the teachers looking at her in confusion, but she made her notes.

The rest of the teachers went around, and Polarmare made her notes. Admittedly more on their body language then what they have to say.

The last person to talk was Aizawa. He stood up and gathered a couple of papers.

"All of the expulsion forms have been filled out." Aizawa passed them around towards Nezu.

Polarmare slammed down her hand before they could be passed the final length. She turned them over to look through them.

"Polarmare, may I ask what you are doing?" Aizawa asked through gritted teeth.

"You know Eraserhead, this seems quite light for expulsion papers. I see a distinct lack of reference to any evidence or record of you meeting with the student to discuss the expulsion."

"What are you talking about?" Aizawa asked.

"According to the Student Rights, the student should be made aware of their expulsion with any evidence before they are expelled." Polarmare looked over to Aizawa, "I assume this is the first time Nezu has seen these, so I also assume he has been expelling students based on your word without a meeting or evidence."

Aizawa stared Polarmare down, "U.A. does not work on the regular rules schools are legally allowed to abide by."

Polarmare shifted the papers in her hand, "Actually, Student Rights apply to all schools. If this is the case, and you have been expelling like this, it is a miracle you haven't been sued."

"Nezu handles the lawsuits," Snipe said.

"Ah, that explains that. Let me clarify, it is a miracle that someone who outranks you hasn't caught on and sued you." Polarmare adjusted her posture, "Now what is your reasoning?"

"The students show a lack of potential," Aizawa stated matter of factly.

Polarmare raised an eyebrow, and waved her hand. "And?"

"What more is there to say?"

Polarmare sighed deeply. "Tell me Eraserhead, how do you measure a concept as abstract as 'Potential'."

"A series of trials," Aizawa stated.

"Yeah, I saw those trials being performed. I noticed that they are all physical. Are you saying you are measuring potential on how physically experienced your students are?"

Midnight giggled.

Polarmare shot a glare before turning back to Aizawa, "I am going to look through these students and read out loud their quirks."

"This is uneccesary-"

"Marinette, this quirk allows the user to control those with human intelligence or faux human intelligence like robots as though they are simply puppets. Hmm, I don't see how this could apply to something like a grip test or ball throw. Though this could be a way to give heroes confidence or maybe even to control villains. This student sounds like a great Underground or Neighborhood Hero if they so desired.

"That is only-"

"Oh! Gnaw. This one is interesting. This quirk gives the user sharp appendages as long as they are made out of keratin on some level. Can't think of how this would help a sit-up, but imagine there was a super strong net that could be useful. This student sounds like an amazing Rescue Hero if they so desired."

"Two-"

"Slowdown, a quirk that allows the user to slow down anything that is moving. That is amazing on its own, and if they know how to dismantle robots in the time allowed they have to be some sort of mechanical genius! They could go down any hero path they wanted and he so successful. A shame I can't think of how this would help on any trials unless they were sabotaging others. Were they sabotaging others?"

"No," Aizawa said.

"This is a bad trend Eraserhead," Polarmare warned. "Of course if you insist on wanting to expell them, then why don't you allow me work out some private study transfers. I know what, like five? Ten? Twenty? Probably like something hundred pros who are on the waiting list that would love to work with some of these quirks."

Aizawa glared at her.

"Then again why is there such a focus on their quirks? Oh! I know, it is because you don't care how they act if Mineta and Bakugou is anything to go by." Polarmare said. "Don't think I've noticed the large amount of tapes and complaints filled out regarding them."

Polarmare looked up at Aizawa, "I'm just saying there is some good evidence here to create a good quirk discrimination and abuse of power case. Unfortunately for you, I happen to be friends with a lot of lawyers and reporters who don't exactly love UA and would love to get their hands on this information."

"Nezu!" Aizawa shouted.

Nezu who was blankly smiling throughout the whole exchange looked at Aizawa. "What? She has a point, and we can not take another hit like this to our reputation. Polarmare you have permission to disband the expulsions."

"Thank you."

"Oh shit," Present Mic muttered but it was audible due to the complete silence of the room."

"With that, I believe this meeting shall be adjourned. I employ you all to spend some times to reevaluate your students."

Polarmare collected her notes, and looked over the expulsion sheets. She wasn't lying before, she was sure she could find some good mentors for these students depending on what they want to do. She'll have to add those meetings to her calendar. Maybe Seko had some ideas, and her sister would probably snatch up one of th-

Something ling and grey wrapped around her mid section, and she didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Eraserhead, what do I owe the pleasure?" She turned her head to see his eyes aflame with red.

"I have been managing my class like this for years, and I do not appreciate you coming in here and dictating what I can and can not do."

"I do not dictate it, the law does." Polarmare sighed as she looked at his eyes. "Cancelling my quirk is useless considering it isn't and offensive quirk," She pointed out.

Aizawa let his capture scarf wrap back around his neck as he blinked. He stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"Bakugou is a perfectly fine student, and I do not see why you brought him up-"

"The boy has a record of telling people to die, I don't care if it is his thing it fucks with your head. Not to mention the physical assault and berating he does, because unlike you I read the complaints."

"The complaints are useless, I judge my students without any prior knowledge."

Polarmare raised an eyebrow, "Does that include background checks because I thought UA prided themselves on those."

Aizawa gritted his teeth.

"If that is all, I need to get home to my family."

#polarmare #bnha writing #bnha fanfic #bnha ocs #bnha business course ocs #bnha management course ocs #aizawa is nezus favorite #aizawa critical #aizawa negative

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autumnslance · 3 years ago

Text

About Plagiarism

I left a long, planned essay on Twitter tonight. I will copy the meat of it here for y’all, as recently a friend was copied (a rarer ship in the fandom, so very noticeable by the writer and their regular beta reader) and it seems we need a Talk, kids. Links and screenshots and my rambling underway.

------

Apparently we need to discuss what is and isn’t plagiarism. Especially in FanFic where we're interacting with the same characters, settings, ideas. Let’s start with the dictionary and continue the thread from there (I like the word origin/history personally):

Definition of plagiarize

transitive verb : to steal and pass off (the ideas or words of another) as one's own : use (another's production) without crediting the source

intransitive verb : to commit literary theft : present as new and original an idea or product derived from an existing source

The Kidnapping Roots of Plagiarize

If schools wish to impress upon their students how serious an offense plagiarism is, they might start with an explanation of the word’s history. Plagiarize (and plagiarism) comes from the Latin plagiarius “kidnapper.” This word, derived from the Latin plaga (“a net used by hunters to catch game”), extended its meaning in Latin to include a person who stole the words, rather than the children, of another. When plagiarius first entered English in the form plagiary, it kept its original reference to kidnapping, a sense that is now quite obsolete.

“Ideas” is fuzzy in the Merriam-Webster definition. There are story archetypes that exist in many forms. Joseph Campbell’s Monomyth/Hero's Journey outlines many famous stories. And it's popular to say that “Avatar” is “Dances with Wolves” is “Pocahontas” is “The Last Samurai” etc.

But note how while those films have similar plotlines--”Military Guy falls for Native woman, learns to appreciate her Culture, stands up to Evil Bosses”--none of them execute those ideas in the same way. Sully’s story is different from Dunbar’s not just cuz one’s a Science Fiction epic and the other a Western. Disney's “Pocahontas” Very Loosely takes history and uses the same story beats. The Last Samurai uses the Meiji era Westernization. Same ideas, different executions, even beyond settings.

None of these are plagiarizing each other though the ideas are similar. They’re told in their own ways, own language; both in the genres they belong to (Western, Pseudo-History, SciFi, Animated) and how characters interact with each other and settings. Original dialogues (variable quality).

We also see this in books as similar novel plots get published in waves so we end up with bunches of post-apocalypse teen revolutionaries or various vampires or lots of young wizard stories all at once. Sometimes ideas just happen like this; multiple discovery, simultaneous invention, concurrent inspiration, cognitive emergence are all phrases I’ve seen for it. So it happens in original content as well, and legality gets fuzzy (Also why you don't send authors your fanfic ideas).

In existing properties, this gets trickier but even “Elementary”’s Holmes and Watson are nothing like the BBC’s “Sherlock” characters. Who are nothing like other versions of the Detective and his Doctor pal over the decades in various media properties.

FanFic's in a similar position where like Sherlock Holmes we play with the same characters, setting, and storyarcs but give our own spin to them. People can and will have similar ideas about plots. Trick is to use your own words. Take the characters and make the story your own.

I have a good example courtesy of @raelly-writing. We both ship Wolcred. We both wrote soft post-Paglth’an scenes with Thancred and our WoLs. Both features the couples helping each other undress, examining injuries, bathing, bantering. My fic was written soon after 5.5 part 1 came out. Dara’s is much more recent. Yet at no point reading hers did I feel she was copying my words. The PoVs differ. Our characters focus on different things. Mine has a mini-arc concerning the Nutkin.

The links for comparison’s sake (and maybe leave kudos/comments if so inclined please and thanks). Note while the scenes are very similar no phrases are written in the same way. Mine: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25417882/chapters/76059467 Dara’s: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067565/chapters/81832915

Dara and I both hang out in certain Discords and I know conversations about Thancred and WoL caring for each other post-battle has come up in those channels and we've both participated. It’s a stock FanFic scene to boot. Cuz it's soft and feels warm and snuggly.

I HAVE been copied before, back in WoW. My case is pretty clear cut so here are the images of my old RP Haven profile (1st, old RP website) and the plagiarist’s RSP (2nd, an in game mod to share descriptions and basic info).

This was a decade ago on Shadow Council and I think the character deleted so any Availa’s in WoW now aren’t the same person. I left the names to point out what changed. Just the names and a word or 2 to make sense for the class changes as well. Otherwise lifted directly from my RP profile.

The funny part is how the person got caught. Literally walked into our weekly RP Guild meeting that I was running and asked to join. Folks noticed right away the similar backstory; after all there may have been more Outland-born Azerothians. My initial excitement at a character I could weave into our story turned to gut-twisting rage and grief as I recognized my own exact words though. Words I’d carefully crafted and constantly iterated on to improve over time (before and after this incident, until the site died).

When caught they tried to claim their significant other had leveled the character for them and made up the backstory based on Skyrim. If you know WoW’s Outland story and Skyrim’s plot you know how ridiculous that is. Also tried to lie about other drama I knew about thanks to roommate's characters but hey. I had to be blunt that I’d shared the info with Haven mods and other guild officers Alliance and Horde. That we would not “laugh about this” one day though lucky this was “just” RP not original or academic work. Cuz if it'd been monetized or academic I would've raked them through the coals.

I felt violated. Hurt. Had anxiety attacks. They took MY WORDS and tried to claim them as theirs. Have another character born in Outland trained by Draenei; Awesome! Our characters have an instant connect in similarities and differences of that experience. Don’t steal my characters wholesale!

Then the audacity of trying to come into my guild as if no one would notice. ShC wasn’t a large server by then, still active but not nearly Wyrmrest Accord or Moon Guard big. My character was well known due to my writing and RP. Speaking of how easy it is to get caught in specific spaces...A case of a self-published novelist getting noticed for plagiarizing fanfic was discovered recently (explicit erotica examples through the thread).

One way they got noticed was how much content they put out in only a year, lifted from fandom. The examples in Kokom’s threads show how the material was altered but still recognizable. In some cases, just the names are changed as in my experience. In other passages more has changed but you can still see the bones of the original fic poking through in the descriptions and character interactions, even with adjustments made.

Similar ideas happen. Similar plots exist. Same 'ships with friends are fun! In FanFic we’re working with the same material. It’s possible to write a similar scene differently. To make that scene and characters your own. All we’re asking is not to copy others' words. Others' characters. Others' specific phrases and descriptions used to bring those words, those characters, to life. Use your own. In the end you’ll be happier.

I get wanting to have what the perceived “popular people” have. I get seeing concepts others succeed with and wanting some of that too. We all get a bit jealous now and then for various reasons. Sometimes we don't even realize it, consciously. But do it in your own way. Maybe check to see if you’re getting a bit too close to the “inspiration” you admired, maybe reread often. Don’t hurt your fellow creatives. If you do and get caught don’t try to double down. Have the grace to be abashed at least and work to do better. Eventually you WILL get caught. All it takes is once to throw all else you've done into question. Ao3 doesn’t take kindly to plagiarists. Nor do a lot of fan communities focused on writing and RP. Getting back that trust is hard. The internet doesn’t forget easily, for good or ill.

#writing #blogging #about me #social media #plagiarism #fanfiction #Ao3

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