#a couple were still alive and people i was meant to collect

[emypony]

so uh- pls elaborate on ce!hua x sim!hua im here for the agenda

Anon I hope ur still here and sorry i took this long but i just HAD to make something for them. (and also....barking and meowing, drawing Fu Hua oh my god..)

This got heckin lengthy so I will be putting my thoughts down below in a read more <3

I ended up with brainrot 🛐🙏 alas...let me elaborate!! This if ofc in the context if ER was repaired and with new tech they were able to give the sims each their own body to continue living on as a separate entity <3

I will differentiate them by Hua and Fu Hua since it's probably the easiest. And speaking of them

Fu Hua herself has gone through many battles over the years and has met a myriad of people, shaping her into the person that she's become. Grief, Joy, Despair and Relief over the years have eroded her into her most peaceful version yet, more calm and collected and sure of herself. Maaaybe a little cheekier than usual (Senti's attitude has been rubbing off on her, unfortunately) but it's never in a mean way.

All the while Hua herself while having gone through the same amount of years as her, has not got the chance to be so out and about, but got her fair share of interaction from the visitors and successors that came to the realm. Her frequent memory wipes did slow down her progress however, so she's still closer to the original 'Fu Hua' that she was created from so many years back.

Hua was always unsure of herself and what her future would hold, wondering if her real life self would be good enough (would she, as a sim?) but she's never felt like it herself. After all, she's just a copy and that's what she's supposed to be, right?

And yet now that she gets to SEE what the real Fu Hua became, with the inherent knowledge that she's still there and has survived on despite all her hardships (which she would eventually hear about, as Fu Hua vehemently denied syncing their memories, for more reasons than one), it made her be overwhelmed with a multitude of new feelings - relief, admiration, sadness for everything she's endured, hope? for the future, and a new one that she can't quite elaborate on (these new bodies sure feel vastly different from being a bunch of data in a non physical realm, and that includes feelings too)

Unlike herself, Fu Hua now displays great amounts of patience, coupled with the suffocating feelings of kindness and softness (? once again an inexplicable feeling - how can someone act 'soft'! that's a physical feeling and yet it felt like the best word to use)

Of course all their time eventually spent together leads for more feelings of both heartache and inexplicable self consciousness- after all, Hua is just a sim, created in Fu Hua's image (not that the thought ever bothered her, she'd accepted it as a reality as all the others). Now that she's got her own body however, she can't help but feel inadequate being there. Would she be a fighter proficient enough? Good enough to carry the burden of the same name and face? Would she be able to live up to her legacy, her name and her greatness? Could she ever achieve what she did or would she just forever be branded as a 'copy' and nothing else. Would it have been better off if she'd remained deleted by the Herrscher of Corruption? The others are after all...not there anymore, so there would be no confusion to be made. They could carry on their real life counterpart's legacies without issue- but she felt like she was just not meant to be there. Fu Hua was still alive, so why the need for her, too?

It all culminates one day after isolating herself for weeks and becoming more and more of a hermit. Not even Pardofelis could coax her to open up, so who better to work through Hua related issues than Fu Hua herself? It doesn't take long until Hua confesses her feelings in regards to the matter of her existence, and Fu Hua can't help but smile gently, thinking about the amusing parallels between this Hua and Senti.

Hua's skin is burning as Fu Hua takes her hand into hers, and addresses her with the same tenderness as raindrops falling after a hot day. She feels tears prick her eyes as Hua's talking, about how despite being made after her it was so so long ago that it isn't bad that she's different. Fu Hua wouldn't want her to take after her anyway, it's better off if she would just be her own person. There is no need to repeat Fu Hua's mistakes, just to become like her. She's not perfect, after all.

Hua may be derived from the same starting point as Fu Hua over 50 000 years ago, but so much time has passed, and the two of them ended up being shaped by people and circumstance differently, and now she has sort of become her own person. It would be unfair to her own self and legacy to attempt to be like Fu Hua. There's no more Honkai, they have achieved their goal and she'd fought just as valiantly as the others. And that is enough.

here's where my general thoughts stop, but I do have other more funny ones in regards to Senti (and by extension Pardo, because now with a soulium body I'd just put them together like cheese and crackers).

Senti's views on Sim!Hua are also funny because:

Fu Hua: old timer. antique. do NOT tell me we're alike i'm going to start foaming at the mouth. smh my head she cant get it together

Sim!Hua: absolute baby lmaooo look at her. okay she is kind of cute and pathetic. yeah ill help her shes funny (by being a wet sopping scrungly)

I just think they would be interesting friends, and maybe a bit of an easy target for teasing (especially once she finds out that she kinda has a crush on Fu Hua). Obviously enough, getting dating advice from a Herrscher who has never dated is going to end in disaster.

Senti and Felis get together (i swear this is for storytelling purposes this time), all is well and they enjoy each other. Seeing them be happy and such, Hua finally allows herself to think of the possibility of at least confessing. "Oh okay so…a sim(?) and a. real . ? person? (debatable) Herrscher? can be together so maybe i can at least confess… i want to get over this" Hua wouldn't delude herself into thinking that there could be any outcome of her feelings, after all Senti and Pardo's situation was somewhat different than her own.

As much as she hates it, Senti is unfortunately the only one who knows Fu Hua enough so...by extension of asking Felis she has to ask her too and its awfully embarrassing because of how much teasing she expects.

Senti's the first one to react and she goes "LMAO no WAY. Fu Hua?!?"

Felis hits her shoulder. "Senti, be nice !!! this is serious!!"

Senti can't help but almost double over in laughter, but recovers pretty quickly. "Out of everyone you could've chosen smh…sure fine, it''s whatever I'll help you."

Hua was a bit. skeptical. "You're…not doing this just to gloat and laugh at me if it doesn't work, right?"

Senti had half the mind to think better on it. "Eh…I would say maybe, but quite frankly I'll do ANYTHING if it means Hua will shut the fuck up and stop asking me how Felis and I are going. If you confessing to her will get her off my case I'm literally willing to throw petals from above for added effect"

Suddenly Hua doesn't feel that great about asking Senti for help. But what's done is done, so she might as well give her best. Senti goes "Don't worry I'll ease her about the thought" and goes to Fu Hua and asks "Hey so how much do you love yourself?" like with no fucking context. Funnily enough, Fu Hua thinks Senti is trying to talk to her about not sacrificing herself if things get dire, so she completely cuts her off before she elaborates any further and assures her that she will never put her duty before herself or her friends ever again, all of them can rest assured!

Needless to say Senti came back with nothing to show for it except words completely unrelated to what they needed. Hua herself can't help but go "wow, she really is different from me, she's matured so much and learned to prioritize herself" and can't help but feel like she likes her even more, to Senti's absolute disgust ("Good God, you're down bad"). Mission failed.

Senti turns to Felis, going "yeah you know what. they're perfect for each other."

Felis smiles and clasps her hands. "Aww that's so cute, do you mean they seem to be on the same page about feelings?"

"No i mean they're both incomprehensibly daft and delusional but yours works too, probably."

Enough about Hua, we should probably touch on Fu Hua's feelings for comparison. She feels a strange sense of wanting to protect Hua- maybe chalks it up to it reminding her of her past, lost and full of uncertainty about each following day, of losing more people and more sacrifices being made. But those are no longer pressing issues now, so why does she still feel like that, when Hua is clearly capable of defending herself if something comes to be? It's confusing, but she doesn't dwell on it for too much.

...well, until it does end up being on her mind a bit too much, so she can only go to the one person that would understand AND knows enough about the person in question - Felis! ....and by extension (and to her dismay) Senti as well. The two share a 'there's no way this is happening AGAIN' look with each other as Fu Hua is trying to explain her issue.

She confides in them briefly. "I've been having these...weird feelings towards er, Hua. I'm not sure but I find myself wanting to spend more time with her and I feel like I want to protect her. But there's no danger anymore and clearly she can defend herself just as well as anyone else...so why am I...?" she seems lost.

Senti makes a joke which Felis almost chokes to. "Maybe you like her?"

Fu Hua blushes and almost gives herself away. "W-What? N-no, I could never, I...s-she's me- well, not- not really anymore no but she was created from me at one point...that... that would be wrong wouldn't it?" Well. it wasn't an outright no, technically...

Senti continues. "Okay HYPOTHETICALLY...if she liked you back, would you confess?"

For once Fu Hua doesn't seem so shocked about it anymore, she seems almost...melancholic, as if she's thinking about something that's too far out of her reach. "Oh please...she's still got some of my traits and mannerisms...she would know better than to like the person she was made after..." she chuckles longingly. "She's probably got a stronger sense of justice and morals than I have right now, I certainly have mellowed out over the years." Senti sighs, and groans, and almost hits something.

"Oh my GODDD I am leaving. I cannot deal with this you're TOO DUMB!!" and just disappears away in a flash of black feathers. Fu Hua is confused and taken aback and Felis can do nothing but shrug her shoulders because she too wishes she could straight up disappear right now. These two were so different yet so alike and it was so frustrating how stupid they were about it.

---

I've yet to think about how they confess - I'll admit my thoughts stopped there as I got one tracked on doing art for them, but if I happen to figure something out, I might do another post. Idk if I would be able to do a little one-shot though...........unless?

Anyway if u've made it this far godspeed thank you for letting me talk about them 🙏 they're on my mind fr haha.

#honkai impact #fu hua #hi3rd #hi3 #honkai impact 3rd #anon #ask #this turned into a huge thing but i think i like it lol #AND i got a really nice fu hua out of it too!! #yippee thank you for asking godspeed #and this better not be someone from my server going on anon to ask bc godspeed im gonna get embarrassed lmao

[feverdreamsanddelusions]

9.2

prev @dragonfireridge

[tw nonhuman caretaker, caretaker turned whumper, whumper turned whumpee, psychological whump, captivity, threats of torture]

Whumper was guided and locked into one of the guest bedrooms before they could've collected their thoughts. The fact that they'd missed their chance of knocking out the person escorting them barely registered in their mind. All they could do was pace back and forth anxiously, pinching themself until their skin was red and tender.

How the fuck was Caretaker alive?

It only took a couple minutes before the devil appeared, and Whumper spun around and backed up until they hit the wall. This was real. This was actually real. "What's going on?" they choked out.

"Whatever do you mean?" Caretaker closed the door behind themself, taking their time locking it and sliding the key into their pocket.

Whumper had never admitted to the assassination out loud. They never knew who could be wired, which place could be bugged, it was better to just keep it a secret meant for the grave; and that habit was a hard one to break. "I– I mean... I've heard... I thought you... I've heard there was a, an accident..."

"Accident?" Caretaker stayed perfectly neutral as they surveyed Whumper's expression. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar."

"What happened to your face?" they blurted out. That was it. That was a good question.

"Why, you shot me. Don't tell me you shoot so many people that it all blurs together."

Whumper felt like they were going to be sick. "I didn't shoot anyone."

"So why the shock and the terror? Come on, now. You're amongst friends. Of all people, the two of us have an intimate understanding of what happened that day."

Caretaker slowly walked over, coming to a halt just a couple feet away from where Whumper was now cornered. Fuck, that scar was horrific. It wasn't one anyone should've been able to survive. This whole thing was impossible.

"Had you been kept in the dark, oh infamous rebel assassin? Did they not even tell you who any of us were?" The way Caretaker said that, it almost made Whumper feel like... they weren't human. Like Whumper should've known they were something separate, something more powerful... "Did you think no one had ever tried to kill us before you came along?"

"I... I didn't do anything... I'm just here to attend... attend a party..."

Caretaker laughed at that, hearty and genuine. "I do apologise, I'm sure the way you're looking at me right now is strictly due to the scar. I'm certain it has nothing to do with the failed attempt to murder me, since that most definitely wasn't you."

Whumpee shook their head frantically. "I, I don't know what you're talking about."

"And it wasn't you who put poison in the punch tonight."

"Someone poisoned the punch? That's– you ought to tell everyone–"

Caretaker looked endlessly amused by their pitiful attempt at masking their identity. "The guests have been alerted, don't you worry. But really, I can't believe we can't even have an honest conversation after having shared such an... intense experience. Tell you what; I share my secret, and you share yours. That seems like a fair deal."

"I have nothing to share, I'm afraid." Whumper was still glued to the wall, but they made an effort to relax a little. "I'm quite the open book. So unless you're interested in petty secrets from my childhood years–"

"Whumper..." Caretaker stepped even closer, and all of Whumper's previous efforts went out the window. They tensed up again, even holding their breath as Caretaker came within arm's reach. "I know you're curious. You want to know how I survived."

"I don't. I don't."

"Not if it means having to confess, hm?"

"I didn't do anything!" Whumper snapped, flinching when Caretaker raised a hand — but they didn't hit them. They put a finger against Whumper's lips for a brief moment, hushing them.

"Let me introduce your other option, then," they said softly. "I don't tell you anything. Instead I simply bring you down to the torture chamber and we spend an admittedly less pleasant time together, until you're ready to own up to your crimes. Would you prefer that?"

"I didn't do anything," Whumper repeated without thinking. "I didn't do anything... I, I came here for the gathering, I now find out I was close to drinking poisoned punch, I don't understand any of this–"

"Fine." Caretaker stepped back, and Whumper felt so lightheaded they thought they were going to collapse. "I must go back downstairs, I'm sure you understand. But don't worry; I fully respect your wishes. I will be back soon to make good on my promise."

#whump #whump drabble #nonhuman caretaker #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #psychological whump #captivity #threats of torture #res writes

[dreamersbcll]

Tolerate It

i take your indiscretions all in good fun

(this is who i am. do you still want me?)

——————————————————————————

Tara had never been good at subtlety.

Everything about her was erratic, chaotic, undone. She had never really been able to be calm, collected, even put together. Either things happened all at once randomly, or they never happened at all.

She could never truly get a grasp on what she wanted or what she needed to say. She held onto everything by the skin of her teeth, hoping she could let go and be caught by someone who would love her regardless of her maximalist style of living.

No one ever did. But it was a nice thought to have. Maybe, just maybe, somebody would save her from herself. She didn’t mean to be so callous, so weak, so fucking undone. She wanted to be able to shut up and close her dumb fucking mouth. All she ever wanted was to be collected, quiet, and orderly.

Just like Sam once was.

But Sam wasn’t here anymore.

And sinners couldn’t beg for the life that they had chosen.

It wasn’t really a surprise that she came out to her mother by blurting it out on the phone.

While at a pride parade.

With her girlfriend Amber at her side.

One moment, she was walking the streets of San Francisco with Amber in one hand and a lesbian pride flag in the other; the next, she was lying flat on her back in a whole parking lot, wheezing.

Tara knew that going to a pride parade was risky for numerous reasons. The crowds, the protestors, the fact she was a couple hours away from home- all daunting ideas. But with her girlfriend on her arm and her best friends trailing behind her, Tara almost felt okay.

She had spent three hours getting ready the morning off, setting out the clothes and makeup she had saved up for months at the foot of her bed. Like it was the first day of school, and Tara would have the best day. In a way, it was the first day of her life, the first day of stepping into the body she was always meant to be.

The atmosphere was otherworldly. Magical, maybe. Tara didn’t really have the words for it. She could feel her heart pounding, no, fluttering like she was lightweight and truly alive. She didn’t know that seeing people just like her was a possibility- that maybe she wasn’t alone in this vast world and there were people to love and accept her for who she was.

She knows that her parents, even her big sister, wouldn't.

But if a random drag queen could bend down and pepper her cheeks with kisses and place a pride flag into her outstretched hand with a wink, maybe it would all be okay.

Since she was eleven, Tara knew that something wasn't right. She didn’t have crushes on boys, and she didn’t want a boyfriend. Disney princess movies didn’t really make sense to her, and neither did a true love's kiss. How could her true love be a man? Tara didn’t need a man. She just needed her friends and family.

Tara didn't have her family, but she did get her friends. It was when she turned thirteen that she realized what was different about her—once she found out that Amber was dating Nick Perez. And it was when she turned fourteen that she whispered her secret to Mindy and cried in her arms after.

At sixteen years old, Tara confessed her feelings, and it turns out Amber felt the same. It was fate.

Fate was good for a while. Naturally, she had to hide everything about herself from her mother- as being queer in a Latin family was a sin worse than murder. Tara could be a pedophile or go to prison for attacking someone- but it would never match up to the crime of being gay.

God loved her. But God couldn’t save her from temptation. Tara had to do that herself.

How could she do that when temptation felt so good? Not being herself would be choosing an early grave, one dug by her own hands. She knows that gay people don’t go to heaven, and they aren’t saved by God’s divine hand. She knows that she is destined for an eternity in hell, flame and terror forever.

But she couldn’t help herself.

Nobody could make her happy like Amber or make her laugh hard and true. Her girlfriend’s kisses felt like her heart was sewn back together, her touch erasing the ruler slaps and bruised knees. Despite Amber’s quick anger and brooding silences, the girl loved Tara like she was brand new. It gave Tara a reason to live, to keep going.

Maybe God would accept her. Maybe he wouldn’t smite her. Maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay.

And then her phone rang while she walked the rainbow-covered streets of Sin City. Christina Carpenter. The devil all the time in Tara’s life, the bearer of all things evil. Her mother was supposed to be on a two-week work trip out in Switzerland or Poland. Somewhere far away.

Yet Christina Carpenter always knew when something was wrong in her household. Somehow, that woman always knew. It was as if she could sniff the gay on Tara, the sin of flesh and lust. The same evil that she forced Tara to pray on her knees to absolve.

Tara wasn’t sure if the bruises on her knees or the lacerations on her heart would ever truly fade. All she knew was sinning, and all she wanted was to be forgiven.

She almost was. But despite Amber’s pleas for Tara not to answer the phone, Tara still did. Who was she to turn down the woman who gave her life, gave her the body she was destined to be? She could never say no to her mother. Blood was blood.

Even if her mother spilled most of Tara’s blood without a care.

She shakily raised the phone to her ear, swallowing hard. “Mom?”

Cold and unforgiving, Christina dug in. “¿Dónde estás? Tu teléfono dice que no estás en casa. ¿San Francisco, Tara? Explícate.”

Tara closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. Amber had pulled her into an empty parking lot, forcing Tara to sit down and breathe. Though her girlfriend could be rash and unforgiving, she still loved Tara, and it showed in moments like these.

“Mami, I, I’m out with my friends. Hay una "cosa" en San Francisco. I’ll be home later,” she slowly said, trying to breathe.

While her mom screamed in her ear about “skirting her responsibilities” and “spending the money she made for her ungrateful ass,” anger started to bubble up in Tara’s stomach.

She was so tired of being the punching bag. The scapegoat. The pincushion. The hangman of the Carpenter family. Fuck that. People like her surrounded her. Tara wasn’t alone. She had a support system. Fuck what her mom thought. Tara had a taste of freedom, and she wouldn’t let it go.

“Mami. I’m gay—a lesbian. I’m a lesbian,” she said coldly, cutting off her mother’s venomous rant.

A beat passed. Silence filled Tara’s ears besides the sound of a lively community around her. Her mother said nothing, only her breathing signaling Tara that she hadn’t hung up.

Tara swallowed uncomfortably, her hands shaking. She could feel her body grow light, signaling an asthma attack. Her breathing picked up, and though Amber looked so proud and smug, she could sense what was coming. Her girlfriend held her hand and nodded to Tara, mouthing I Am Proud Of You.

She didn’t know why she did what she did. It was rash and without thought. She loaded and folded the gun, shooting blindly, thinking that she would win and be free.

Freedom. That was never in the cards for her. She would always be the little girl begging for her mami’s attention, her love. But her mother never gave her that, only bruises and tears in her heart. Her mother took everything and offered nothing in return- and she did it with a smile on her face.

And once again, her mother did what she did best. Callously, Christina replied, breaking Tara’s heart for the umpteenth time.

“Tú no eres mi hija. Soy una madre sin hijos. No vengas a casa.”

Click.

Tara looked up at her eager girlfriend, her phone slipping out of her hand. Water welled in her eyes, hot tears washing off the glitter she had fearlessly painted onto her cheeks earlier. The pride flag she had held onto so tightly fell out of her hand, tumbling onto the ground. The colors shined back up to Tara, a previously safe place, now tainted.

She was so stupid. So stupid. She had promised herself to wait, to hold back. Coming out while in high school was a stupid idea- she had to wait until she was out and free like Sam was.

But she couldn’t help herself. She had to ruin every good thing she ever touched and taint it with the same beast that lived inside of her.

Amber reached for Tara’s face, ignoring how the girl flinched at the effort. She cupped her girlfriend’s face, rubbing at the ruined glittery makeup.

“What happened, honey? Are you free?” she whispered, smearing the rainbow that took Tara an hour to create.

Tara closed her eyes, letting her girlfriend wipe away the pride that would be the death of her anyway.

“She doesn’t want me anymore,” she half-sobbed, her heart-shattering.

She just wanted her mami. Her mami was all she had left of a broken family line. Tara just wanted her mami to love her, to want her.

That’s all she wanted.

Her girlfriend tilted her head, eyes dark. “Did she ever?” she carefully replied, her thumb smearing glitter down Tara’s face.

Flinching violently at the words, Tara curled in on herself, her hands going to her chest, nails digging into the flesh that lay above the collarbone. Amber was right. Who could ever leave her? Who could stay?

Who could ever want a tainted little girl anyway?

She whimpered, holding onto her aching heart. “I don’t know. But I didn’t want her to leave.”

Amber shook her head. “Then you were the stupid one to believe things could be different. That she could love you even though you’re a dyke. This one’s on you, Tara.”

And with that, her girlfriend walked off, presumably to find something to drink. Tara curled up on herself, her body lying on the ground, the scalding pavement burning her skin down to her bones.

It was time to practice for her afterlife anyway.

#scream #tara carpenter #fuck christina carpenter club #queer tara carpenter #lesbian tara carpenter thank you very much #coming out in a latino household… good luck #queer latinos </3 #scream gi #ao3 author

[elegantduelliste]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

After Tav gleans information about a hunter looking for Astarion, tempers flare over a discussion.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 11: Prey

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 5.5k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexual Language, Blood, Slight CPTSD, Cazador, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

When it comes to considering your choices about who will best serve your final act, you must do so with a principled eye. There is nothing you cannot hold with the strength of your palms, if you prioritize your needs to exceed others. Tavelle Swiftchoir is one such case. Happening upon her at the precise moment I knew I was meant for more in this life, must be have been my fate. I do love her—as much as any man could—I suppose. But, my ambitions are the mistresses that I will always love more.

— Algos, private journals 1477DR

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

She had invited a killer into her bed.

The fox that lured the songbird with his knifed teeth under a cunning smile. And, oh, did he deliver on his vow to pounce upon her when the time came. Filling her with perfect geometric precision. Gnawing at her skin until it bled into his mouth. Marking her body with his scent. Without mercy, did Astarion knead her flesh with his paws. Pulling. Teasing. Encouraging her to let go and live for their lust. An animalistic joining that tricked her senses until she ruptured with white hot visions.

Afterwards, Tav woke several times to find him vacant from her side. Once, she saw him pacing around the vicinity of their finished coupling, restless with thought. Another time, he was leaning back against the tree he had held her against, captivated by the glittering stars. Later, she caught him peeking at her through those plume-like lashes—she wanted to adore with kisses—attentively watching her.

And then came the rising sun that saturated his body. The only entity considered alive by the ancients that gave the vampire any sense of relief. He revered under its lustrous glow easier than a person dedicated to serving the Morninglord. It was possibly one of the few times the bard found the aged lines on his face to be ironed out over his cadaverous skin.

“Oh, petal. Are you looking for a potion to subdue a future quickening in your womb?”

Tav turned to face Ethel, breaking her sight from the overhanging herbs in the quaint shop. She suddenly felt weak as the blood left her face. A figment of an ache pierced through her lower abdomen. Did she know about—?

“Um. Excuse me?!”

“Pardon me for mentioning it, but Auntie Ethel can always sense these sorts of matters. Your lover’s scent is all over you! You had quite the busy night, didn’t you?” The old woman turned towards her table to sift through her collection of potions. “Let me see which of these will poison his seed.”

His scent?! Oghma be fucked sideways. Tav wanted to curl up inside herself and perish. Just how many people did she come into contact with today that were being oh-so-polite enough not to mention that she STILL smelled like sex and a godsdamned vampire!

The bard turned a deep shade of red, rivaling the fruits in the Daleland farms. She bit her inner cheek uncomfortably. “He didn’t even—I mean, no, I didn’t come here for anything like that. Hells. I was looking for scrolls. A ‘Scroll of Lesser Restoration’ to be more specific.”

Spells to fill her with renewed vigor after Astarion drank her blood. Ones that she would need to stock up on given both of their encouragements for him to feed on her. She could feel his fangs seducing her skin in her waking hours and the compliance of his bite that she pined for to experience a nearness she had only known since meeting him.

Ethel halted her fussing over the bottles. Tav briefly wondered what sort of concoctions were in each of them—considering how eccentric the brewmaker seemed to be. “I’m afraid I don’t have much here other than what you see. Tieflings bought up a majority of my potions and lotions, but if you ever need a special elixir to get someone on their arse, I can help you—for a price of course!”

“That’s right! They’ll be needing supplies for their upcoming journey in the future,” she nodded to herself remembering the group spoke about traveling soon. “Well, regardless, your help was much appreciated. I should probably check out another merchant here in the grove then. Please take care of yourself, Ethel.”

“Deary! Just one more thing before you head off,” Ethel grabbed Tav’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I don’t typically hand out information for free, but since this shitehead has loitered around far too long without giving me coins, there’s a hunter looking for a vampire spawn by my teahouse southwest of here. And since you have those fresh bite marks on your neck, you may wish to warn your sweetheart that trouble is afoot.”

Her heart started to race. “A vampire hunt—”

“That plausibly explains why the two of you left the forest this morning exactly 10 minutes apart from each other,” a familiar voice boldly announced.

In the bard’s peripherals, she noticed Shadowheart’s physique standing off to her side. Stony as usual.

She pressed a small donation of coins into the older lady’s palm. “My thanks Ethel. Excuse me while I go handle some mess I probably made.”

They stepped away from the strange woman’s canopied storefront. There was clearly an important subject pulling at the Sharran worshiper’s mind, but Tav knew to dismiss her concerns until Shadowheart was ready to offer her thoughts openly.

“Do carry on, I’m not one to judge,” the cleric grinned.

“Nor should you after what I saw you doing with Wyll last night,” Tav snidely remarked.

“Can you blame me? The man sure has a way with his tongue.”

The bard laughed at her cocky declaration and gestured for them to start roaming to a different section of the hallow.

There was a stark contrast of sounds that now filled the grove from when they first arrived. Music could be heard echoing off the halls of splendid columns of rock. Children ran around with gay frolics, no longer bearing the weight of their guardian’s anxieties or the fear they carried from their narrow vanishing act in Elturel. Peace had been obtained. Even should it only be temporary.

“Enough about my night. What about you and Astarion? How cozy did the two of you really get?” Shadowheart probed, following closely behind Tav.

Astarion. The name that made her stomach burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies and surged her to pick off their wings simultaneously. A cursed word that stalled the process of her verses when it imprinted across her brain. An epithet calligraphed in each colony of her supple pale flesh, now an elegant bundle of scribbles penetrated inside of her aroused heat.

Tav was thoroughly smitten.

But, these admissions blurred lines. Astarion, for all his contemptuous sass, was right. They knowingly consented to be in each other’s bed. Though, she wondered if it really was so awful to yearn for his touch? For him to open one of the many pockets she had sealed shut to feel the sympathy and intimacy of another? Even should she continue to question if he sincerely wanted her companionship, wrangling his truth from those troubled garnet globes had put her at a stalemate. No, what they had—what they clung to—remained in the plane of circumstance.

She stopped abruptly, lifting her brow in curiosity at her inquisitor, clearly avoiding the topic. “I thought you had no interest in us becoming ‘friendly.’”

“I think after what we’ve been through thus far, trust is a bit unavoidable between the two of us. Besides, isn’t that how friendships start?”

They both smiled. The kind that had begun in a puddle of undistilled water, only to reverb with each dip of a raindrop.

“Knew you’d give in eventually,” Tav couldn’t help but tease, remembering how her first impression of Shadowheart had fallen rather flat. This was a welcome amendment.

The cleric leisurely planted her hands on either side of her hips. “Shush. Now answer the bloody question before I ask my Lady to inflict pain upon you to thrash out your answer,” she beamed mischievously.

“You can’t smell him on me?”

Shadowheart deadpanned her. “What in the realms are you talking about?”

Tav immediately felt shy. Her voice became soft-spoken. “Oh, uh, nevermind. But, to answer your question, we got…closer.”

“Closer. Uh huh. You’re hardly a celibate maiden. Have you also forgotten how much I value secrecy? Spill,” she smirked, most assuredly already knowing the answer.

We were intimate and it was beautiful.

We were intimate and it was confusing.

We were intimate and he seemed like he was withdrawn at times.

She swallowed down her doubts with a bright gleam and a coral shade creeping upon her ears. “Well, we ended up having sex last night.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard. Or maybe it was in Astarion’s case,” the dark haired beauty joked.

“Shadowheart! This is exactly why I had vowed to keep my trap shut,” the bard said mortified.

This was nice. A fresh start to their friendship already filled with laughter. Shadowheart had quite the different personality from Karlach. She possessed dry wit over the tiefling’s brazen humor, but it was a decent icebreaker to extend faith in her direction. They needed this; Tav needed this.

The only other person she developed a meager amount of trust in was Astarion. And even then, she questioned her ruling on that. She wanted to blend in, to give her companions a glimpse of her fragility and the cold nightmares she flew away from, but her wings were still so laden with scars beneath latticed barbules.

Straying to the world inside her, Avoiding the king of her hells. She’s damned if she does and damned if she doesn’t, It’ll all be over when the long night vanishes into the dawn.

“Do me a favor and keep this between us gals?” She apprehensively asked. “Karlach will figure it out on her own because she’s—well, Karlach—but I feel like it would mean a lot to Astarion if I kept details to a minimum.”

“Though, I suspect the others may think we’ve already been involved for quite some time,” she added under her breath.

Admiring Shadowheart’s posture, she watched her nod her elegant head in agreement. The woman always managed to be so poise and confident unlike the melancholic hum she kept stitched behind her breast.

“Oh, they certainly do. I think it was Gale that asked first if you two were sleeping together yet. He was quite flustered over the whole ordeal because he has some personal issues with our local biter—not in a love triangle jealousy sort of way—but those are for him to sort out,” the cleric shrugged.

She crumpled her forehead, continuing her thought. “But, to put your fears to rest, you need not even ask. What happens behind the flap of your tent with Astarion is your business. The only thing I’ll say is: be safe with him. There’s dangers that come with vampires, but he seems…frail under the surface. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Shadowheart flashed her a concerned expression. Maybe the first Tav had truly seen from their mysterious devotee. She saw it too, his brittle self underneath the hedonistic facade.

“Now, aside from gossiping about our recent intrigues, I was actually looking for you to discuss an important matter. Do you have time to spare?”

Tav refocused on Shadowheart. “Hmm? Yes, I do. Come with me while I search for some scrolls? We can talk on the way.”

“Perfect. I’ll get right to it. Gale mentioned the conversation you both had with Halsin about a Temple of Shar in the Underdark. If—if there’s any possibility this has to do with Dark Justiciars, I will need to go there as soon as possible,” she assertively announced.

“Dark Justiciars? I vaguely know about them. Actually, there’s a fair bit I don’t know about worshippers of Shar—save for rumors.”

Shadowheart looked around them carefully, a degree of caution present by her mannerisms. “Here, connect with my tadpole. It’s safer this way. People are typically hesitant towards those that take up with the Mistress of the Night.”

Minds connected. Voices vibrated in echoes off their brains as the worms wriggled around in excitement, as if they were at a playground.

”Dark Justiciars are the most elite society of faithful to our Lady. It is an absolute honor should you be called upon to enter this sect of the priesthood. I have been preparing my whole life to become one, but my mother forbade it. Not my actual mother, but the Mother Superior in Baldur’s Gate.”

”I can imagine how important this would be to you then. What of the dangers? Anything we would need to worry about beforehand?”

There was a sudden hiccup in their link due to Shadowheart hissing in pain. “Ow! It hurts! Sorry—this is an old wound. I’m not sure why, but my Lady placed it there.”

The bard’s eyebrows knitted sympathetically at the blotted blemish on her hand. “As this may be none of my concern, understand when I say this, I do so because I care, but, that’s kind of screwed up to place on a worshiper if that’s true.”

The Sharran cleric paused as if to reassure herself. “I do not question the fate our Dark Lady has in store for me—not that I would know anyways. My memories have been heavily suppressed. The only thing I remember is the mission to steal the artefact from the gith with the group I was with; I’m the only one that made it out alive.”

Tav was unsure how to answer. Shar seemed to be a sinister deity dressed up as liberation for those following a path of nihilism: a religious cult of voided emotions. Except, by the time the goddess had the pious within her clutches, they were near husks of their former selves.

“And that dream visitor from the prism seems to be helping keep our transformation at bay from what we’ve gathered. I trust you will keep it safe in the meantime?” Tav canvassed, placing a hand on Shadowheart’s shoulder.

“With my life.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The hum lingered from her mouth like fresh humidity on a summer's eve.

Tav tapped her finger on the spread map from their present location in camp, down to the assumed position of Ethel’s home, measuring a likely distance. The vampire hunter needed to be confronted swiftly before a stake was driven through Astarion’s chest and his fangs kept as a souvenir. It would be smarter to approach said foe during the highest point of the sun, since it was probably not common knowledge their vampire was now able to walk in the daylight.

A mighty hunter came, With quiver and bow for his game. Through the spaces of bones they empierce, To feed on the hunted riches so fierce.

Around two days worth of travel, She thought wearily. Someone has a target on him, but who? Cazador? The family of an old victim?

Depending on the answer, was she prepared to take his side in the matter? Shouldn’t the loved ones of his past sacrificial lambs be justified in holding Astarion to a jury of the people? Who was anyone to tell them no? To dismiss the everlasting grief they would take to their own coffins for a lover she barely knew.

But, all these actions were commanded in the name of the bishop of blood: Cazador Szarr. He was the one to send the spawn away on his tyrannical missionary work. Blessing them with rat’s essence swishing in their bellies. Promising, always promising, he would allow them to feed on their master.

Astarion had no will—no choice—to enact on his own. Cazador’s brand was imprinted in their veins to ordain them with the master’s ownership before worshiping him with tithes of victims. Having a moral conscience meant nothing when someone was in control of the hunk of pulp and sinews that was your body. It was bade to fuck, capture, and think only for their exalted master.

And then, there were other parts of Astarion that stole her breath away. His curls of evening stars that she climbed upon with the galactic swirls of her fingertips. The man whose odes of affections stuck to her like crystallized honey. He who she continued to search for in the sea of shades.

She realized all of these notions—these damnable thoughts—ended in one question that tightened around her, cutting off her circulation: Would she kill for him?

“There you are my little treat.”

A familiar pair of hands, ones that murdered her with tiny deaths in the moonlight, encircled around her waist, spinning her around.

The vampire held her close, moving his mouth closer to hers, before changing direction to place a sloppy kiss to the side of her neck.

“I’d wondered where you ran off to. It’s been a little over half of a day and I missed your face already. Have you resumed your escapades as ‘the hero of the wilds’ or did my quirks frighten you away?” He murmured gleefully into her skin with a sly grin.

She suddenly felt bashful. Wanted by him. Every negative misgivings she ever had about his feelings towards her washed away, leaving her with buckled knees. When he placed his hand on her lower back, perching his pads on the warm skin there as if she belonged to him, she silently masked her nervousness.

Her hands found his biceps to rest upon, lightly gasping as he placed another playful peck on her lobe. “Mmm. I—I missed you too,” she replied faintly under her breath.

“Tell me about your day.”

“There’s a smith we met named Dammon in the grove that is willing to help cool Karlach’s engine if we find more infernal iron. ‘Starion, she looked so happy at the prospect of being able to touch someone again. I wish you could have been there to see.”

“Well, good for her and the bedfellow she may snap in half!” He said merrily, stumbling further into her.

“Are you alright?” She asked grinning at his fumble. “Oh, while I have you here, there’s something I need to—wait, are you drunk? I’ve never seen you so…chipper!”

He giggled. Actually fucking giggled like a child being tickled to death. “I have drunk. A lot. Would you believe that I found a bear to drain all of his blood from? Don’t worry, I’m sure it wasn’t one of those druids playing animal dress-up—or at least I hope. Can never be too sure with those leaf shitters. Ha!”

Tav laughed with him, smelling the fresh soaps in his hair. “I didn’t know vampires could get drunk or whatever this might be called. Vamprunk? Undrunk?”

“You’re truly the most insufferable woman,” he lifted up to look at her with a pout.

The songstress chuckled softly. She noticed his cheeks and ears had a light dusting of frosted pink on them. “So, a bear’s blood not only got you drunk, but also caused your skin to react with this adorable mortal shade?”

“Adorable? I am a beautiful and sensuous vampire; not a shawl you’ve knitted together,” he tutted. He leaned down to nuzzle his lips in the hollow of her throat. “But, I will say this, a bear will never compare to the vintage delicacy of your blood.”

Tav sighed, running strands of silvery-white through her hands. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food?”

She could feel him opening his mouth to suck on her peach-like flesh. The flat of his tongue laid around the zone he wanted to worry with a few very slow preliminary licks.

“And hasn’t anyone ever told you that a prey that sings your name from their lips is worth the hunt?” He drawled, as if the answer itself didn’t even need a question to proceed it.

With an eager-like magic rising up, the length of his half-erect cock rubbed into her thigh. Her breath hitched when memories of him sliding the crown of it against her aching clit filled her thoughts. Gods, he was out to destroy her. And she would allow him to do so. Anything to feel this longing inside of her sated by his closeness.

He suctioned her skin into his mouth, suckling bursting blood vessels to the surface, leaving a bruised mark. His mark in an area everyone would surely point out. She shivered thinking about belonging to him in this way. Belonging to him at all. Tav reacted by pulling tufts of his hair, earning her a growl. The tadpole swam around in a frenzy from her roused craze, nearly begging her to connect with his own.

A forced heavy cough interrupted them. Astarion stopped his patronage to her neck glancing over at a very stern looking githyanki shaking her head at them.

“Ah, Lae’zel. Did you want to join in? I’m sure your taste has quite spice to it,” he jested, straightening his posture.

“I will not repeat myself on keeping those teeth of yours away, Astarion.” Her golden eyes flickered between him and the blushing bard still hanging onto his arm for support. “He tears apart your flesh and now your body? Had he not already made his claim for your blood, I may have chosen to take you for my own. Now, if you mean to mate, go elsewhere to feast so I can meditate in peace. This is not a suggestion.”

Tav ducked her head into his chest in humiliation. She could feel his chest rumble when he spoke again. “Don’t worry sweetheart. We’ll be sure to come gather your freckled cuddly self up if we decide to make love on a pile of corpses. I know you wouldn’t want to miss out on the fun!”

Lae’zel shot him a final warning by running her index finger across the expanse of her throat, as if to threaten him with a finality to his undeath should he continue. She returned to her tent, ignoring his afterthoughts casted at her, without another word.

“Well, I should at least be grateful it wasn’t her I started flirting with in that temple instead of you. I’m sure I’d have a leash around my throat and serve as her personal footstool by now. Happy accidents!”

Tav reflexively slapped his arm jokingly. “I may have considered coming to save you from your misery.” She stepped back a few inches from him, biting at her lip circumspectly. “Shadowheart and probably Karlach know. I guess Lae’zel now too. Probably everyone else, if we’re being honest about this—ahem—us.”

The spawn grabbed her chin gently, his head tilted. “Darling, your body is doused in my scent. They would be bigger imbeciles than I originally imagined if they didn’t pick up on that fact alone.”

She smiled fondly at him.

He wasn’t embarrassed by her.

What a wonderful feeling.

“Ethel said the same thing earl—oh gods! Of course. Come here,” she turned back around to stare down at the map on the table, pointing towards a location. “Tomorrow morning, we will start heading here. And you will need to come with me this time.”

Astarion moved to stand next to her. “If we’re headed down there to collect some ridiculous item because so and so’s mother’s cousin’s father liked them, then I would rather spend my day actually trying to persuade Lae’zel to let me bite her.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I wish it were as simple as that, but we unfortunately may have an issue on our hands—concerning you.”

“The attention is on me for once? Now I’m intrigued. Go on,” he smirked.

Her head turned to focus on him while he still studied the map. “Do you remember that elderly woman, Auntie Ethel? When I was out shopping, she approached me about a hunter searching for you near her teahouse. It seems they’ve only been there for a short time, but Astarion, do you know of anyone that may have discovered your location so quickly?”

The habitual breathing he kept at a constant, ceased. Muscles visibly strained in his neck. Tav noticed his jaw clamped tightly shut, enough to fracture the ivory of his teeth. Bead-sized drops of sweat surfaced at his temple.

“Cazador. ”

“Your former master,” she affirmed. Tav tried to remain calm, as she watched Astarion become paralyzed with fear and an overwhelming desire to exact his revenge. “So, we’re possibly dealing with a hunter-for-hire situation.”

“Honestly, I expected one of his lackeys to show up much sooner,” he commented harshly.

Concerned for his mental state, she placed a caring hand on top of his that had been plastered against the map. He flinched, pulling away from her immediately. Scarlet eyes rapidly swarmed at nothing in particular as he started to pace uncomfortably.

“You know, for the first time in my very shitty existence as a puppet, I obtained and earned the freedom to do as I please. And I can’t get there without first becoming powerful enough to grind Cazador to dust. Having power will give me everything I need! I’m embracing our squirmy tenants for all their worth,” he muttered almost in a daze.

Tav’s heart clenched tightly. Memories don’t easily fade away, not after years of loss and torment. The road had bushes of nettles that scraped against anyone that searched for respite with each step forward. It contained unexpected hardships that caused those who sought analeptic blessing, to falter back to the comforts of living in the shadows of their trauma.

Sometimes, it was easier to claw out one’s own grave than face the ghosts that put them there.

Her voice was soft like rabbit’s fur. “I understand you’ve been through unimaginable strife being under Cazador’s command—you do deserve what’s best for you—but do you think having power is the end all be all answer? I’m not referring to using such a thing against him, in particular, but in the general sense.”

Astarion halted all at once, contorting his brow in her direction as if she asked him a dumb inquiry. “Well, of course! Look at the world around you dearest and tell me I’m wrong. It wasn’t the champions of the Sword Coast or deities that came to my rescue: it was mind flayers.”

He wasn’t wrong. But, still—

“Exalting power for power alone leads down a bastardized road most won’t return from. You will never live the life you deserve if you decide to go down it. And you have the right to claim much more than what that path could grant you. But, right now, you can choose to live a better life,” she challenged.

“The better life I deserve? You mean as in pet bunnies and that sort of thing. I won’t object to being nice, but only after I have the power to bend others to my will,” Astarion sneered.

“I know that seems objectively tempting, but there’s different kinds of power that will provide you with an actual life instead of walking the tightrope of an autocrat. You can grasp power through learning about yourself, healing, finding things you truly care about. The list is endless,” she continued patiently, attempting to reason with him.

He laughed mockingly at her, shaking his head in disagreement. “Well, that sounds much less fun! These tadpoles can help us influence others: manipulate them to do as we please. They could help us with far more than we’ve even scratched the surface on. It was a gift given to us and I’d rather stick to a power well-received instead of wasting it on cheap tricks.”

What was this? She folded her arms against her chest—a natural gesture to guard herself from unpleasant discussions—deep in her process of thought. Astarion had no one by his side in over 200 hundred years. He was forced to live in the sickness inside. All he saw was the trajectory of power and the tilled promises of its vile seeds. A consistent fact that has proved to be true in his former darkened world since time immemorial.

She had this conversation before. In a previous life; a different situation. And she could feel that sticky clamminess seducing the baby fine hairs at the nape of her neck. He was here, as was his wont to show up when her past wounds wanted to be alive. Algos. With hushed tones, reminding her of why he chose her. Her role in his life. The crowned archfiend, burning flames in places he favored—her unwavering conviction most of all.

“Hells, what’s wrong now?” Astarion asked discontentedly, shaking her out of her onset neurosis.

“N—nothing. You just sound so much like him…,” she paused. “Be ready first thing in the morning.”

He reached out to grab her arm as she turned from him. “Hold on. Just like who?”

“Forget it. I screwed up saying that and I’m truly sorry. You’re not him. No one will ever be him. Goodnight Astarion.” Tears welled up in her ducts. She was unable to tell him. It was too vulnerable of a subject.

The tone in his larynx shifted to a balmy breeze and she could feel his thumb rubbing a relaxing circle over the sleeve of her shirt. “I asked who?”

“Who isn’t the problem; it’s what you’re saying,” she replied combatively, trying to dissuade him from pressing further.

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to indulge you on this, but why not save us the time and get straight to the point? You’re obviously dissatisfied with me.”

Tav felt ill. Unable to look him directly in the face. He wasn’t going to let this go and mayhaps he had every right not to. She unintentionally baited him with her comments and knowing Astarion’s innate penchant for dramatics, did not serve her well in the moment.

“Is that was this is between us?” Tav motioned back and forth with her hands. “Not a short-term amusement to take our minds off our troubles, like you said, but a con to use me as a pawn in your vision of power? Is that what we all are to you?”

Algos wanted to ascend beyond the cards dealt to him in life and he got it. He dragged everyone down with him into the pits of despair. Taking and taking and taking until those closest to him became shriveled up versions of themselves. Until the day was right for him to grasp that which was more precious to him than love, honor, or devotion: power absolute.

“Look at you, such a chatterbox tonight. Has the tadpole eaten away more of your brain? Your words, my sweet.”

She bristled under his intentional deflection. “You just gave me a speech about your desire to control others if the opportunity arose. What am I supposed to think? I don’t know what to believe with you sometimes.”

Releasing her arm, she noticed his lips twitching. He was upset. “Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

“Astarion, you pull me in with your overbearing charms, then you talk about things like this. Did you even listen to anything you said tonight? Using others for your own means? To get what you want, right? What happens to them be damned, right?” The bard’s blood was boiling and her emotions were scattered, whipping them out one after the other. “And, gods, we had sex last night! I let you fuck me because I stupidly thought you liked me. Despite the agreement we have and despite knowing the risks involved. I’m a fool. Maybe even a bigger fool for starting to feel—”

The vampire was unnervingly silent. His hand dropped away from her and he widened his eyes as her revelations spilled out.

Tav knew a part of her was projecting, but she also knew some of her concerns were warranted. All her earlier qualms about Astarion and her past she could never entirely escape from, blinded her. She had hungered like a madwoman for mutual intimacy, and here she was, finally lifting the veil for him to see a shred of what lies in the dusk of her heart, and it was leading to her own crucible.

“It would seem I’ve failed your morality checks for the night. All this bickering and we aren’t even officially lovers,” he responded cynically. “I’m not like you, songbird. I’m not the kindhearted fool running amok to cater to everyone’s needs. You already knew this about me before we slept together. But, if this has suddenly become a problem for you, then I’ll concede to your expert decision-making.”

Hells, what just happened?

Astarion wasn’t wrong; she did know about his unsavory idiosyncrasies. And yet, she still allowed him to crawl inside of her, gnashing his sharp canines, baying throughout her arteries. She stood before him in atrophy, ashamed and hurt, with a bullet lodged in her chest wondering if her decisions with him had been a mistake.

“I don’t know what happened to you in the past, but you’re right, I’m not him. So, Tav, I'll ask only once: what are we doing?”

She swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate #astarion x tav #bg3 tav #tav #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion acunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #epistles of saints & sinners #bard tav #spawn astarion #female tav #fem!tav

[respectthepetty]

The Story of Young Master & A Fool

Something about the episode starting with Nueng and Palm changing their clothes in separate areas away from each other, only to end with them easily taking of their clothes in front of each other to symbolize them laying it bare and being comfortable with each other and their true selves...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

*turns on "Heart to Break" by Kim Petras*

And when you touch me, I'm a fool This game I know I'm gonna lose

Palm comforted Nueng with touch several times throughout the episode to reinforce that he was there and not going anywhere, yet this was the one time Nueng finally gave into touching Palm!

And Palm is submerged in happiness because of it. One touch initiated by Nueng, and Palm is gone. Nueng warns Palm to not expect much from him (residual grief from his parents placing expectations on him and feeling like he is disappointing them?), but Palm tells Nueng he already sees the best in and of him, much like Nueng told Palm he wasn't afraid of him when he saw his raw reaction to Nueng getting hurt. They have seen each other at their worst and still like those parts.

Nueng, in fact, likes all of Palm's parts. He is staring at Palm, respectfully "FUCK! Seriously?! It's like you're photoshopped!"

Nueng always flips the dynamic and tries to serve his servant, but Palm gladly gives in this time because he finally has the upper hand on the beach where Nueng is constantly out of his element.

Please, baby Jesus with the historically accurate skin tone, LET THEM GET TATTOOS! Let them be basic boys and get them in Mandarin! I need more tattoos for the collection. María, if your son gives me a scene of them getting tattoos, I will make a budget instead of just telling people I'm on a budget to avoid doing stuff I don't want to do. *sign of the cross*

Cool tones vs. Warm tones. Cold stares vs. Warm stares. Hate vs. Love. But one thing remains the same - Wherever Nueng goes, Palm follows.

This is the buddy comedy I want! The way Tam was screaming for Mam to run was the best friend energy we all need in our lives. Then, Mam is such a mess, but girl, same. I'm not cooking. I'm making the rich boy work. I'm okay with you smoking pot with your boyfriend, but I draw the line at you being his bodyguard. I refuse to dislike a woman with this much audacity.

Palm reassuring Nueng that his mother is probably alive and being taken care of, while Nueng continues to question if Palm's mother can even be trusted is a stark contrast in how they care for each other. They both want to protect each other from unhappiness and pain but have very different approaches.

I hope Palm is right about Tanya because I keep thinking about this scene from the trailer and Nueng crying in the place he shares with Palm to grieve away from people.

And they took that personally

Get these tattooed on your bodies in Mandarin. DO IT!

Phum taunted them by saying they were boyfriends, and Mam also questioned it as well. Palm is surprised by the French and Chinese couple openly holding hands and stating they were boyfriends [This couple is the one getting married on the beach by Mam while Nueng plays the piano and Palm watches from the trailer], yet these two don't really know where they stand now that they no longer have to exist in a world dominated by their social standings. This is what pushes Nueng to clear up the meaning of the kiss.

The gay sheets are EVERYWHERE! 1) Thrilled that Nueng was direct and asked about the kiss; 2) Palm saying he kissed Nueng because it's his job to make Nueng happy is the same energy that Togawa was giving Nozue in Old Fashion Cupcake when he was helping his boss lighten up; 3) Palm asked Nueng what he meant by Palm having no feelings when kissing him, and if Nueng had waited a bit, Palm would have owned up to having emotion behind the kiss; 4) The last man who said a kiss is something special and meaningful had a funeral for a hedgehog then got laid on those gay sheets, so may the odds be in your favor, Nueng.

Next time, if you want to make me happy, you don't have to go that far. You can just act funny or play a joke.

He is staring at Nueng, lustfully. I don't know about y'all, but where I'm from, talking about chile (peppers) and saying things are spicy are innuendos for sex. And saying that Nueng was blushing because it was too spicy, then that his lips were swollen and burning due to the spiciness...yeah, um...

The shift these two have between the degrading and the formal, and how the insults are said with love, yet the formalities are said with sarcasm is such a special way to use language to show intent.

This is some really rich-boy energy he is throwing around, when the first episode had protest banners about taking people's land splashed right outside his gated house. He wants to make a public space his own private escape to the detriment of the locals who told him about it. However, the way the story keeps repeating the tale of the cow header and the weaver girl, I think this will be like 3 Will Be Free, where Palm returns to the beach, and Nueng goes to college abroad but visits Palm. They will be together but apart in the end and Our Skyy 2 will show Nueng visiting Palm at the beach. CAUSE THEY BOTH HAVE TO BE ALIVE when this is over!

Next week we get the rooftop scene from the trailer between Chopper and Ben, and I'm convinced that Chopper released that picture. I cannot be swayed! He is going to spend more time with Ben, and just when Ben is going to fall for him, he is going to find out that Chopper did it, and I'm going to be sipping my Lady Grey tea with glee.

I'm also even more convinced that Palm's dad is involved in the shootings and is working with the uncle. He had the escape plan all worked out for Palm, which makes sense if he was a good bodyguard and father, but he's not. I don't trust him! He called Mam and told her Palm would be living with her a while, so I don't think he planned for Nueng to live through the shooting. Even if this show ends and Chopper and Chanon are innocent, I'll take these beliefs to the grave. Namo 2.0.

#I didn't think this would be so long #But here I am‚ unhinged #Never Let Me Go #Palm x Nueng #Episode 6 #the gay sheets #the stares #the touches #the chile references #Chanon is so sus #Let them get tattoos #these two make me sick #even if I end up in shatters #I give you my heart to break #Are we getting boyfriends next week that play piano on the beach for the the gay couple's wedding?! #I want to be normal about this show but I can't #It has consumed me

[xalygatorx]

Worthy (2015) | Chapter 24, "I'll Always Find You"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Disclaimer: From here on, at the time of writing Worthy I ran out of canon to go on from the films. Everything from here, forward, is pure HC about what I thought the fight with Thanos and the Ragnarök might look like based solely on existing canon and the title release cards.

Summary: Cora contends with her newborn grief over Loki’s demise. An audience with the “Allfather” comes with an unexpected twist. An old foe begins his greatest onslaught.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: Grief

Word Count: 3.3k

Cora inhaled slowly as her back pressed against the chamber door, closing it with a soft click and turning the latch until she heard the lock turn home with a hollow sound. Her eyes closed in time with the door and leaned her head back against the gold paneling with a dull thud, her fingers sliding over the door handle until her hand slipped off entirely to hang at her side.

Loki was dead. And she'd been right about him all along.

Her throat tightened painfully and when she opened her eyes next, the white scleras were red with inflamed blood vessels, saline glossing them over and collecting at the rims. About this, she'd been wrong though. She still had energy to grieve. She would always have energy to grieve and mourn and it came in full force this time just as it had with all the others.

It would have hurt whether he was a truly merciless villain through and through as so many others had thought or the misunderstood prince he'd turned out to be. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Not anymore. Nothing excused what he'd done, but he had redeemed himself when it mattered and that meant so much more than any lingering reputation. People could change. It just took an immense amount of strength for them to do so. Slipping back into old ways was more than possible, it was easier, but she would never know if his change would stick. Neither would Thor or Odin or the Warriors Three or anyone else who had doubted him. Maybe that was a good thing.

Cora clenched her jaw and shook off the thoughts, blinking hard and exhaling at last in a gust, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed until she figured out how to control herself enough to get to work on something productive. Hell, what would she even do now? She hadn't thought much past meeting her Asgardian relatives or any possible outcomes with Thor and Loki apart from everyone coming back alive and okay. It had just seemed impossible for them to fail, even if Thor had ultimately triumphed at the cost of his brother's life.

As she sank into her seat, she crossed her ankles and habitually tucked them back just enough to breach the bedskirt. Her brow arched faintly as she felt her heel hit something under the bed and she leaned forward, reaching to find whatever she'd tapped with her foot, her fingers hooking in a fabric strap. Pulling against the strap, she tugged what turned out to be her purse forward, having forgotten about it entirely after surrendering it to a couple of Frigga's handmaidens upon her arrival when they'd insisted she take a bath to cleanse her wounds.

Setting her purse in her lap, she hesitated before slowly unzipping the main compartment, figuring it could serve as a temporary distraction to root through familiar souvenirs from her home world. She'd rifled briefly through tiny trifles like her car keys (now useless since Clint had put an arrow through where said key would have gone and by this point, her car had probably been towed or confiscated by SHIELD), a couple stray keychains, some old receipts, and keys to her apartment by the time she got to her billfold, grimacing as she unsnapped the clasp and unfolded it.

A soft smirk found her face as she looked down at her driver's license and old school ID along with all her debit, credit, and gift cards lining the pouches inside and thinking how useless they all were here. Cora slid her nail behind the first layer and turned it over, her throat constricting as she looked down at the picture there, faded from the years, of her as a child with her parents.

"Never gets easier," she murmured softly, her fingertips stroking the plastic covering the photograph before she shut and zipped her billfold, replacing it in her purse before taking out her phone.

Out of simple curiosity, Cora depressed the "home" button and felt a sincere sensation of shock when the screen lit up for her to swipe and unlock it. "Can bet there's no wifi here…," Cora commented with some of her usual snark returned and looked over the apps, opening up her photo gallery and starting from the top. High school "selfies" with friends, snapshots of old photos of her parents, a couple shots of her grandmother and her grandmother's golden retriever, Nell, and countless pictures of flowers, trees, and landscapes out in California. She had to admit that she missed it there after all this time away. It felt like ages.

When she neared the end, she nearly went to the home screen again, but she stopped, noticing a small, somewhat blurry final picture she didn't remember being there. It was nestled right beside a short video she'd taken at a music festival she'd gone to in Central Park perhaps a month before all of her problems involving SHIELD had begun. Narrowing her eyes, she touched the square screen-cap and it expanded to fill the screen.

When she pressed "play," her features went blank with disbelief as a jostling video of Loki began. Realizing she had it muted after a few moments, she paused it and put it back to the start, turning up the volume. His hair was shorter here, he even had a bit of color left in his face, but his brow was pinched with determination and utter frustration. Even before she pressed "play" again, she knew this was a mistake, but that didn't stop her.

"Damn, how do I… Ah, right, got it!" his voice played through the speakers, and Cora felt like she'd swallowed a handful of needles as a triumphant grin broke across his face, and she was finding it hard to breathe properly again. She stayed strong as his eyes moved over what had been her phone screen, but she had no idea why he'd had it on in the first place. She couldn't even remember when he might've had access to it.

He continued to mutter, something about messages and addresses, and she could only think that he was trying to figure out how to work the phone and that was how he'd accidentally triggered the app for the camera in the first place. Cora laughed softly as he grew frustrated with the technology, her free hand moving to touch her mouth as she watched, even as her heart hurt in a peculiar way at seeing him like this. Maybe because she never would again.

Finally, something favorable happened for him and he started to calm down, soon smirking and declaring victoriously, "Nice try, Cora, I'll always find you." 

Her smile slowly faded as the video ended there when he locked the phone, her numbness resonating once before beginning to lift and leave her defenseless. Cora sucked in a short breath and moved the track forward again to just seconds before that fateful phrase, listening to it one more time.

"Nice try, Cora, I'll always find you."

She locked her phone after the second run-through and felt her features contort just before a sob was torn from her chest, escalating until she bowed her body so her forehead rested against her knees, her hands still holding her phone against her chest as she wept painfully into the fabric of her gown. Her form flickered as she sank into her own agonizing grief, fading out entirely more than once as she lost control of herself. That was how he'd found her in California at her grandmother's supposed funeral, which had turned out to be a scam. He'd handed her phone back to her once he'd arrived and held her hand on their way back.

Cora cried hard enough to cause muscle strain throughout her body, tension making her ache, but not nearly so much as her own emotions. "Well, find me now," she murmured softly, shaking her head as she flashed back to what he'd said out of spite, that she couldn't save anyone. Not because she still felt ire toward him over it, but because it was terribly true. She hadn't been able to save her parents, she hadn't been able to save Frigga, and she hadn't been able to save him either. This knowledge made her utterly miserable.

A knock on her door made her clear her throat carefully enough to weakly answer, "Yes?"

"Lady Cora, the Allfather desires an audience with you," a man, who she could only guess was a guard, said politely through the door and a faint hint of guilt in his voice told her that he realized she wasn't in the best condition at the moment, even if he didn't understand why.

"Lady," she repeated softly with a strained smirk as she slowly sat up and let her phone slip back into her purse. "That's a new one…" Then to him, she said more loudly, "I'll be just a moment. Thanks."

Cora set her purse aside and stood, checking herself in the nearby mirror and wiping the tear streaks from her cheeks as she mulled over what Odin could possibly want from her. Maybe to kick her out. Talk to her about Loki. He had to be hurting a bit over this, he just had to be. Whether or not they admitted it, they were family and the loss of both his wife and one of his sons was likely to be weighing heavily upon him. She left the chamber and walked with the guard outside to the throne room, where he bowed and left her at the door.

Taking a deep breath, Cora walked through the doors the standing guards opened for her, listening to them settle closed behind her. She started walking toward the throne where the Allfather lounged, holding Gungnir as he watched her progress. Something was different though… There were no guards around; it was just them in the throne room.

That wasn't what was bothering her though, it was about Odin. He seemed less formal, but maybe that was because there were no guards around. She might've thought it was grief exhausting him, but as she approached and his features came into focus, she noted that he was oddly calm. "You…wanted to see me?" she said uncertainly, stopping midway down the carpeted aisle.

"Indeed," he said simply, raising his hand as he leaned forward a little. "Come closer. I do not care for shouting needlessly across the room." Cora stepped forward slowly and he hesitated a long time before he continued to answer her question. He seemed to divert from whatever he was originally going to say and noting instead, "I suppose I mean to ask what you plan to do in regard to your ties between Midgard and here. Whether you will—"

"That's what you're concerned about?" Cora interrupted with slight incredulity. "How much longer I'll be taking up a room in your palace?"

An expression of surrender bloomed on his aged face and his demeanor seemed to shift to one of weary defeat. "A room is of little importance, but I believe I must tell you that—"

"That, what?" Cora demanded, suddenly escalating toward anger. "That I have to figure out what I'm going to do, go through some kind of immigration process in order to stay here, be the only one in this damn place to grieve for your son? How can you sit there and just," she struggled for words, "keep going?!"

His grey brow furrowed subtly and he squinted at her features. "Your eyes are red. Something ails you?" he asked softly, studying her and seeming to lapse back into his former manner.

Grimacing at the fact that her eyes were reddened with her earlier tears, Cora felt her proverbial hackles rise and she shot back, "What 'ails me' is what should be ailing you! Your son just died, do you feel nothing for that?!"

"He is not my son," Odin said coolly.

"What kind of monster are you?!" Cora demanded loudly, feeling her tears beginning anew from two parts frustration, one part grief. Same old song and dance. "How can you just decide not to mourn him? He died for a man who is your son, you won't deny that!"

"You grieve his loss," Odin observed quietly, seeming baffled by her reactions.

"And you don't," she retorted defensively.

"Why do you?"

Cora looked up at him on his golden throne and, in that moment, she hated him. She truly hated him, but she knew the feeling was temporary. She so rarely held a grudge, it was almost an inability of hers to do so. "Because I care," she said quietly. "Because I'll miss him. That's why anyone grieves. The loss and what they will never get to say."

"And what will you never have the chance to say?" the Allfather asked with almost too much curiosity, but Cora didn't notice as she was more concerned with wiping the stray moisture from her eyes.

She floundered for words, struggling to articulate before she grimaced and shook her head. "What does it matter now? And what the hell do you care?" she asked fiercely, glaring up at him as he got to his feet and slowly made his way down the steps to her level.

"It's a bit…," he began hesitantly, which was the first time she'd ever seen Odin grow hesitant, but as she watched, he began to change. A familiar green aura slowly grew over his form, which lengthened and thinned as she watched, her eyes widening as she reflexively took a step back. 

When the light faded, Loki stood in Odin's place, looking down at her with a mixture of interest and wariness. "Complicated," he finished lamely, pursing his lips into a thin line.

"But…you…," Cora mumbled confusedly as he stopped a few steps in front of her, looking up at him with bewildered eyes still red and watery from crying. "Thor said…"

"Thor left before I could heal. I'm still not entirely whole, but," he paused, looking down at her thoughtfully. "I am alive. Obviously, but… Cora, I don't know how you could forgive me for the things I said to you, but if you—"

"Stop," Cora said harshly, raising a hand. Loki closed his mouth and glanced toward the floor, knowing he had been foolish to think she might be forgiving after finding out he was alive, particularly after he hadn't told her straightaway that the Odin she'd approached on the throne had, in fact, been him.

Cora's hands were shaking and her voice shook faintly as she said again, "Just…stop…," just before she stumbled forward and closed the distance in two long strides, throwing her arms around him. Loki jolted in shock and looked down at her, his arms half-raising of their own accord though he hesitated. "You're such an idiot…," she mumbled against his shoulder, standing on her tiptoes to make up for the height difference.

Loki sighed and a faint smile crossed his face as he wrapped his arms strongly around her, ignoring the dull pain in his chest as he held her close and moved one of his hands to gently cradle the back of her skull. It was amazing how the simple act of being able to touch her after all this time was able to ease his mind. "I know."

Cora laughed quietly through new tears of relief, not entirely inclined to loosen her hold, though she did after a moment. As she eased back to standing flatly on her feet and let him go, she sighed, looking up at him and finding that her smile was lingering, despite it all. "I forgive you. Let's just move on, okay?"

Loki smiled back at her and had shifted his hand from the back of her head to her cheek when they broke their hold, softly stroking the line of her cheekbone without entirely realizing he was doing so. "Okay."

The moment was broken when the air changed into an unnerving state of stillness. Loki's smile faded and his eyes shifted from Cora to the entry doors, a hum filling the air just before a snarl twisted his lips and he grabbed her, taking them both down to the golden floor. A sonic wave lashed through the already weathered throne room, sending stones crumbling and gold adornments cracking up the sides. A fissure formed in the floor and it split the throne up the middle.

"What's happening?" Cora shouted over the roar of breaking rock and warping metal, reaching up and covering the back of Loki's head as a fragment of rock hurtled toward it, causing it to slice her hand instead.

Loki glanced around with a feral sort of desperation, not knowing whether to keep their position on the floor or get them both to a safer place, though the presence filling the room felt horribly familiar…

“I warned you that failure was not an option, Loki Laufeyson.”

With the voice came pain of agonizing force that overtook his senses as it had time and time again in Chitauri lands, causing his limbs to shudder as he held himself over Cora, trying to protect her even as he felt like he was being ripped apart. He opened his scrunched eyes to look at her when he heard her gasp loudly, finding her choked with agony as well, her hands tight against her skull as she curled from the inflicted pain.

"Thanos!" Loki roared, enraged that the torture he knew too well was now being used on Cora as well.

"No need to scream, little giant. I am all. I will bring ends to all," Thanos promised with a deep chuckle. Another sonic wave caused the architecture to groan and shudder and Loki gathered Cora closer to keep them both grounded and try to comfort her as the familiar torment continued on, murmuring softly in her ear that it was all in her head and it would end soon.

Loki glanced up when he heard a rumble from deep underground and then crashing until the palace vault, uprooted from its cavernous home broke through the floor and the air went suddenly still again. The enchantment on the vault was breached and a void opened upon the impossibly thick metal door, a blue glow surfacing slowly until the cubical shape of the Tesseract rose up, at once enclosed by the void.

At that moment, a vision of fire into darkness, of burning cities and melting golden reaches, of screaming and death and the universe folding in upon itself washed over him and Loki's jaw clenched as he glanced around at Asgard's royal fortress, a mass of fragmented gold and stone encircling him as the rest of Asgard lay in ash and dust, the sky breaking apart above him. He knew this sight.

The vision faded when he blinked, breathing hard as the mental infliction of implied pain finally faded from his mind, relieved when he felt Cora relax in his arms as well. The bastard never showed himself, but one last threat flowed through the room and echoed twice over. A threat that sent deep chills through his bones and was even enough to pale the fair skin of the trickster god's face.

"Prepare yourself for the final death, son of ice. The Ragnarök begins."

Next chapter: Chapter 25, "Gems of Power"

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #slow burn

[yandere--stuck]

I just finished playing bugsnax in like 3 days (didn't unlock everything tho) and literally every couple has potential to have MC as their 3rd. Filbo has the most potential bc of how much he obsessed over Liz 1st and now he's ur roommate! And he knows ur not crazy! Tho Liz and eggabell could've trapped u w/ them as part of the bugsnax queen,,, lots of potential in this game, they all depend on u so much how could they not fall in love a little too much. Also I love ur work!

I really hope you liked it! :D I'm replaying it rn myself and I love all the new content they added in! And I still gotta get the dlc

And you're SO RIGHT.

Wambus and Triffany would feel themselves indebted to you for all you've done to them! And... Well, their relationship wasn't in the best shape before you came along, isn't that proof that you and they are meant to be? Plus, Wambus is far too stubborn to let you go. You've helped them so much and they care about you so dearly, won't you let them take care of you in return, hon? They just wanna dote on you, it's what you deserve!

And Chandlo and Snorpy just want to protect you! And... Take care of you. And spend every moment with you. And keep you hidden from the outside world, far from the clutches of The Grumpinati and their attempts to hurt you or take you away- or, well, maybe that's just Snorpy's paranoia talking. And Chandlo knows it's not good to feed into his boyfriend's worries, but when it comes to, well, Chandlo doesn't want to take a risk, either!

Chandlo'll wrap his arms tight around you in a hug to keep you still and safe in his arms. Being really good at hugging and protecting the people he loves is why he wanted to get strong in the first place! Well, half the reason. The other half was to be really good at basketball and also lifting houses. He'll hold you and nuzzle against you while Snorpy studies you and draws diagrams and even conducts his own interviews! Though, they'll before his and Chandlo's ears only...

Lizbert and Eggabell are even more protective of you than they are for, well, each other. It makes you feel coddled. Lizbert is ecstatic when Eggabell comes along on hunting trips, but both of them insist you stay in town (where it's safe!), and, uh, you know, just keep watch. Even if you try to sneak out after them, they'll fuss over you and ask if you're hurt the moment they find you - and the entire way as they walk you back to Snaxburg.

And as much you're happy to find both of them alive and... Relatively well, your heart sinks when you realize you won't be leaving Snaktooth Island with everyone else. Don't worry, though, all you need is them....

To Filbo, you are... Everything. His light in the dark. His hero. His buddy. His best friend. His Soulmate!! I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? You believed in him. You tool him seriously. You always reassured him and never made him feel bad about himself. And yousaved him! You saved everyone. It's only right that he show the same care... The same love you showed him. You mean the world to him. He can't take his eyes off of you, so don't worry if you feel eyes burning into the back of your head or feel hot breath on the back of your neck, heh. And if he wins the election, his first action as mayor will be using all of his power to be able to keep you all to himself and treat you like you deserved to be.

Floofty would probably come off the most... Strange. You could feel their gaze on you throughout the entirety of your stay on Snaktooth. You were sure they hated you. They'd purposefully bump into you, insult and talk down to you, force you to gather supplies for experiments with no thanks in return. And when they weren't acting like a menace toward you, they'd hole themselves up in their hut or in the wrecked ship outside of town to do goodness knows what.

And when you had finally managed to convince Floofty to come back to town, you went back to Boiling Bay to collect some bugsnax a resident was looking for, and decided to take one last peak into Floofty's makeshift hut... And you felt yoyrbresth escape your lungs. In the light of day, you could clearly see your name written and scratched into the wood over and over and over again. If you weren't able to calm yourself down, you might've thought everyone was right about Floofty - that they really were a murderer and their next target was you. But, for the life of you, you didn't know what you had done to make them so angry with you...

It's only when you leave the island and Floofty gets a better handle on dealing with their emotions and other grumpuses that Floofty gets you all alone... And confesses. You... You were all they could think about. You took up almost every thought. It terrified them. They were awful, and yet you treated them with kindness and... And it was the most frightening thing they'd ever experienced. They were so, so worried. Their work in snaxburg was all for naught. And now... Now, they couldn't protect you. If something happened... They wouldn't be able to put you back together. And it was horrifying. It was horrifying to care so much. To love you so deeply and wholly and completely, to love you so much it ached.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #poly yandere #yandere poly #yandere bugsnax #bugsnax x reader #snorpy x reader #chandlo x Reader #flibo x Reader #lizbert x Reader #eggabell x Reader #Yandere #i know i left out cromdo beff and shelda... but it was getting long enough as it is rip 😔 #AND GRAMBLE AND WIGGLE. Listen there are so many characters

[fostersffff]

What are your thoughts on umineko now that you (i presume) have finished it- what are your feeling on the themes and the presentation of the characters?

It's hard to go into everything so I'll just try to cover the stuff I can think of now. Placing it below a break for an obviously spoiler-filled read.

Short answer: it's good all the way down, genuinely can't think of a single element that left a lingering bad taste in my mouth, quite frankly might have retroactively made some things I enjoyed in the past less good. Read Umineko.

(for posterity, I see that people use "Sayo Yasuda" as the catch-all when speaking about Beato/Shannon/Kanon/Clair/etc. collectively, so I'll be doing the same)

Truth and Fiction

I think what Umineko has to say about the importance of truth and the importance of fiction, especially as related to coping with trauma, is fascinating. Conventional wisdom is that, in order to cope with trauma, the best- and maybe only real- way forward is to acknowledge the truth, work through the resulting pain, and then you can actually begin to heal. And- in basically every case that springs to mind- Umineko goes "that's bullshit".

Like, as I currently scan through the cast: what good did being confronted with the truth do for Sayo, or Maria, or Ange, or even Natsuhi? Sayo would probably still be unbalanced but not go full tilt if she hadn't realized that the entire purpose for her extended existence was to to give Kinzo the opportunity to feel forgiven for raping his daughter. A 9-year-old stands to gain less than nothing from being told, in no uncertain terms, that her mother is just a Bad Person. Ange finally understood that by the end of Episode 3, but couldn't get over it and poisoned herself with the Single Truth. There is literally zero reason for Bernkastel and Erika tearing down Natsuhi's illusion that Kinzo gave a single fuck about her but their own cruelty. The thrust of Umineko in this regard is that, at the end of the day, your coping mechanism ends with you- it's not capable of doing any more or any less than you are capable of without it.

However, it also doesn't purport that the coping mechanism needs to be there forever. The epilogue with Ange suggests that, eventually, she no longer needed to have everyone at her side to give her the strength to keep going.

There's only one other story that I've encountered where a character chooses to continue engaging with their trauma coping mechanism and it isn't presented as a bad thing (rot13: Fnzhenv Synzrapb), and I think Umineko makes that point much more effectively.

Gender

I've noted a couple of times in my reading that seeing a not-insignificant amount of unconnected "BEATO TRANS" art and memes influenced the way I thought about the story at some parts, mainly once The Mystery Baby manifested in Episode 5. Taking that into consideration, I think the way Gender As It Pertains To The Story is handled maybe better than anything else I've ever engaged with.

Direct discussion is brought up exactly one time- when Will asks Lion if they're a boy or girl- and Ryukishi07 then trusts the reader to Understand The Implications of that. Which is actually a recurring thing in the story: the reader is never told, explicitly, textually, who Beatrice is, nor what happened on Rokkenjima, which is a pretty bold move to make in (what could be described) as a mystery!

(Actually, it's twice, since someone mentions that Zepar and Furfur are also indeterminately gendered, but it doesn't seem as relevant in the moment as Will asking about Lion does in that moment, although in hindsight, it obviously is)

I had mentioned that I was a little anxious about whether or not they would dig into what Sayo meant when they were dressing down Genji and Nanjo for keeping her alive- if they would hackishly reveal that the only part of their body that was damaged was their genitals, and that's why they considered themselves furniture, or if it was more abstract, knowing that literally everyone they felt any kind of love for was off-limits due to the incest. @random-tree suggested that another popular theory is that Nanjo- intentionally or otherwise (because it was the 60's)- performed "corrective" surgery on an intersex baby Sayo. Ultimately, I'm glad that the gritty details were never dug into; in the same way that the narrative condemns the people desperate to know the Single Truth as intellectual rapists, it completely sails around even raising the opportunity to do the same to Sayo's body.

Also, since I don't want to reblog it to avoid spoilers and it's most relevant here, please look at this artwork of Sayo; it's outstanding.

NEVERMIND THAT SHIT, HERE COMES SHONEN!!!

The first time Kanon drew his energy sword, I assumed that was going to be a one-and-done thing. Like, "haha we're doing a shonen fight scene for shits and giggles before we get back back to our cerebral murder mystery and battle of wits between Reality and Fantasy". And then every single episode had at least one extended sequence that could be slotted in to Shonen Jump without anyone batting an eyelash.

For however I come across writing big long screeds like this about the stories I engage with, I am a shonen meathead in my heart of hearts. I love watching characters power up out of nowhere because they have determination, I love watching villains get outplayed because they underestimated their opponent- OR DID THEY?, I love Battler and Beato doing the Erupting God Burning Sekiha Love-Love Tenkyouken to defeat Erika. I drink all that up like water, and the fact that it was completely genuine was such an unexpected delight.

I mean, shit, Ange's masterpiece as a writer is not-One Piece.

Ryukishi07 was a social worker (you say) who wasn't driven cynical and hollow

Knowing nothing about Ryukishi07 besides the facts that A.) he wrote Umienko (and Higurashi and Ciconia, which I haven't read) and B.) he was a social worker in his past, paints a tremendously impressive picture of the man. Being a social worker is a potentially soul crushing job, in a completely different way than that term is typically used, and to come out the other end and write something so optimistic speaks to his character.

Like, there is exactly one character I complained about as being a one-dimensional waste of time, and that was Kasumi, who was ultimately literally just a vector for Ange to come to terms with Eva. It would've been such an easy decision to make any of the adult Ushiromiyas also be one-dimensional nothings. Like, even Gohda has something going on: he a glory-hogging oafish dumbass, but he's genuinely passionate about cooking! And even the characters who are beyond redemption- in no particular order, Rosa, Kinzo, Erika, and Bernkastel- you can at least see some reason for why they are the way they are, even if they don't actually earn (or even try to get) forgiveness.

I also don't think I have ever been as emotionally devastated by the two-hit combo of "Maria's 'verbal tic' is actually Maria trying to cast a spell to make Rosa love her" and "Rosa bought Sakutarou and pretended she made it", so, props for that as well.

I could probably rattle off more things I like if pressed, and if there was anything in particular you'd like me to comment on I'd be happy to, but those were my biggest thoughts.

Read Umineko.

#And thus concludes: #Tom Goes To Rokkenjima

[bootnotfurby]

Hey! Bit of an update

I don’t know if anyone remembers me since it’s been years and people come & go but I’m still alive!

Unfortunately I’m home from college early, got hit hard with an illness and it’s looking like I might have to stay home longer for some appointments. Couple of physical issues I never talked about here.

When I went away to college I didn’t bring my furbies as I was afraid someone would destroy them. At home they were shoved in a closet and collected dust. My old projects are pretty scattered.

Boot got the worst of it. He was incredibly dusty and I felt the only thing I could try to do was wash him. He was never meant to be washed. He was made on a whim, as a joke with no intention of longevity.

Half the paint on one of his eyes chipped away and his beak is peeling away from his fabric. He’s already caked in hot glue from his construction. But I’m also worried he’s potentially a health hazard or would be viewed as one. He’s not easy to clean without breaking him and there’s places I can’t reach without dismantling him.

Would it be wrong to remake him? I wouldn’t take apart the existing vessel, but I also wouldn’t be able to recreate him 1:1. I have no clue what original plushie I created him from and I’d have to use a different method of attaching the face.

#safe furby #safefurby #furblr #bootis mcleg

[q-gorgeous]

The Best Nasty Burgers You’ll Ever Taste

Prompt: Flynn Walker never knew where he came from. What happens when he wonders what else there is besides the ghost zone? (PR289) @greyheartwriter

Word Count: 1672

ao3

ffn

hello flynn walker

The ghost zone was a lonely existence for the only human that lived there.

Flynn was nearing his early twenties, he thinks? And he’s never seen another human in the ghost zone. He doesn’t remember much about where he came from, and he’s sure as heck that he wasn’t born in the zone. Everything else is dead here, he’s the only thing that’s alive, aside from the plants in his garden. That’s gotta mean he came from somewhere else. That he wasn’t meant to be here. 

He’s been prepping stuff to leave for awhile now. He wants to explore more of the ghost zone, find that infamous portal to the human world and see what’s on the other side. His friends talk about it every time they visit him and when he asks if he can go with them, they always tell him it’d be a drag for him. What is he gonna do? He can’t terrorize or mess with people like the ghosts do. They’ve also told him about the halfa, how he’s ruining their fun all the time. But he didn’t really think he’d like it if they came to where he lived and wrecked the place either. So one day when he sees him in the ghost zone, he flags him down.

“Hey!” He shouts, waving his hands in the air. “Hey! Down here!”

Flynn sees Danny shoot him an initial look of annoyance but it soon turns into confusion when he sees that it’s a human waving up at him and not a ghost. He flies down and lands next to Flynn. 

“What are you doing in the ghost zone?” Danny asks.

“You’re the halfa, right?”

“Yes?” Danny says before frowning. “Did one of the ghosts kidnap you from Amity Park?”

“No? Is that the town all the ghosts go hang out in?”

“If by ‘hang out’.” Danny does some air quotes. “You mean terrorize people and destroy property, then yes.”

“Can you take me there?”

Danny gives him a look. “You didn’t even know what it was, wouldn’t you rather go back to the town you’re from?”

“I want to see where you come from. Where I might come from.”

“Where you might come from?”

Flynn sighs and looks at the ground. “I can barely remember anything from before I got stuck in the ghost zone. I don't remember anything about where I came from. I was really young when it happened.”

“How have you even survived here for all this time?” Danny asked. 

“You’d be surprised how much fresh water exists in the ghost zone.” Flynn shrugs. “And some of the ghosts who found me had some old seeds stashed away that they were collecting. They figured they would get put to good use if it meant keeping me alive.”

“And the ghosts didn’t just take you back to the human world?” Danny threw his hands up in the air. “All that time? Especially now? When there’s a working ghost portal that’s open almost all of the time?”

“I don’t know! Go ask Ember or Johnny why they won’t take me.” Flynn throws his arms up into the air back at Danny while Danny mumbles something about how would do just that. “Besides, before that portal opened there were no other constant portals. I would have still been stuck here until a couple of months ago anyways.” 

“Okay. I’ll take you back to Amity Park but you’ll have to talk to my parents about this. I can’t imagine being stuck in a place made of ectoplasm for the majority of your life is healthy.”

Flynn walked back to his little hut and grabbed one of his bags. “Do you know why none of the ghosts have told your parents about you being a halfa? They talk about it all the time but none of them have given me a clear answer.”

Danny shrugs. “I have no clue but I’m not complaining.” He picks Flynn up and starts flying towards the portal. “I always figured it had to do with some sort of ghost camaraderie even though it’s clear they all hate my guts.”

Flynn hummed. “I guess.”

They fly all the way through the ghost zone and through the portal. Danny phases through the house and out onto the street, dropping Flynn off in an alley before he transforms to his human form. 

“So.” Danny says, peeking his head out from between the two buildings. “What do you want to do first?”

Flynn thinks about it for a second. “I want to try a burger.”

“You’ve never had a burger before?”

“Nope.” Flynn shakes his head. “You can’t grow burgers out of the ground off a plant so it’s not something I could have in the ghost zone. I’ve been told they’re really good though.”

“Oh you have no idea. The Nasty Burger has the best burgers.”

Flynn’s brows furrow. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Danny wraps his arm around Flynn’s shoulders. “Ignore the name. It’ll be the best burger you’ll ever have.”

“If you say so.” Flynn shrugs. 

They walk to the Nasty Burger together. As they walk inside, Danny waves at two people standing in line.

“Hey Sam! Tucker!” He runs over to them and gestures at Flynn. “This is Flynn. I found him in the ghost zone. Flynn, these are my friends Sam and Tucker.”

“What do you mean you found him in the ghost zone?” Sam asked. “Does he live here?”

Danny shakes his head. “No. He was living in the ghost zone when I found him. We’re gonna hang out and do some human stuff around town before having my mom check him out.”

Tucker’s been squinting between Danny and Flynn since they walked up to them. 

“Sam, do you see the family resemblance?” 

Sam looked between Danny and Flynn a couple times before her eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

“What?” Danny asks. “How could there be family resemblance? I just found this guy in the zone like half an hour ago.”

Tucker shrugged. “I don’t know, but he looks a lot like you.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I think you’re imagining stuff. Come on, let’s go order our food already.”

The four of them walk up to the counter and they order. Flynn doesn’t know what most of it means or why there’s so many meaties in one sandwich name, but soon they’re taking their food to a table and sitting down. Flynn unwraps his burger and when he takes the first bite, his eyes open wide. 

“This is delicious!” Flynn exclaimed. “This is so much better than eating carrots and potatoes every day for months!” 

Flynn’s burger is gone in just a few bites. He picks up a second one that was sitting on his tray and starts digging into that one too. 

“If you think burgers are good, wait until you try bacon.” Tucker says. 

“Or ice cream.” Sam adds on. 

“Or deep fried oreos.” Danny says.

Flynn’s looking between the three of them. “Can we try all those things?”

The three friends look between each other before looking back at Flynn.

“Why not?” Danny says. “We should go all out on your first day back in the human world, right?”

QQQQQ

“That was great!” Flynn says, swinging around a plastic sword he got from the amusement park they went to. “The ghosts told me I’d be so bored here because I had no ghost powers! I don’t know what they’re talking about!”

“Ha.” Danny laughed. “Betrayed by one of their own. I can’t wait to mock them for it.”

They walk up to the front door of Danny’s house. Danny turns around to face Flynn with a serious expression on his face.

“Okay. Just remember, no mention of me being Phantom. Got it?”

“Got it.” Flynn nods. 

Danny nods his head back at Flynn and turns around and opens the door. 

“Mom!” He calls. “I have someone you need to meet! Phantom found a human that’s been living in the ghost zone for the past fifteen years or so and so he dropped him off here. We think you should check him out just in case!” 

“We’re down in the lab sweetie! We can take a look at him in a few minutes. We’re in the middle of a conversation right now!”

“This way.” Danny waves Flynn towards a set of stairs that lead down into the ground. Flynn could feel it get colder the further down they go and he’s looking at his feet as his foot hits the bottom step. He looks back up at the sudden sound of broken glass. 

There’s two women staring at him, as if they’d seen a ghost. One of them has a shattered glass sitting on the ground in front of her. 

“What’s going on-” 

A man walks up to them and when his eyes land on him, he stops mid sentence, just staring at him. 

Danny mumbles something about forgetting someone was visiting when the older of the two women walks up to him. 

“Where did you find him?” She whispers.

Danny points a thumb over his shoulder. “Phantom found him in the ghost zone. He just dropped him off at the front door a few minutes ago, Aunt Alicia.” 

“Fifteen years ago I lost my son.” She whispers, staring at Flynn. “I watched him walk into a swirling green portal that appeared in the two minutes I had my back turned. By the time I saw what was happening, he had already walked in and the portal disappeared.” She choked back a sob. “I thought he was gone forever.”

“Wait, we’re actually related?” Danny asked. 

Danny’s mom nodded. “Yes. This is your cousin, Flynn Walker.”

“Woah.” Danny said quietly. 

Alicia walked up to Flynn slowly, her arms coming up.

“Can I hug you?”

After a moment, Flynn nods. 

He doesn’t remember much about his life before the ghost zone, but he did remember someone with warm red hair who sang him songs about bears and trees.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #flynn walker #sam manson #tucker foley #maddie fenton #jack fenton #alicia walker #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic #phic phight #phic phight 2022 #phic phight team ghost

[via-the-ghoul]

for da character ask game… the world must know your thoughts on draculaura 🎤🎤🎤

Ok, thank you!

(Note, this will be focusing on the Gen1 version of Lala)

Favorite thing about them: I love how she’s written in Frights Camera Action! I love how she’s still her peppy self but she wants to DO something important and she’s scared that she won’t be able to stand up to Stoker and she just wants to find her long lost friend and

Least favorite thing about them: what the heck was going on in Why Do Ghouls Fall in Love man

Favorite line: “Listen, not all of us were meant to do great things. She should be proud that she was born to do something so amazing.”

BrOTP: Her, Frankie, and Clawdeen, duh!

OTP: her and Kiyomi

NOTP: I know this is an unpopular opinion, I just… don’t think her and Clawd are a good couple. It’s not that I hate either of them, it’s just that it feels weird due to Clawd knowing her since he was a pup…

Random Headcanon: due to having been around for like, 1600 years, she has a lot of really weird collections. For example, letters that people around wherever she was living didn’t want anymore. She knew that compared to her, they wouldn’t be around very long, and she wanted to keep the letter writers alive in some way.

Unpopular opinion: Same as NOTP.

Song I associate with them:

Favorite Picture of them:

#yes: I am aware the fact I’m doing angst stuff with fucking Draculaura is weird #via #via rambles #monster high #draculaura #frights camera action

[lunatriense]

What else about Kass do you want to bring up?

That really just depends on what you want to know lol 😂. I'm pretty bad with open-ended questions, but I can tell you basically anything about her that you're curious about. But let's see… generally speaking?

Her inspiration is Kassandra of Troy, hence the visions. That's her Semblance, and not entirely under her control, though she does learn to use it in a much more immediate way on demand. Like her namesake, few believe her until after catastrophe has already befallen them.

She has a notably weak aura and is a weak fighter, except when she's using her Semblance; when she is, she has excellent defence but still not great offence, but burns through her aura extremely quickly so she can only maintain it for a minute or so.

Despite this, she can be extremely useful even aside from her visions, because she's quite clever and… let's say morally flexible. That can also get her into trouble though, particularly with more traditionally heroic people (coughPyrrhacough) since she's very 'ends justify the means'.

Speaking of the ends justifying the means, Kass will do anything for Pyrrha's benefit… even things Pyrrha would much rather she didn't. She does get a bit better about that after they have a big fight, but even then if it meant protecting her sister (or making her happy, for that matter) she wouldn't hesitate to doom hundreds.

Following as something of a consequence to the above two, by the time her (not so) little adventure is over and depending on one's viewpoint, she is almost certainly personally responsible for more death and destruction than anyone alive that isn't immortal.

Only one (arguably two) of the aforementioned deaths happen by her hand, and not during combat. That's also the only time she means to kill anyone, and it's not out of malice (the arguable one kinda is); all the rest happens because of her not bothering to wonder what her actions might cause, because there's nothing too terrible to keep her from doing it anyway. Regardless, she feels awful for what happened… but were she in the same position again, would still do what she did.

She invariably and terribly hurts anyone she loves, but never intentionally.

Although it isn't the only reason she acts this way — and may in fact be a defence mechanism for her — Kass is very fatalistic. Rather than Pyrrha's 'destiny is something you work toward your whole life' view, however, she holds the traditional view of immutable, fixed fate. How else could she see what has yet to happen?

She's plagued by nightmares, initially of Pyrrha's death and later of things she's done, to the extent that she very seldom gets a full night's sleep. Between that, the guilt she carries, her general lack of self-esteem, and a rather unhealthy dose of spite she picks up along the way, she's essentially a homing beacon for Grimm.

At first, she's frequently mistaken for Pyrrha; she's a little shorter and a little slimmer, not so athletic, but close enough that she could very well be her sister of a couple years younger. She looks so similar in fact that even JNR initially believe her to be Pyrrha at first sight. Fairly quickly however she gets to a point where she can be easily distinguished — particularly if more of her skin can be seen — simply by the number and severity of scars she's collected.

Nothing else is specifically coming to mind right now, but if there's anything you want to know, feel free to ask! As you can probably tell, Kass is a rather tragic character, though she does have some bright spots to her too.

#kassandra nikos #answers

[electricbluebutterflies]

❛ don’t be a stranger, okay? ❜

A vaguely plausibly canon-adjacent-maybe Joel/Tess first encounter. PG13-ish (it's in the vague aftermath of Activities but all very very implied) and also on ao3.

The thing is, Tess wasn’t a people person before this end-of-the-world shit.

Which is not to say that she would describe herself as a jerk, exactly, just… not outgoing, by nature, and the expected bouquet of trust issues courtesy of spending her twenties consistently sleeping with if not exactly dating the expected bouquet of male wildlife, and… fine, this whole plausible apocalypse thing didn’t help anyone’s social skills, but hers were already close to the right level. Getting perma-stuck in a city she’d only meant to spend a weekend in was also not a plus, and-

She’s done okay, somehow. Four years later, still alive, still more or less the person she was before, still some kind of functional, still… if she’s honest with herself, in what passes for the quietest part of the night, desperately alone.

That’s the miracle her life hinges on, her ability to blend in and be just uninteresting enough to do okay on her own, adapt and survive and try to have as much of a normal life as possible. Normal, as in she’s on the other side of thirty now and her taste in men hasn’t improved, as in she can hear the voice of her long-dead mother telling her to find someone Nice and there are days Tess wants to scream, there are days she-

Admittedly, her latest fabulous bad idea at least has the potential to be a recurrent one. That could be a bigger problem.

She’s such a cliché, she knows, another morning waking up in a bed that isn’t hers, another evening of questionable decisions quickly recapped in her mind as she tries to decide at what point she’s going to regret this. At least this one happened for relatively innocent reasons; she’d heard an accent less common up here, she’s got eyes, and apparently desperation went both ways. It had been a couple of weeks for her, usually the point where she gets bored, and she would’ve said yes to about anything, and-

At least these choices look alright the morning after. At least she can explain herself. At least this one – just enough older than her to be hot, beautiful eyes, more obvious sadness than she’s gotten used to – understood her boundaries clear enough. At least…

She’s half-tempted to leave now, let this be the petty mistake it should stay, but there’s something unusually compelling about this one – she really should’ve caught a name but she was a little distracted last night – something that makes her curious like she hasn’t been in so damn long. Like that part of her  that called bullshit on princess movies twenty-five years ago had a point, but at the same time-

“You stayed.”

Somehow his voice is even lower half-awake and it makes Tess feel some type of warm, and that useless part of her mind that realizes she hasn’t had a boyfriend in about fifteen years may be a little vocal right now, like-

“A girl can only collect so many curfew violations in a month before it looks bad,” she replies, shifting her body for better eye contact. “Besides, you apparently have quieter neighbors than I do. Just because I can sleep through domestic disagreements on either side…”

She’s starting to see options here, starting to see an element of a future that looks so damn normal despite the external circumstances, some part of her that could be the desperate annoying woman, that could be-

No. That ain’t her. There’s some midpoint here, maybe, but she’s made it this far without latching onto the nearest thing with a pulse and a dick and she’s not about to start now.

She should leave, at this point, but this isn’t looking like regret yet. Besides, there’s not even anything here worth taking on her way out, and-

“Not quite sardine accommodations up here, huh?”

“Not quite. Almost boring, really. Good for you, though… first new face I’ve seen in months that didn’t have a uniform attached…”

He gives her a blank look like where is he even supposed to start with that, and she decides in that moment that she likes him. Fuck her.

The thing is, she has her life, her predictable routines, and her survival plans these past four years have hinged on doing it alone as much as possible and dealing with her physical needs as separately from the rest of her life as possible. And it worked, that’s the beautiful part, it’s worked fine, she is still here and every morning she gets to deal with the dark euphoria of seeing what exactly one more day will throw at her, and she’s gotten fearless and she’s gotten complacent, and-

She should leave. Finally, finally that thought is enough to make her do something.

She slips out of the bed that should not have been able to hold two bodies and slowly re-dresses, re-tracing movements from the night before. She feels eyes on her, appreciative but not leering, and… dammit, this’ll be the end of her, that occasionally self-destructive little corner of her brain is going this one at full volume and who the hell is she to say no to that and-

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Tess turns to take one last look, and the rational part of her brain is saying that she should say something noncommittal if not unnecessarily mean, and the rational part of her brain is pointing out that even now Boston is a large enough city that it would be easy to lose someone who didn’t care to be found, and-

“I won’t,” she says instead of any of those better ideas. Not pathetic, no promises, but-

She’s not that girl, she thinks as she leaves, as a closed door gives her peace, as she realizes she still didn’t catch a name and nor did she give hers. If there’s anything worth tethering herself to, it’ll find her, not the other way around.

(She’s thirty-one. She doesn’t know herself at all. This’ll be fine.)

#ebf writes fic #joel x tess #queue

[atozphantomsquadron]

XXIII - Reconciliation

Those first few days back at home were spent reacquainting with my mother, telling her about what I had done, and her telling me of the local gossip.  Many of my mother’s trading partners in the canyon had passed away, but their sons and daughters remained, to tend the farms and trade with her.  The farms themselves had been starting to lose yield, and the pickings were slim, but somehow my mother had still been able to maintain a living.  Thankfully, one of the old partners that remained was Aunt Irene, who had one of the more successful farms.

Aunt Irene came to visit on our second morning there, unaware that I had returned.  The reunion with her was a special occasion: the minute she came in the door she spotted me across the room, sitting on my mother’s couch next to Cole.

“Shanee …” she started, shifting her focus between my mother and me, “… is that who I think it is?”

My mother smiled and patted Aunt Irene’s shoulder.  “It is.  Little Ariel’s returned to us.”

She sprinted across the room … quite an accomplishment for a 73-year-old Navajo woman … and tackled me into one of her trademark all-encompassing bear hugs.  “Oh little Ariel, we’ve missed you so much, how are you?”

I laughed and hugged her back.  “I’ve been very busy, Aunt Irene.  Busy, but now I’m home.”  I nearly cried, being hugged by the closest to extended family I knew, short of Ken.

At some point she released me when she noticed Cole, much like my mother had.  “And who is this, my girl?”

Cole stood up as I introduced him.  It took a while for me to explain the relationship I had with Aunt Irene, but eventually she embraced Cole just as warmly when I told her we would be getting married.  She wound up spending the entire day with us, reminiscing, catching me up on all of the local gossip, and eventually helping my mother put together a couple of meals.  While they cooked, I took Cole out to see the canyon.

He looked over the edge, where it dropped from the border of our back yard, and whistled.  “That’s quite a drop.  What kind of a woman must Irene be?”

I smiled back at him.  “Surprising, isn’t it?  Living with this canyon makes us a bit hardier than what you’d expect.  It’s all part of the culture of living on the rez.”

He nodded and put an arm around my shoulders.  “I admire that, actually.  It’s a whole different way of life, I can tell.”

“Want to see the bottom?”

He looked back at the house, then at me again.  “Are you sure we have time to go down to the bottom?  Isn’t dinner going to be ready soon?”

I winked at my fiancé and unfurled my wings, grabbing him under his armpits.  Within moments, we were sailing down to the bottom of the canyon using my wings as a parachute.  I watched his face as we continued our slow descent, and felt more love for him as I saw the rapt wonder in his eyes, marveling at the spectacle that nature had produced for my people.  Once we touched the bottom, he spent a few minutes walking around the canyon floor and viewing the long lines of farms before I collected him and flapped my way back up to the canyon’s mouth again.

Unfortunately, it was Aunt Irene who would greet us when we arrived at the top.  Her eyes were wide with surprise as I came face to face with her.

“What is this?  Ariel, what’s going on here?”  She looked panicked.

“Please, let me explain, Aunt Irene … there’s been some changes.  You remember my dream, the one I told you about a long time ago?”

She wiped sweat from her forehead.  “I remember, you told me about flying atop a great eagle, above the canyon.”

I looked behind me, to where my wings protruded from the HoSIP camouflage.  I waggled them slightly.  “This is what it meant.  It’s not just that I’m meant to fly … I am the eagle.”  I clutched Cole tighter.

“But that makes no sense, little Ariel … what made this happen?  How can you still be alive … still be human and yet do this?”

I motioned to try to keep Aunt Irene’s voice from rising loud enough for my mother to hear.  “It’s because I’m not exactly entirely human anymore.  And I need to be the one to tell mom about it … so please don’t tell my mother yet.”

Aunt Irene nodded, slowly and skeptically.  “I understand, but I don’t think you should hold this back from your mother much longer.  She should know.”  She turned to Cole.  “Did you know about this?”

He smiled and chuckled.  “I met her because of that, actually.  That and my father, it’s a really long story and maybe we’ll be able to tell you the whole thing sometime.”

Aunt Irene simply fanned herself, as I retracted my wings back into my body.  She shook her head slightly.  “Well, in any case, dinner’s ready.  I won’t tell your secret to your mother yet.  But you need to, and soon.”

We agreed all around to fill my mother in on the situation during the visit, before returning to the house for dinner.  Aunt Irene’s concern made me even more nervous about telling my mother about my changes, though, and that night I talked it over with Cole as we lay in bed.

“How do I even do it?  I can’t just drop the HoSIP and tell her ‘meet the new me,’ you know?”

He sighed and nodded.  “This is going to take some thinking, Ariel.  We need to be subtle about it, but we need to let her know the full truth.”

I sighed and snuggled closer to him, my nose taking his scent in deeply.  “It’s got to be tomorrow, Cole.  One way or another.”

He took my hand in his and held it gently as we both drifted to sleep.  The next morning, to my surprise I awoke alone in the bed, but his warmth and his scent still lingered.  I took a nearby blanket and wrapped myself in it, stepping out into the living room and noticing that the back door was open.  Through the closed screen I could see Cole, sitting in a meditative pose on another blanket, near the edge of the canyon.  My mind still raced with the conflict of how to tell my mother about the dragon, about 37A and my experiences with Cole and Ken and the others, but in that moment I felt a need I hadn’t known in a long time: to commune with the desert once again.

Despite only wearing a blanket, I stepped out into the brisk morning, toward where Cole sat shirtless and cross-legged.  He seemed to sense my presence before I reached him, and turned around to look up at me.

He smiled.  “You look beautiful this morning, Ariel.”

I sat down next to him, wrapping my blanket around the both of us.  “You look beautiful too.”  I rested my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around me.

“So today’s the day, huh?  We tell her today.”

I sighed and nodded.  “I’ve been putting it off long enough, I suppose.  She needs to know, that I got for sure from Aunt Irene’s talk.  She needs to know her daughter’s changed.”

A beeping distracted us from our conversation.  I realized suddenly that it was coming from the HoSIP, which was made to look like a women’s watch on my camouflage body.  Hoping that it wasn’t losing battery power, I shut it down, only to discover that there was a message coming through.

“Something’s going on,” Cole asserted as I pushed the button.  The image of Gabe Francis was suddenly projected in front of us, which raised an eyebrow.

“Am I interrupting something?”

We looked at each other, then I covered my chest with the blanket.  “Sorry.  What’s going on?”

“Guys, we’re getting some weird readings from WYRMWOOD and they seem to be centered on where you are.”

Cole rolled his eyes.  “Crap.  Why now?”

“Don’t look at me, Sharpe.  It might have something to do with some of the weirdness going on elsewhere.”

This time I raised an eyebrow.  “What ‘weirdness?’”

“Have you guys been completely cut off from the world?”  He paused.  “Wait, don’t answer that, I think I know what’s been distracting you two.  Things are going wonky all around the world.  We’re talking end-times stuff here, lakes turning to blood and undead soldiers launching attacks from major bodies of water.  Jordan’s on the brink of collapse because of it.”

My breathing came quicker.  “What should we do?”

“Just stay there.  It all seems to be originating from the Four Corners region, and since you two are already on top of it by accident, I’m simply going to send Cyrus and Kitty your …”

His image was cut off abruptly.  Quickly I re-engaged the camouflage body and clung tighter to Cole.  “What do we do?”

“I don’t know, Ariel.  We just have to trust the others.  Meantime, we have other pressing matters.”  He motioned behind us as the door opened and my mother stepped outside.  I turned and looked at her.

She sighed.  “You always like coming out here where it’s dangerous, little Ariel.  Come back in, breakfast is nearly ready.”

I looked at Cole.  His eyes virtually screamed, better tell her now.

“Mom, I’ve got a bit of a confession to make.  There’s been some … changes that have happened to me, and I think it’s time I told you about them.”

Her eyes looked confused.  “What changes?  Ariel, what are you talking about?”

I stood up and allowed the blanket to drop around me, lifting my wrist and deactivating my HoSIP.  As the camouflage body disappeared and revealed the real me … dragon-skinned, finned, green me … my mother gasped.

“Good God and all that’s holy, what’s happened to you?”  She put her hand up to her mouth, like she tried to suppress a scream.

“I’m still me, mom.  It’s a very long story, but I’ve had some major changes happen.  I’ve been turned into this, but on the positive side …”

I unfurled my wings.  She squeaked with fear.

“Mom, please don’t be afraid, I’m still me.  I want to share this with you because you have a right to know.  You’re my mom, after all, and I still love you.”

Cole stood up.  Mom’s eyes shifted to him.  “You knew about this?  You let this happen?”

He cleared his throat.  “Actually, this happened before I had the chance to meet Ariel.  But I fell in love with your daughter because of who she is … a strong woman, a loving, caring woman who I believe has the best aspects of her mother.”

My mother slowly approached me, a hand outstretched.  She touched my face, looked into my one red eye.  She brushed my hair aside and found my still-human eye underneath my bangs.

“My little Ariel … so different and yet still the same … this is still your father’s eye …”

She pulled me gently into her arms.  I wrapped both my arms and my wings around her, clutching tightly to her.  “I still love you very much, mom.  I’ll always love you.”

When my mom looked up at me, there were fresh tears in her eyes.  “And I’ll always love you, my little Ariel.”

She clutched me tightly for a while longer, before I whispered, “let’s fly, mom.”

I collected her into my arms, taking a running start for the canyon’s edge and launching myself into the air.  My wings immediately caught an updraft and pulled me high above the earth, nearly into the clouds.  My mother shrieked and tried to say something, but her words were eventually lost, first by the wind and then by the enthusiastic laughter as she realized she was safe in my arms and yet so far above the desert.  At the time, neither of us knew, nor would we have cared, about the disasters taking place far below, or the forces so close to us which would soon threaten all life on earth.

(Transcriber’s note: The incidents which Francis mentions to Cole and Ariel were briefly reported in the tabloid media but quickly hushed up as “fictional.”  One of these events around this time could not be hushed up, and that was the mass-sickening of half the population of St. Louis when a nuclear-powered satellite dropped into the Mississippi River at rush hour.  After doing some research and twisting some arms, I’ve learned that the WYRMWOOD satellite which Ariel mentions is indeed the satellite that crashed into the river.  The more Ariel told of her story, the more I was convinced her team had something to do with preventing even more calamity from occurring at that time.—DAM)

#phantom squadron #dinetah dragon

[moonpool-system]

Wanted to post a drabble I wrote here, hope people like it! Scifi, no particular source, original fiction. CWs for death, Space is Scary TM, existentialism, and suffocation.

"Am I transmitting? Is anyone listening?"

I would sound insane to say I've gotten used to the stars.

Dare I claim I'm used to the feeling of them expanding around me unfathomably, swirling and cascading without a thought to my presence? Countless variations of purple, blue, yellow, white, black. I understood why ancient peoples before me looked up and cried, 'surely, this is where the Gods live.' This ball of rock I sat on was practically microscopic in comparison to the tangible emptiness of the Universe. My awareness of how small I was permeated my mind, body, and spirit. A chill ran up my spine.

Did I have a spirit? For all science had done for us, it'd never proved that. Still, I liked to believe. There had to be something after this.

I spoke quietly into my radio, a fragile signal calling out into the unforgiving, endless night.

"Contact. Contact. 2-4-1-1-10. Is anyone listening?"

No response. Wasn't I supposed to believe? Believe I had a soul. Believe someone would find me. Believe my painfully tiny life had any sort of meaning against the starlight, and all the void between. I exhaled slowly, controlling my breaths. How long could I survive with this air, stored and transported from my home planet lightyears away? I wanted to look, but the finality of knowing how much time I had left terrified me. My breath warmed my ears, ringing with only the internal processes of my body and the emptiness around me. The urge to just remove it and breathe it all in instead almost overcame me, but I resisted it.

"Contact. 2-4-1-1-10. Am I even transmitting?"

I checked my radio habitually. 'Transmission active'- it was working, or at least the indicator was. Somehow, this didn't comfort me in the slightest- the signal only stretched so far, and who would be out here to hear it, anyways? It had been days. I was so hungry, so thirsty... And yet, the fogginess in my head wouldn't allow me to register the pain. I knew what it meant, they had exposed us to low-oxygen environments back in training.

It seemed so long ago, now. Even my own thoughts seemed so... So far away. As if on cue, another ominous beep echoed through my helm. How many was that now? I wasn't sure. Reaching for my memories caused a spike to drive through my mind. Almost sure my actions were futile, I pressed down on a small button in my hand once more.

"Contact. Contact. 2...4...1.... Contact."

Had I been my younger self, I would blame myself for this. I would wonder, what had I done wrong? What had I been punished for? Now, I knew better. Now, I could feel the maw of the Sky's Ocean swallowing me whole. I knew I was less than a pawn- simply a collection of atoms in an uncaring, unbelieving universe with no intent nor plan.

Maybe I didn't have a soul, after all.

"Please."

I tried one last time. A desperate attempt against the nihilism setting in, sinking deep into the atoms within my body. But had I even pressed the button? My eyes shut unwillingly, and stars danced brilliantly across my mind as it faded. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe... But something within me had shut down, and the panic response within me didn't bring me back to consciousness. I didn't have time. I didn't have time... After losing consciousness, it would only be a matter of hours. What had been the point? What had I trained for? What had I dreamed for?

My only hope was that I could dream one last time.

....

...

..

.

"Contact received." The radio crackled to life, and a voice pierced a cold and quiet suit. "Hello? Hello? 2-4-1-1-10. Contact received. We can be there in a couple days. Just stay alive."

#original fiction #drabble #short story #scifi #science fiction #space #astronaut #death cw #existentialism cw #nihilism cw #suffocation cw #prism

[fooltofancy]

first legit nightmare in YEARS and ive already lost the thread of it, but eesh.

#it was A Lot #actually woke me up lmao #apocalyptic question mark #not sure if i was meant to stop or start... It #calling gods #old old gnarly deep woods gods #it's been like two weeks since i touched old gods of apalachia but i guess just HOLDING ON TO THAT ONE #anyway stopping for gas on the way out into said woods #collecting? people? #on the way #some of them called some of them #im not sure #but this gas station was PACKED and weird parking shenanigans were happening #but throughout the fuckin... yackety sax bullshit it got very empty #until it was just me and the attendant i guess #went to pay for gas and he'd also disappeared but there were just people like #in bags and trussed up etc #some of them had obviously been dead for a long long time some of then were people who'd been at the station while i was there #a couple were still alive and people i was meant to collect #but the attendant was coming back and i had to duck behind/into the bodies #i'd seen the man i was meant specifically to find (name was will and it was also high dancy lmao but like BABY hugh dancy so ok brain) befo #and was VERY afraid he'd also been killed #but he came through the side door as the man was coming around the corner and killed him with idk a bolt gun? #the rest of the dream was finding who was Not Dead and preparing to leave #which included raiding this gas station which was alsonthis man's house #telling the other folk that yes there are very nice guns but no i should NOT have one because distess makes me shake violently #and showing them my hands LOL #it went full exposition and then i woke up but #that was Very Much To Process at eleven fifty trying to make it to work at midnight #farewell tag typos