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zenthejackal · 6 months

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Book 6 Prediction Worry-Rant

...Oh boy. If someone told me the teaser would've caused me THIS MUCH anxiety, I would've just waited until the full trailer (or even worse, the full-on premiere)! I've been freaking out so hard since Thursday's reveal and only now have I gotten myself relatively under control. It also gave me some time to look at others' speculations and theories, so that always makes me feel better too. But now, I've got some questions about what will happen with this next book, and what it will really mean to be "emotionally wrecked".

Slight disclaimer: I heavily reference the info from the post made here by xadian-daydreams. I'm basing my ideas off of this, but all credit on retrieving this info goes solely to him (assuming him, sorry if I got it wrong!). I'll also have some references about Dark Magic from the Dragon Prince Wiki.

First off, I need to understand more about the real toll of Dark Magic. What we already knew was that using Dark Magic requires some form of sacrifice of a magical being, it leaves some form of corruption on the user (with physical changes depending on the severity), and that corruption can be used by Aaravos as a means of linking them together. The first use is a sort of 'jolt' to the body and results in nightmarish fever dreams but is remediable. Apparently, it amplifies the values/feelings of the user when casting it (according to latest Q&A). It has been constantly been referred to as a shortcut, or 'too easy to use', but isn't technically addicting; if you want to stop, there's no strong resistance to make you keep doing it. However, each time you use Dark Magic, it's harder to come back from it. Personally, I imagine this to your teacher's cheat-sheet for a test: at first you only use it to answer a really hard question, but then you keep using it because it's so much easier than relying on your own knowledge.

I need someone to explain to me: what exactly is the "corruption" of Dark Magic? Does it darken the soul to make it more evil, make you prone to the emotions you felt at the time of casting, or a very subtle way of "changing you from the inside out" without you realizing it?

The reason I'd like to know this first is because now we're looking at our 3 main protagonists: Callum, Rayla, and Ezran. First up is Callum, my personal favorite (yeah, that's right, I'm not ashamed to admit my bias). Going into the next book, the main questions that came up for me were:

How will Callum handle Dark Magic from now on, especially now that Aaravos is closer to him (magically and literally)?

Will it be easier for him to give into Dark Magic's temptation now that he's given into it a second time now?

How does Dark Magic affect the trust/friendship he's created over time?

Up until Book 5, I always assumed that Callum would never use Dark Magic again once he got Primal Magic; his one-time use was out of sheer desperation. Now that he's done it again (and after learning a bit more about his true character and motives), my main concern is that continued usage will continue to change him more and more until he's a very different person, someone Rayla no longer recognizes, let alone loves.

Moving onto Rayla, there was no real "progress" in the latest Q&A concerning her and the coins (writers refused to answer the REALLY juicy stuff), but there's still some things I still want to know:

If she's given a choice between her new and old family, who would she choose?

She has always been the one to be willing to sacrifice everything of herself for the good of others; how far will she go, or is there a line she will no longer cross?

How does she view sacrifice in relation to others, i.e. Callum? Is killing him when possessed his sacrifice or hers? Would she be willing to kill those she loves (not exclusive to Callum on this last part)?

Who does she ultimately choose above the other: Callum and Ezran or the world?

I realize that most of these questions center around Rayllum, but this is just what concerns me the most right now. I definitely want her to grow as an individual too, but this relationship between the two is something very special to me, mostly because of how much stronger they are when they're together! I really miss their chemistry!!

...Ahem, finally, we have Ezran. While he is still a great part of the main team, he is also now king. But we haven't really seen him act as one in the show as of yet; he's only really been ruling on-screen for about 2 episodes, gave into the bargain with Viren to try and prevent mass bloodshed, have a brief meeting with his council after the timeskip, and have some strong speeches concerning Xadia and addressing the dragons/archdragons. ...Okay, so that seems like a lot, but keep in mind, that 1) while there are powerful moments, they are still brief, and 2) all of this takes place over the course of 3 seasons so far, when he has begun his rule. I would personally like to see him act/struggle more as a king, mostly because I still see some naivety in his approach. He still acts a bit childish in his views, kind of like: "this is the right choice, so we'll do it" from a logical side. This view oversimplifies the world, and while he does address this in his powerful speech in Book 4, we haven't seen him really struggle with this notion. Your words aren't as strong if you haven't been hurt as bad, and I know that Ezran has a lot of hurt that he's been hiding. I want to see how he handles it. (No questions regarding Ezran, just speculation this time.)

The final cherry on top: can someone please tell me what "emotionally wrecked" could possibly mean for this upcoming book?!! Every time the writers bring it up, I get nothing but depression with a side of gloom and misery sprinkled on top! The only saving grace we do have from all this... negativity... is that it's coming in the second-to-last book, not the last. This also likely means that whatever horrible tragedies we'll face this book have the chance to be resolved/redeemed in the next one. Additionally, any character arcs/growth we go through will likely either continue over to the final book or will be resolved in time for another one. That being said, PLEASE TELL ME, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH BY DOING THIS TO US?!! THIS SUSPENCE IS EATING ME FROM THE INSIDE OUT, AND I'VE HAVEN'T EVEN DONE DARK MAGIC YET!!!

...Whew, got that all out of my system. Please reply if you've got any answers or comments, especially with the last part (better to rip the band-aid off now). I love a good dialogue! Just please keep it friendly and civilized. Thanks for listening to my rant, and here's hoping for Dragon Prince's continued success!!!

#the dragon prince #tdp #book 6 #dark magic #callum #rayla #rayllum #ezran #i'm a wreck #how about you?

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wavering-eyes · 5 months

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Open the Floodgates - December 2023 Banlist

Any Josh viewers in chat? There clearly are at Konami.

It's been a really long time since a banlist and the format's developed a lot in different ways that would be difficult to summarize. In lieu of writing all of that, here's a banlist wishlist I banged out a couple of weeks ago out of sheer boredom and I'll use that to talk about the issues last format had which this banlist would presumably have fixed.

Again, NOT THE ACTUAL BANLIST, that comes later. I had:

Banned: Agido the Ancient Sentinel Kelbek the Ancient Vanguard

Agido and Kelbek have had it too good for too long. Tear is not a healthy deck in its current incarnation, it basically exists for gambling addicts. I would be okay with most of the tear names coming back to more than 1 if they banned these. Honestly the shufflers are more toxic but I think this hit does enough to mostly remove them from the format too, aside from tech options in Labrynth etc. I'd like them gone but I think they're less likely.

Neo-Spacian Aqua Dolphin

I'm biased: I kind of like Isolde. That card being banned would not make me sad but I think Infernoble would be in a healthy place with just Aqua Dolphin banned since Connector turns 3-negate hands into 3-negate double handrip hands and that's fun for literally nobody.

Sillva, Warlord of Dark World

Similarly, Dark World hand loop does not deserve to exist. Ken and Gen were a mistake.

Baronne de Fleur

Baronne is miles better than almost every other Synchro released in years. I think the only deck where it's actually healthy is Swordsoul, and it would be a shame for that deck to lose this, but it's way too strong. This is also a wide hit, it hurts the combo variants of R-ACE and every version of Mannadium and Infernoble.

Hot RDA King Calamity

King Calamity lock should not be a thing, I don't really care how good/bad Centur-Ion is.

Limited: Kashtira Fenrir

Unless you're playing R-ACE or a deck that can't play it, Fenrir is generally better than seeing an engine card.

Rescue-ACE Air Lifter

I thought long and hard about what hit would be best for R-ACE and it's either this, EMERGENCY!, or both. This is the deck's best starter by far since just Hydrant doesn't really get you anywhere.

Unchained Soul of Sharvara

Sharvara to 1 both stops the deck from playing through hand traps as easily and making High Caesar, the only problematic part of that end board. If there's any hit I really wanted it was this. Unchained was the most represented deck last format in terms of YCS wins, for good reason; it's decent into everything at worst and plays very well around sacky blowouts like Shifter.

S:P Little Knight

S:P is the best Link in the game and both R-ACE and Infernoble play two. I honestly think the game would benefit if it was banned but Konami will never do that and putting it to 1 actually does something in this case, so why not.

Pot of Prosperity

I finally got a set from Rarity Collection box tournaments and... this card feels like cheating in much the same way Talent does. Seeing this card feels like you've unlocked the ability to mulligan your hand.

I hope you get the picture: Unchained and R-ACE were roughly the best decks and the combo decks below it were various kinds of unhealthy. I get that a banlist prediction isn't the best way to communicate this since it's also adjusted to stuff Konami probably won't hit since it's new (Sinful Spoils etc.), but the bulk of the analysis here is on the banned cards anyways.

One other concern before we go into the list is Labrynth: Lab is seeing a lot of play right now thanks to a very good R-ACE matchup, and it's seeing a lot of speculation because Transaction Rollback has been confirmed for a TCG release. I don't think it deserves a pre-emptive hit but Eradicator Epidemic Virus or Skill Drain going would be good for the game.

Anyways, the actual banlist:

Banned: Agido Kelbek

Ishizu millers are gone, so Tear is now much less likely to sack you, and that's just about all it's got left at this point.

Mathmech Circular

I have no animosity towards this card in particular (as has been shown!) but it's very emblematic of modern power creep. Circular was a 1-card do EVERYTHING. Mathmech played Small World to search this when it was at 3. Cyberse piles played it too.

With that said, this ban is a huge surprise. Mathmech has been virtually irrelevant since Bystials came out, and I think totally irrelevant since Circular was limited. I have legitimately no idea what inspired this.

Isolde, Two Tales of the Noble Knights

So we're taking the low road. It's hard to overstate how much this card did for Infernoble, but it saw play in Mikanko as well: you could mill Arabesque to summon out Renaud and add it back, which starts your entire engine, or mill Mayowashidori and have that setup prepared for later. That deck also played enough equips to summon out Ha-Re or Ken/Gen if necessary.

Modern builds of Infernoble played 2 Infernoble Arms names alongside Phoenix Blade, D.D.R., and Angelica's Angelic Ring as targets to mill off of this, and it hardly ever mattered even if you drew two. Angelica's Ring is of interest here since Charles can equip it from GY thus adding another negate to the board--one which works against Super Polymerization and Dark Ruler No More.

I think the core idea of the design--you have to play bricks to get a summon from deck--is fine. But warriors are way too good and this card has been living on borrowed time for five years.

Future Infernoble builds will probably have to go all-in on Angelica or something, but I don't see how you play the deck competitively without this.

Limited Unchained Soul of Sharvara Rescue-ACE Air Lifter

Nice call, me!

Redox, Dragon Ruler of Boulders

All of these cards could come to 1, or maybe even 3, and they would be fine. The hand effects still go -1 and they are not better cards to mill off of Ravine than Absorouter or Bystial Lubellion, so who cares.

Orcust Harp Horror

This card could have been unbanned years ago. It's a shame we only got it back after Bystials came out, but something tells me that Normal Summon Girsu is gonna be a fine play anyways... (Read on.)

Gozen Match Rivalry of Warlords There Can Be Only One

It's a holiday miracle. Floodgate bozos BTFO. As you can see above, I didn't expect this to ever happen but it's genuinely pretty great for the game.

Skill Drain next please!

Sunavalon Dryas Sunavalon Healer

Rikka Sunavalon is, on paper at least, an insane combo deck. This deck can put up multiple interruptions off of literally just Unexpected Dai and has plenty of space for non-engine--not to mention how much work the Rikka cards put in thanks to Konkon and Sheet adding S/T based disruption, Princess insulating you from monster effects, and the Xyz monsters adding more traditional monster-based disruption. On paper it has answers to virtually anything and you could build your board in ways to play around a large variety of cards.

Note that--on paper. This deck is not good into handtraps, and last format was definitely a handtrap format. Rikka Sunavalon saw a bit of success a few months ago, mostly in Europe and the fringes of the NAWCQ, but overall was fairly well balanced by the steep difficulty of the deck and its fragility going second.

I think the most likely hit to this deck--which I didn't feel was necessary--would have been Jasmine to 1, since that card is not once per turn, and the deck regularly used Healer to trigger both copies at once. But this hit is pretty staggering--the extra is now short 3 cards.

Ib the World Chalice Justiciar

Denglong came back a list or two ago and saw no success whatsoever. Now we have Justi back and it's... interesting.

I will go on record saying that this is, short of any currently-unprinted legacy support, a better card than Denglong. Its targets are overall much better and it plays better with most decks. Denglong bricks were generally very bad to see and relatively weak unless you were going all in on it.

With that said, Denglong also had obvious decks to slot into--Swordsoul, Adventurer decks playing Tenyi cards, etc. I don't know what currently existing deck would want to play this since it would virtually demand a rebuild around it. I'm gonna throw a dart at the wall and mention Runick Generaider which could play Sinful Spoils for Jet Synchron or something, since that enables both Baronne and this, and Monstrosity is just about the sackiest play in that deck. There's also World Legacy Orcust, whatever you want to call the upcoming cope variant, since your backup for getting Harp Horror stopped after opening Girsu could be a Justiciar combo of some sort. But I don't expect much regardless. I guess there's also maybe some Runick Synchro deck (entirely separate from Runick Bystial, it would be P.U.N.K. or Synchron or something) that could possibly exist but I don't have super high hopes for it.

For anyone thinking about it, this card's best "obvious" targets are World Legacy Monstrosity, World Legacy Guardragon, and World Legacy's Succession. If you're trying to play Mekk-Knights, all of their backrow that negates cards on a column basis are World Legacy cards, and Girsu makes this card by himself.

Update: around 12 hours later. I've done some testing and I think Dragon Link is the only real deck for this card. In practice you need a bunch of setup for the Girsu to make this going first for your various Monstrosity decks, so your best option is actually Draconnet and that's kinda garbage. World Chalice isn't going to be stealing tops anytime soon either, and it was basically proto-Dragon Link anyways. Dragon Link can make this off of like BMD + Quick Launch and that combo is okay, ending on something like Spheres + S:P and Regained with 4 cards in hand. I don't think any of the bricks are going to see play though.

Snatch Steal

Change of Heart is back at 1 and this is actually less searchable thanks to Triple Tactics Thrust. Surprisingly, this card should actually be fine. Though there are a concerning amount of monster-stealing effects in the game, going second is currently not strong enough of an option to support a strategy built around it. (Read on.)

Semi-Limited Purrely Sleepy Memory

With Delicious limited, this is the best Memory card left, at least going first: either cat using this as material summons out Epurrely Noir which sets Purrelyeap from deck if you have another spell. Next standby you can draw a card for every Sleepy Memory underneath Noir, then activate Yeap to turn it into Expurrely Noir--and since it's now a different card, draw the same number of cards off of Sleepy, up to potentially six if you had all three. Now it's 4 at max.

This also slightly disrupts the usual line off of My Friend Purrely, which prior to this would usually reveal three copies of Sleepy Memory going first. Now it's probably going to be both remaining copies and Delicious, which is what you'd do if you already drew one.

I don't think Purrely was a particularly fun deck to play against and this hit was definitely deserved. With that said, once the Goblin archetype comes out next set, I would not expect to see much more from Purrely, even if this card was at 3.

Dinowrestler Pankratops

Last seen at 3 in Eternal format, where its statline and Quick Effect forced two-for-ones against (interrupted) Orcust, Salamangreat, and Sky Striker boards alike, Pankratops has consistently seen play since being Limited and I do not expect that to change going forward. While he has some competition with Kashtira Fenrir around, make no mistake--Pankratops is usually the better card going second and Fenrir is favored due to its utility going first. That aside, there's not enough anti-synergy to prevent you from playing both.

Speedroid Terrortop

Last seen summoning M-X Saber Invoker off of 1 card in Zoodiac format. Rank 3 monsters are still plenty strong. I would not count this card out in the slightest, doubly so if it comes to 3 later. With that said, as I recall, the OCG last played this to make Miragestallio, and Salamangreat--surprisingly--has better things to be doing than that*.

*I'd love to elaborate but it's kind of an insider secret for now.

Unlimited

Grouping these together based on relevance.

Infernity Archfiend Spellbook of Judgment

Unhits to decks that should have stayed in 2014. Launcher is still at 1 and Infernity is still going to be bad as long as handtraps exist. Judgment saw no play after its unban because Spellbooks are way too slow to compete and Jowgen control is not real.

Kashtira Unicorn Spright Starter

Housekeeping. Undoing semi-limits delivered as a slap on the wrist to decks that are largely irrelevant after Konami banned their best ED monster.

Mind Control

You can go through my old posts for proof: I was always a believer in Mind Control. I called it when it first went back to 3 and enjoyed my victory lap once it was hit again.

The game's changed a lot since: most notably, Change of Heart was unbanned (and now Snatch Steal, too...), and Triple Tactics Talent and Thrust were printed. This card is worse than all of those, so the question is no longer "Would you want to take your opponent's monsters?" and is now "Would you play this alongside the much better options that now exist?" and I think the answer is "no" for most decks. If this sees play, it will be in budget lists or in lists already maxed out on all of the above cards.

Upstart Goblin

Let's get this out of the way. Uninformed scrubs like to mythologize Hoban playing triple Upstart in every deck back in 2014 as proof that this card stayed on the list due to the power of 37-card decks, but it's been ten years and this is no longer HAT format. Most decks play hand traps and seeing Upstart going second when it could have been a hand trap is bad. This card is also unbelievably bad into Droll & Lock Bird which has seen near-constant Side Deck play since 2019, so that doesn't help either. The only reason you'd play this is for synergy or deck-thinning in decks that simply don't play going-second cards, so I would expect this to see play in Dark World (the illusion of free choice: you will still lose to Droll), Endymion decks (since those cards no longer see play in Pendulum piles) and Sky Striker (mega-cope) and very little else.

So. Not useless but I would not expect to see it in anything good.

Pot of Desires

The discussion of the relative strength of the Pot cards is very complex and well out of the scope of this post. I have been asking for a Desires ban for years and accept that I'll probably never get it, but the fact that Prosperity's drawback is so low that even ED combo decks like Mannadium can play it is not a great look for this card since you can't play both.

That said--you should literally never count this card out. It being moved to 3 is an attempt to shape the game and not a statement of this card's power level.

END

Unchained now has to choose between setting a trap off of Sharvara or making High Caesar, and they'll probably always choose the trap. The card not being at 3 also means you are much less likely to be able to hold one in hand to have your Tour Guide dodge Impermanence, or to pop your own cards on your opponent's turn unless you add it back off of Soul of Rage. This deck was mostly fair but this helps smooth out the excessively strong parts. Maybe there's a world where the deck starts playing double Shyama for Caesar but that just sounds awful.

R-ACE lost 2 copies of their best starter. I expect the deck to still perform, though this is a serious hit.

Infernoble is virtually dead in the water.

Mikanko lost universal access to Ken/Gen and will have to totally rebuild, but still has some things going for it--mostly Hu-Li.

Tear is pretty trash now. I don't think it's even in cope territory without millers, there's just no way you can expect to sack with just Scream and Tearlaments Kashtira milling 5.

Labrynth is looking very nice. Fire Kings are looking alright too. Most every FIRE deck can expect a boost once Promethean Princess comes out, including R-ACE.

Mannadium is untouched. Droll is the only thing holding this deck back--it can play through literally everything else.

Until next time.

#yugioh #yu-gi-oh #yugioh tcg

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death-rebirth-senshi · 3 years

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Rosaria's questline is so funny they just copy-paste Anastacia from dark souls 1 but she's a goddess/covenant leader instead of a firekeeper

#Lautrec-I mean Leonhard-takes her soul for even more ambiguous reasons #me vs ds3 #I guess Rosaria lacks a tongue to stop her from speaking blasphemy as well? Perhaps that's why they're opposed to the darkmoon blades #They cut off ears not tongues but.#dark souls 3 is so hard to speculate on because it's just like. Everything was a 'long time ago'#in a way that's extremely unclear #and 'time is convoluted' and 'transitory lands' makes it weirder #you can find Elizabeth's corpse even though I don't think you could in dark souls 1 #despite being in her future implied to be a thousand years?? Or at least 200 that's what the crestfallen merchant says #but everything happened in a same kind of vague 'long ago' so what can you even say #dark souls 1 was long ago #other things that happened in between are also long ago #Oolacile was an ancient land in dark souls 1. Now it's even more ancient and legendary #and don't even get me started on wondering how long Gwyndolin has been around #and how dark souls 2 fits into all this #(they just bring Gwyndolin and Anor Londo back for nostalgia damn the lore implications)

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lucivar · 3 years

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this is a random question for you, but i'm curious to know your answer—of your stories, which do you recommend to a new reader as a first read?

omg hi, what a lovely question, i am so flattered to receive such an ask! Admittedly, this is a very challenging question for me to answer without knowing what you're after, because i've written everything for different reasons, in different genres to stretch myself, going through genres and styles like Veronica goes through jewel-toned suit jackets.

Based on what I know of you, I would recommend A touch of Melbourne Magic. It is the only story that I have written in this comic-style. It's light and breezy, a bit campy, a holiday core 5 with bughead being unhinged yet adorable. This fic is really close to my heart and I had a lot of fun with it.

Most of my other stuff is explicit with a capital E. I once tried to write an M story and just failed miserably, upped the chapter count and just wrote porn to save my soul.

Otherwise. Probably not my best in terms of writing, given it was my first ever novel length completed fic, but my personal favourite, is The Inevitability of Betty Cooper, which comes with accompanying Jughead POV 'drabbles'. Betty is trying to work undercover without being too thirsty for sad sack gang leader. meditationonbaaal described this once as 'canon in reverse' and it kind of is in a way because psycho FBI Betty needs to learn how to play nice with others <3 Look, i love it, but it's not for everyone: dark themes, a metric fucktonne of tension and just so many lies.

Notes about the other stories are under the cut :) Thanks so much for asking and taking an interest! Choose whichever adventure takes your fancy (if any)! And of course, happy to talk about whatever else you want to know before you try (if you want)!

My two other long fics are:

Viper Radio : a hard core mystery, lots of overt speculation, lots of sleuthing, lots of hypothesising, lots of exhibitionist Bughead. I wrote it to learn how to write a mystery that people could follow along with and that could be put into a literal murder board (which redcirce did for me!)

Summer Shivers, is a twist on a classic rom com arc, subverted older guy/younger girl where jughead is basically just led around by his nose (think a bit like Dale Cooper and Audrey Horne from Twin Peaks). I wrote it to learn how to write a hideously painful slow burn and to prove that I could be romantic. I also wanted to write a lot of banter and families torturing Jughead.

My smut one shots were to push myself in writing different styles of fast burn porn, which is out of my comfort zone because I love writing hideous slow burns and lots of pining hahahah, but there are a couple of stripper ones, a demon sex one and a christmas one. My favourite of these is Admit you’re hot for me. All of these fics are A LOT, but also were very fun for me to write and I learnt a lot, so... *shrugs*

#sullypants #asks #my writing #bughead fan fiction

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wellhellotragic · 3 years

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These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 3/4

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself. It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: Guy, I suck so hard core. I don't even know how I let so much time lapse between chapter 2 and now, and then to really top off my suck-o-meter, I realized that there's going to have to be a chapter 4 because I can't fix what I've done so easily. Not realistically at least. I promise, and happy ending is coming though, and it won't take me another 8 months to get it up. I hope to have it up and finished by the weekend.

The AO3 version

It’s been a hell of a night. She’s not sure where exactly it falls on her list of worst days ever, but it’s in her top five. It has to be. It’s not the worst, that honor is saved for the night she almost lost Killian, but it’s still up there. She’s spent hours now going through all of the details over and over again with Graham and Lance, her story never changing. Getting poked and prodded by EMTs, despite telling everyone that she’s fine.

She’s not, but they can’t stitch up her insides.

David, her partner, on the other hand has a bullet hole in his leg. Better than his head though.

She’s not even sure if she can fully reconcile everything that happened. She and David were investigating the death of a low profile importer, a nobody, interviewing some dock workers that had found the body. Some gruff looking men who easily blended in with the usual fishmongers and cargo sorters.

But they weren’t. She realized it just a second too late, right before a bag was pulled over her head. She fought like hell, but she was at a disadvantage. From what she heard, David had put up a fight as well, but in the end, it was useless, and she lost consciousness with a sharp blow to the head.

She woke up strapped down to a chair with David the same a few feet beside her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, Jefferson had always given her a bad feeling, but she never actually thought he’d go dirty. She certainly never expected to be facing the wrong side of his department issued sidearm.

Even now, everything is still a blur. Graham assured her it’s the shock, that it’ll fade once the adrenaline wears off; that everything will clear up after a good night's rest. She’s not sure about that though. It’s four in the morning now and the adrenaline seems to be hanging on for dear life still and she knows she's not going to rest any time soon. Humbert offered to drive her home but she declined, choosing to wait for August to finish wrapping up his report.

She’s not sure what time it is when they finally arrive at her apartment. The battery in her cell phone died ages ago. Neither of them even make a move for the fridge, choosing to bypass the beer she keeps stocked for the hard nights. Instead, the two of them move in silence to her room. She plugs in her cell before crawling in bed next to him, like when they were kids in Ingrid’s foster house. She’s not sure who’s comforting who at this point, but she knows that she just needs to be with family.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She doesn’t, but she knows she needs to or it’ll eat her alive. She’s tried that once already and it ended up with her almost having a complete nervous breakdown and a three week leave of absence with daily Archie sessions.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

It’s true. So much has happened in the last twelve hours, there’s no one easy to pinpoint place to begin. So August goes first. He fills in the blanks that he can, so that she might be able to piece together the rest. He tells her about Killian sending him undercover, about Jefferson and missing drugs and money. How Jefferson was helping to conceal evidence that would link Walsh and the Nikko empire to a wide distribution of pixie dust.

Some of it is just speculation, that Jefferson must have figured out they were closing in on him and that’s why he went for Emma, and David was probably just collateral damage. How he most likely picked Emma because he knew how much she meant to him , and while he didn’t say Killian’s name specifically, the implication hung over her like a heavy cloud.

“Before you got there, he told Killian to choose. Between me and David I mean. To pick which one of us would live and which one would die. And then he just started laughing and screaming in this crazed voice that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

It was the single most terrifying thing she’d ever heard. The mania that accompanied it. She already knew that it was going to haunt her for months to come, if not longer.

It’s a real Gracie’s choice. Gracie’s choice Killian. GRACIE’s CHOICE!!!

She felt August shift next to her.

“Gracie was his daughter. She died while he was undercover with a Southie Gang. Killian was undercover with Cruella at the time. It was a freak accident, a gas leak and the house went up in flames, but he was convinced that she was killed by one of the De Vil boys. He told me once that he knew Killian had given him up as a snitch to prove his worth. The De Vil’s had nothing to do with the Southie boys, but he’d twisted it up in his mind. I never thought he’d do anything about it though. It was just crazy drunk venting one night.”

She knows August. Knows that he’s blaming himself for what happened tonight, but she ignores it. Nothing she says will stop him from tormenting himself, and she’s not done.

“I told him to choose David. He has this whole perfect life, you know. An adoring wife and a new baby, all of these people that would miss him if he were gone. I told Killian to save David, and I-” She hates how small she feels when she cries, but she can’t hold back the tears. “He gave me this look. He’s been cold, but this was something different. There was just so much anger in his eyes.”

And that’s when she breaks. Knowing that hated her was one thing, but watching him train his gun on her. Seeing the pure darkness in his eyes. She doesn’t know how to voice it to August, but she knows that if August hadn’t arrived when he did, she knows he would have done as she asked. That he wouldn’t have had to think twice about it. And it’s that knowledge that sliced open the last piece of her heart that had been hanging on by a thread, even after all that time.

August holds her through the tears, until she finally exhausts herself enough to sleep. And so she drifts off, completely unaware of the new voicemail alert waiting for her.

________________________________

The February air is cooler on the water and he kicks himself for not bringing a heavier jacket. It’s been ages since he’s been out on this boat, and time has helped him to forget everything except for the things he wishes he could. Liam always used to tease him, so much so that Killian would reject any offers of warmth from his brother just to prove a point. He wasn’t some silly kid that needed to be minded anymore. He was capable of doing everything on his own, except for bringing an extra coat. He forgot everytime, and today was no exception.

Luckily for Killian, the spare that Liam kept on the boat just for him is still in its place, folded neatly in a small storage locker below deck. It hits him in the gut a little, that Liam could be so right about some things and incredibly wrong about others.

It’s eating Killian alive, not talking to his brother. Not being able to express himself because despite everything Emma has done for him, Liam still doesn’t approve of her. Liam often still thinks of him as the teenage boy, awkward and desperate for approval from anyone that will give it to him, even if it means getting taken advantage of.

He’s not that kid anymore though. He isn’t letting his crush steal his essays and letting her claim this as her own. He isn’t using all of his hard earned money to buy her jewelry that she’s just going to pawn for cash later. He isn’t following after Emma like a lost puppy dog.

He’s in love with her, and he has a sneaking suspicion that she feels the same way. But at this rate, he’s never going to get Liam’s blessing, the only approval he needs anymore.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this now. He really shouldn’t. Not when he and Liam are sitting in a rented dilapidated loft across from an abandoned fabric warehouse waiting for the Canal Street Cutter to emerge. There had been a lot of chatter that morning about where he might be hiding and Liam assembled teams throughout South Boston hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Emma and August were stationed about eight blocks over. Lance and Arthur were on the edge of South Boston and Waterfront. Other teams were scattered, but too far away to get to if they needed assistance.

Killian had tried to tell Liam that it was a bad idea to spread everyone so thin, but the elder Jones brother had been instant and headstrong as ever. It would have been a career making arrest, and Liam, ever aspiring to be more just wouldn’t let that chance pass him by.

“I just think that you have other obligations that require your attention right now.”

“If this is the bros before hoes speech you can just save it.”

“Killian,” The exasperation evident in his brother's tone, “you know I detest such vile language. It's crude and you are better than that little brother.”

“What obligations?” He has to quash his desire to correct his brother’s description of him.

“I just think that you are meant for so much more in this life and I worry that you gave up so much when you left the narcotics division to follow her into homicide. You were a rising star there and now you’re having to cut your teeth all over again.”

“It’s not as if I’m starting all over. For God’s sake Liam, I just made Lieutenant. But there’s more to life than a job.”

His brother takes his gaze away from the binoculars to turn to Killian.

“Look at father and all of his vices. It strayed him from the path. But you, Killian, you persevered and now everything you've wanted is in your grasp.”

“This isn't the same thing and you know it. Emma isn't some pathetic man’s addiction. Liam, I'm in love with her.”

“Killian,” Liam pauses, taking a deep breath. “She's a distraction. Think of all that you’ve accomplished in the year that you were undercover. You brought down an entire crime syndicate. You did that without her taking your attention away.”

“I didn't bring the De Vil family down because ‘we’ were apart. I did it because we were ‘apart’ and I knew the only way I'd be able to see her again without putting her in harm's way would be to find the evidence and make the arrest.”

“Fine, if you need another reason, have you thought about working directly with her, or even over her in a supervisory position? Have you considered how your personal relationship with a subordinate could affect your judgment?”

“It’s not-”

Liams sees movement in the distance, cutting off Killian’s rebuttal, but his view is obscured so he motions for Killian to follow him, to leave the safety of their little room. They stay silent as they walk downstairs and head out a propped-open door leading to an alleyway. They had to wind through hallways to get from the loft outside and now they’re further away from the warehouse with no cover.

Killian even tries pointing out how visible they are, but Liam shuts him down, determined to close the case. He’s halfway sure that Liam’s trying to prove a point about how Killian can’t be successful and be in a relationship with Emma. He’s seen it before, the way professional jealousy destroys couples. But Emma’s not like that. She wouldn’t see his success as her failure.

They try to skirt the perimeter and he knows he should keep his mouth shut, this just isn’t the time, but he’s just so frustrated that he can’t keep holding it in.

“Please don’t make me choose between you.” It’s an angry whisper, more to himself than anything, and even though he did his best to keep his volume low it’s still enough that Liam’s heard and turns back to him, missing sight of the empty beer bottle at his feet.

The glass battering against the gravel echoes through the night as they both stay silent, waiting to see if they’ve been heard. The air is still around them, and Killian thinks they just might have lucked out.

And then he hears the gunshots ring out.

Liam is on the ground before Killian has time to register what’s happened. He runs to Liam, but gets knocked to the ground before he can get to him. His body hurts and he can see blood covering his hand from where he just touched his abdomen. He’s always heard people say that the shock blocks out the pain, but they must all be liars, because the longer he lays there, the more the pain intensifies.

It takes everything he has to pull himself behind a dumpster, half crawling, half slithering like a snake.

The shock eventually did kick in though, because even to this day he has no memory of radioing in for help. Just the vague memories of Emma leaning over him. The look in her eyes as she tried her best to hold back tears.

The same tears he fought back the night he left Boston, like the coward he was. But Archie was right. He needed to get his head on straight, to distance and center himself. He had to leave, for her.

He’s still wrestling with the guilt. He talked about it with Archie, how she begged him to kill her and save David. And that he actually considered it for about two full seconds. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t want her feeling the way he did. The burden of knowing that someone else was dead, and knowing that no matter how good you are, how hard you try, that you’ll never live up to them. He didn’t want her hating herself the way he did. Didn’t want her to destroy herself like he had.

But then something snapped inside of him and rage bubbled up. The audacity of her to beg him to kill her. For her to try and force that decision on him, with no regard to him or his feelings.

It was at that moment that he finally realized what he’d been doing to her ever since Liam had passed away. He finally understood the choice she’d been forced to make that night. And he knew - he knew that despite it all - he could never live with himself if he’d chosen anyone but her. That he couldn’t let her go just like she didn’t with him.

The only thing that saved him was Boothe. In the moments that passed after August arrived, while the two of them tried to wrestle the gun away from Jefferson, he felt the weight of Liam’s death wash over him. And then he heard a shot ring out and there was nothing but panic. Panic and guilt.

It felt as though ages had passed as he searched for Emma in the smoke filled room. The SWAT team had moved in at some point, but he’d been too focused on fighting off Jefferson to notice. He pushed through the sting in his eyes and the tightness of his chest as he looked for her, but all he saw through the haze were armored cops everywhere.

It wasn’t until he was forcibly escorted outside the building that he saw her, saw that she was safe, and then his stomach turned. He ran around a corner away from all of the prying eyes, and for the first time in his career, he gave in and let the night overcome him.

It’s been nearly a year since that night and he’s been running ever since. Some days are better than others. The anger is mostly behind him, but some nights he still wakes up in a sweat clutching his bed sheets, ready to fight. But there’s never anyone around to take a swing at, because he’s all alone. He’s pushed away anyone that ever mattered and isolated himself on that damn boat.

He thinks of Emma, wonders if she’s moved on or not. He’s too cowardly to call her, partly because he has no idea what he will say if she answers, but mostly because he’s terrified that she won’t answer. So he broods. He takes to the local bars as he sails the coastline and drinks a little too much before stumbling back to Liam’s boat alone. It’s a wonder nobody’s robbed him yet for what a careless sot he’s been.

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s made his way down to Florida and back, only a few hours away from Boston, and his demons are screaming again. He’s hoping against all hope that the rum in the tumbler across from him will help quiet them. Just holding the small glass in his fingertips helps a bit. A placebo of sorts. He doesn’t want to be this man anymore though. This pathetic lonely human. He doesn’t want to feel this way anymore, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. Archie said that him realizing it was a good first step but he’s not sure if he agrees. He’s called Archie a lot over the last year. Somehow doing therapy over the phone as the boat sways back and forth under his feet has helped to ease his hesitancy. There’s something about knowing that he can hang up at any time if he wants, and that no one knows. No one will judge him.

They don’t talk about Emma, not in present tense at least. They’ve had conversations about the way he’s treated her in the past, about his complicated feelings for her, the way it’s all shaped him, but they never talk about her now. He’s not sure if it’s because Archie doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, or if Archie knows something that he’s absolutely not ready for.

Archie is here tonight though, the rum is.

He’s still twirling the amber in his hand as he hears the familiar scraping of a nearby barstool against a wooden floor. There’s a scent that follows, a floral perfume that doesn’t match with the musk of the dive bar. He doesn’t look at her directly, doesn’t need to when he can see her from the mirror behind the bar. Her top is low, flashing more skin that it’s covering. She’s closer than he thought.

“Is that for me?” She’s bold.

He’s reminded of those early days on the force, when he wouldn’t even have to talk to a woman. When he could just flash her a smile and she’d be on his arm heading out the door to her place. He’s not that guy though, he’s salty and cynical, and the look he flashes her is closer to a smirk.

“Excuse me?” “Well, you’ve been toying with it for almost twenty minutes. I just thought maybe you were waiting for me to walk into your life.”

Was he this bad at picking up women?

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m not in the mood for woman.” “So you’re gay?”

It’s a good thing he hasn’t started drinking yet because he damn well might have chocked otherwise. He doesn’t get a chance to respond though. The bubbly blonde that served him his rum has returned with a spray bottle in hand. “Mary of Mothers. Didn’t I already have you escorted out of here tonight, Teresa?”

“Bite me, Tinkerbelle.”

The girl behind the bar might be all of five foot tall but there’s a beast inside her that towers over any man in that bar and before he knows what’s happening the bartender is drowning the girl in what smells like stainless steel cleaner and the words coming out of her mouth would make any Navy man blush.

The girl ends up running away and Killian isn’t sure what to make of any of it. He’s broken up bar fights before, but he’s never seen anything quite like that.

“Sorry about that. I know this little bar might not seem like much, but it’s all I’ve got and I’ll be damned if I let the likes of her selling her body in here.” “Oh, she wasn’t-” “Trust me, where you had agreed upfront or not, you would have been light whatever cash you have left in that wallet before the night was up. And I’ll bet you dollars to pennies you would have had a lovely little itch or two down there.” She nods her head towards his crotch before switching the subject like she hadn’t just implied the poor woman from before was an STD ridden whore. “So, I haven’t seen you here before. Where you from?”

He’s not sure how she’s disarmed him so quickly, but he finds himself telling her all about himself over the next hour. Business has slowed down and her other barmate seems to be more than capable of handling the few strays still walking in.

She makes him laugh too with her feisty spirit. It’s been far too long since he’s felt at ease like this. They talk and talk. Not about much in particular, just random conversation. She bought the bar about six years ago, and tells him about how it’s let her build the family she always wanted and never really got. She’s carved out her own little place in the world and he envies her that. The way she can just lay her whole life bare to a complete stranger while he can’t even talk to the people that know him best.

The night rolls on and it’s time to close up. He half expects that she’s going to invite him upstairs, to the little apartment she mentioned earlier, but she surprises him. She’s done that a few times tonight, but this one hits him in the gut. “So, what’s her name?”

This time he actually does chock on the water she’s poured for him.” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Killian, in the last few hours, you’ve told me your entire life story, everything from your shitty father to your arrogant brother, your job, your leave of absence, but you haven’t mentioned a girl one single time. You’re holding back, which means there’s something to hold back.”

“You don’t know that. I could be gay.” “Um, ya, I saw you check out Teresa’s rack earlier, definitely not gay. So what’s the deal.” He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to be rude either. So he gives her as little as possible, but she sees through him. In fact, she actually asks him what the hell he’s waiting for as she pushes him out the door.

He doesn’t really know what he’s waiting for to be honest. He’s wanted to go back to Boston, but there’s just so many threads he left unravelled when he left.

#These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #CS fanfics

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allthingsmortalkombat · 3 years

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Hanzo Hasashi Imagine

“ hi how are you hope you are well. I love your post there wonderful is it ok if i can request a Hanzo Hasashi x S/o where they have had a beautiful marriage for awhile he's been happier since someone came into his life but his S/o dies for him while saving his life somehow Hanzo than is broken and can't really go on anymore .. if i could have a request like this I thank you you will make my day <3″

GIFS not mine!

Waiting for Hanzo to get home was always the longest part of your day. Especially as of late. You could feel him slowly beginning to drift away, and you swore nothing in the world broke your heart more than the possibilities running through your head. Hanzo purposely avoiding you, possibly he was drowning trying to build up a strong clan once more, or the worst thought, him wrapped intimately in another woman’s arms.

You found yourself watching out the window more often, waiting for him to walk up the stone path underneath the beautiful trees. The trees you once sat under together, looking up at the sky silently. The trees you once made love under, held in each other’s arms, looking deeply in each other’s eyes. The trees that now seemed to mock you, reminding you of a time much better than now.

Now, you constantly dressed your best to catch his eye again. You cleaned your home spotless, made him a supper he hardly finished, woke up before him to brew him some coffee and fix him up a breakfast. You tried so hard to bring back the spark that was beginning to flicker out. You wore your hair down because you knew he once loved it.

It seemed like nothing could bring back his attraction to you.

Behind his back, you cried often. In front of him you put on a happy façade; telling him you love him often, and that if he needed anything, you’d be here for him. Less and less did he come to you, need you, love you.

You recalled all the good times with Hanzo. When he began to open up to you for the first time, showing you he was more than a cold man. The times he would blush when complimenting you, or become bashful when you would do the same to him.

You loved him with your entire heart, but now it was beginning to hurt you.

You had seen the woman he had potentially been with behind your back. Her dark hair reached her mid back. She had a smug look upon her face when she met your eyes. In a way, her beautiful features reminded you of the picture Hanzo kept of Harumi.

These were just speculations, of course.

You didn’t want to believe that Hanzo was capable of doing something like this to you. You knew he loved you, but it felt off. It felt like he was fading from your life altogether.

Finally, you could see him beginning up the pathway. With a heavy yet hopeful heart, you went outside to greet him. A smile did not stretch his lips this time. His arms did not reach out to engulf you. Instead, his body seemed more tense than usual. As he came closer, you smelled... roses.

Your heart dropped. Shattered on the ground. You attempted to keep your expression calm, you tried your hardest not to shed a tear. You tried to think of a better explanation.

All that could come to your mind was Hanzo holding another woman in his arms, treating her similarly as he did to you before.

Holding her, kissing her, loving her.

Did he love her? Did he shower her with affection? Compliments? Kisses? Did he only find her body attractive, or her soul?

Hanzo, like yourself, was so deep in thought, he didn’t see a familiar pale man further behind him. Your mouth flew open. Unleashing a skull, everything seemed to be in slow motion.

“Hanzo!”

Sprinting up to your husband, you shoved him to the side and out of the way of the flaming skull, just in time for it to instead collide with your throat and upper body. Hanzo’s eyes burned red as he watched you fall to the ground.

His love, his life, on the ground and dying in front of him once more. The goddamn sorcerer again. Turning to said sorcerer, Hanzo unleashed the harshest hellfire of his life, immediately consuming the sorcerer until he was nothing but ashes.

You lied beneath your love, hardly able to breath and keep your eyes open. You brain began to thud violently against your skull, you felt both a burning pain and a sudden numbness. Your throat began to tighten.

You watched your husband lean down to capture you in his arms. Tears dropped onto your face as you gazed into his eyes; full of pain and worry. Weakly, you attempt to raise your arm, barely making it to his cheek.

With a shaky, cracking voice, you say, “Thank you.”

With a reassuring smile, you feel your life slip away from you; all the pain, heartache diminished as your soul left your body. An empty shell was all that was left in your husband’s arms as he began to holler and yell at you, ordering you not to leave him, that he loves you, and that he is so sorry.

You were buried underneath one of those trees. Under the tree where Hanzo had proposed, made love to you, cuddled you, held you, kissed you, and loved you.

#Hanzo Hasashi #Scorpion #Mortal Kombat #mortal kombat imagine #MK #mkx #mk11 #angst

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whumpster-fire · 3 years

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Extremely Hot His Dark Materials Take:

The conventional wisdom that daemons’ settled forms represent who you truly are as a person and are a unique, symbolic representation of it is what’s said in-universe but it isn’t true, or at the very least isn’t the whole truth. IDC what Philip Pullman’s said is actually canon, stuff like “Servants usually have dog demons because they have a submissive/servile nature” is really not plausible fite me.

Animal symbolism is a social construct and is not universal among cultures, and just like the alethiometer symbols, an animal species can have many meanings. As a result, for any one person there are usually many species which are a “valid” representation of their soul, and which one their daemon actually settles as is not set in stone from birth. Daemons don’t consciously choose their settled form - and humans certainly don’t - but it reflects a variety of influences, including symbolic “nature” but also cultural influences, social pressures, what animals the daemon actually knows about, the nature of the relationship between the human and daemon, and what forms are physically comfortable or practical. But the common uniting factor in all of those is that a daemon’s form reflects what you want and need as much as what you are. Not superficial wants, but deep deep psychological needs and what’s important to you. And sometimes fears as well.

Factor #1: Societal Bias

Strong cultural predispositions toward settled form, combined with form stereotyping. I think it was said in the books that “most servants had dog daemons because deep down they wanted to be told what to do.” Think about this: is this likely to be true? Given that people generally wind up in jobs by luck of the draw and by what’s available, and most people even in the most socially mobile modern societies usually don’t end up in their “true calling,” and in Lyra’s world your occupation seems to very often be determined by your birth. Do you really think all the kids like Roger Parslow, who’s working as a kitchen boy because his aunt who was a servant at Jordan College raised him, are naturally subservient? Well, is everyone who works in a service industry job IRL naturally subservient? Hell no! However, this is a very, very convenient lie for a classist society that teaches people that they were born into a “station” in society to tell. If your daemon settles as a dog, obviously you were meant to be a servant all along, and you and your daemon spending your entire childhood being told that because this is the station you’re being born and raised into your daemon should be a dog or some other “appropriate” form and couldn’t possibly cause them to be biased towards canine forms by this.

But if a daemon takes a form that’s obviously unfit for their station, clearly your true calling is elsewhere and it was never truly meant to be. It’s hard to falsify as long as most daemons are settling in “expected” forms. And most do, at least to an extent. A daemon’s form is influenced by drives and desires, and while most people don’t necessarily want to be bossed around and told what to do, most people do want to fit in.

And having fairly broad categories of “expected” can help that, because that gives room for daemons to find a form within that category that genuinely fits their nature. Someone extremely independent and strong-willed but growing up always expected to be a servant might end up with a husky daemon. Someone with a leading (or even controlling) personality might have a herding breed. The same goes for Gyptians and Witches being expected to usually have bird daemons.

On the other hand people with certain daemon forms might also be actively recruited for certain jobs, based on both symbolism and the physical abilities of that form - e.g. the Tartar mercenaries and other soldiers seem to almost all have wolf daemons. These may be very common in their culture to begin with, and then there’s further selection based on the symbolism of “You’re a wolf, you’re powerful, noble, and a natural killer but you’re a loyal pack animal, you’d make a great soldier.” But then in addition to that, because of the no touching rules, people in jobs where they fight other people are at an advantage if their daemon can fight other daemons.

Factor #2: Age

Settling age is... around early-to-mid puberty it seems like. I’ve seen speculation that it would be later in more modern societies as the age of maturity drifts over, but it seems like 12-14 is fairly common. But brain development continues until around 25. Like... seriously. Daemons are settling when their humans would be middle-schoolers in our world. People mature and change a huge amount in that decade of “settled but not fully mature.” Unless daemons can presciently predict how they’ll change over time - or if the soul’s nature is fixed and people tend to change in away that approaches that over time - your daemon’s form may be based on what you were like at settling age.

Factor #3: Knowledge and Familiarity

His Dark Materials is mostly based in Europe / Northern Eurasia, and the vast, vast majority of the settled daemon forms in the novels are native to that region. Off the top of my head the exceptions are Stelmaria (a snow leopard, native to the Himalayas but that’s still an animal she and Lord Asriel could have encountered / read about as a child), Mrs. Coulter’s daemon (a monkey, I don’t think we’re ever told what species. Not native to Europe but again Marisa had the resources to travel, read about exotic species, visit zoos, etc and everything about them is weird, IIRC the African soldiers in Amber Spyglass had various african daemon forms (so, where they’re actually from), and Hester. Hester’s the most important because while she took the form of an arctic hare, which is native to North America where Lee’s from, her form is native to a completely different part of North America, that she and Lee probably wouldn’t have been familiar with, and it took years for anyone including her to even notice.

This suggests daemons may be able to take forms that are unknown to them, but we never see a raccoon or an oppossum or a bobcat or some australian animal as a daemon as far as I know, so my best guess is that they had some secondhand knowledge of the arctic and had at least seen what an Arctic Hare looked like but forgot how to tell one apart from a jackrabbit, Hester had an unconscious longing for the North that neither of them were aware of, and she had a strong and possibly less-unconscious desire to get the hell out of Texas at sometime around settling age. And they assumed she was a jackrabbit because daemons usually don’t take forms they’re not familiar with.

Factor #4: Physical Preference

A daemon is not a shadow or a heraldic crest - they’re not just an insubstantial symbolic reflection. A daemon is an integral part of a person’s being, and they are one, but at the same time the daemon are a living, breathing creature even if their physical body is unstable. One soul, two bodies, two minds, two personalities. Their form subjects them to some - although not all - of the physical abilities and limitations that animal would have, and the same sensations.

Again, a daemon’s form is often influenced by what’s important to them, and to the pair. Most daemons take on a huge number of forms throughout childhood, and there are some things about those forms that are important to them. For some daemons the freedom of movement of flight is a fun, childish thing to play around with, and perhaps tactically useful, but it isn’t torture to give it up. For others, flight and the freedom it represents are their very heart and to be bound to a grounded form forever would be unbearable. Some can’t give up the ability to take small forms that can hide and go unnoticed, but some hate the vulnerability and helplessness of small size and could never be happy in a form that can’t walk alongside their human without fear of being kicked or stepped on. Some can’t give up the joy of swimming, or climbing, and for some their humans can’t. The daemon of someone who is a mountaineer and climber in their soul won’t be a snapping turtle. And... this is complicated, because part of it’s the human’s nature, but part of it is tied up in experiences which the human can feel too, and that are important to them, but they don’t experience in quite the same way.

Sometimes it’s just too convenient. Witches’ daemons are nearly always birds because witches spend much of their time in the air and can separate from their daemons, and only with flight of their own can a daemon take advantage of this power; in a flightless form they would take far longer to travel any distance, and their witches would have to land every time they separated or reunited. Another animal, like a fox or a mink or a rabbit, might fit with a witch’s nature too, but a witch’s daemon will become a hawk or a heron or a dove instead.

And sometimes a certain from is just comfortable and it just feels right even though the symbolism might not fit the stereotypes.

Factor #5: Human-Daemon Relationships

This is something I talked about a bit in my post about autism and daemons: the form a daemon settles as is often affected by the nature of their relationship with their human.

First of all: barring severe internal conflict or mental illness, while a daemon’s settled form is not chosen by the human and does not follow their whims, they don’t take a form that makes their shared life inconvenient and miserable. Out of how many sailors, John Faa and Farder Corram knew what, one guy with a dolphin daemon? Usually sailors’ daemons would be seabirds or otters, or animals like cats and rats that aren’t technically aquatic but are well-adapted to living on a boat. Does this mean that the sea isn’t their true love? No: it means no matter how much you love the sea being trapped on a ship for their entire life (and not even the entire ship: how high in the rigging can you climb without going too far from your daemon who can’t leave the water?) sucks and is actively dangerous. Imagine your ship is wrecked and your daemon carries you to shore through the storm (because humans die of hypothermia if left in the water too long in many parts of the oceans)... except you’re literally unable to get out of reach of the crashing waves that will drown you, sweep you away, or batter you to death, without dragging your daemon up the beach and then they’re stranding and dying, and you can’t go get fresh water which your body needs because your soul is an anchor binding you to the water. How many things that are a sailor’s job are you unable to do because you can’t go more than like ten yards from water deep enough to swim in?

Daemons do not consciously choose their forms, but their subconscious is not stupid. Taking a form like a dolphin doesn’t mean the daemon is symbolically expressing their nature, it means the human is denying it to the point where their own daemon is afraid of being torn away from it and cannot trust their human. But again, this event is happening at middle-school age, so what’s likely happening is something like a 14-year-old cabin boy falling in love with a girl in town and wanting to marry her and move inland and abandon the sea forever, and his daemon being horrified by the idea and wanting to make sure it can. not. happen. ever. And then both of their lives are ruined. Meanwhile the other cabin boy on the boat had a non-dysfunctional relationship with his daemon, who settled as a seagull and trusts that when he goes to visit family a little ways inland for a couple days it won’t be permanent.

Anyway: disregarding dysfunctional people like Mrs. Coulter, some humans and daemons are more physically affectionate with their counterparts than others, and in different ways.

Some pairs are happy spending most of their time at the edge of their not-painful range. Some pairs are perfectly comfortable with the daemon taking a tiny form and hiding in their human’s coat pocket most of the time and sneaking around the rest, and with the daemon hardly ever speaking to other humans, and that closeness and the moments of being held in the palm of their human’s hand and being stroked gently with one or two fingers is perfect for them. Some pairs are content with the distance a form like a bird of prey imposes, where the daemon must perch near their human because their claws would injure them if they landed on their shoulder or arm without protective clothing.

But many people and daemons are more “touchy” with each other, for whom the physical nature of the bond between human and daemon cannot possibly be given up. Some daemons settle in the forms they took to fly, or to hide, or spy, or fight, but many settle in the forms they took to rest, to soothe and comfort, to lick wounds and let their fur or feathers be stroked, to share body heat, and sometimes to help hold their humans upright or drag them to safety. Some pairs are content with the daemon sleeping on windowsills or perched on bedposts or on nightstands, or under beds or at the feet of them, but some curl up under the covers together whenever they can.

In less poetic terms, daemons settling in fluffy, huggable forms because they and their humans have a deep-seated need to cuddle with each other is just as valid as daemons settling as birds because they need the freedom of flight.

This is often the case for children whose need for touch is not met properly by others, or those for whom it is too much, or it cannot be trusted. Parents, friends, and lovers aren’t always there, but they are always there for each other. But there’s not always trauma or neglect involved, and it’s not always people who have few or no close and intimate bounds outside themselves. Plenty of content, well-adjusted people still have relationships like this with their daemons because we’re human beings and touch is important to us, and it doesn’t really matter if you share a soul.

#His Dark Materials fandom #daemon #silly headcanons

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o-w-quinlan · 3 years

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Digimon Adventure: (2020) Final Thoughts

Considering I stopped reviewing this series episode by episode months ago, they’re more positive thoughts than you’d expect, though still not all that positive.

To summarize, this is an entertaining series with plenty of individual good aspects and great episodes that nevertheless leaves me cold as a whole. Much as I enjoyed following it week to week, I can’t say I recommend this series to anyone but hardcore Digimon fans, or hardcore fans of the wider “monster” genre.

Action

It felt appropriate to start with this, considering a focus on action was what the initial interviews promised, and they delivered in spades. It wasn’t perfect or too consistent, there were several times when the Digimon not evolving when they could just broke any tension the fights had, but this series had some of the best fights in any Digimon anime. Anything in the first 3 episodes, Greymon/MetalGreymon vs MetalTyranomon, SkullKnightmon vs Greymon and Garurumon, Mugendramon vs DoneDevimon, Mugendramon vs WarGreymon, Millenniumon vs the dragons, Omegamon vs Abbadomon Core… all of them among the best things the franchise has to offer in terms of action scenes, which after so many series where fights were solved by having a protagonist Digimon evolve and one-shotting the enemy, comes as a breath of fresh air (to be fair, this series also had a lot of that, but it had actual great fights to compensate).

Worldbuilding

Another thing promised in interviews was the use of Digimon from all over the franchise, and not only did they deliver, but they also included plenty of references to the “null canon” to enrich the experience for the most hardcore fans. The series made sure to constantly emphasize the savage nature of the Digital World, bringing back the Tamers worldbuilding of Digimon consuming weaker Digimon in hopes of achieving evolution. Along the way we saw a lot of allies fighting back against this status-quo, from things as overt as Leomon organizing a resistance or Petaldramon protecting weaker Digimon from the all-consuming Entmon, to less dramatic stuff like weak Digimon settling down to live together, or the mere presence of a restaurant where everyone can rest for a while of the hardships of their world.

The biggest flaw here was in how the series handled its antagonists. With very few exceptions, every single enemy Digimon in the series lacked dialog, whereas nearly every single ally Digimon could speak normally, and this disparity cheapened the whole thing, because instead of coming across as “this mentality is normal for this world”, it came across as just your normal “everyone lived together in harmony until the villains attacked”, which is very much not what the series was telling us.

Characterization

That brings us to the next point: the lack of personality for most villains. I joked elsewhere that Minotaurmon from episode 19 was the most compelling villain of the series, and that’s not completely a joke. Almost every single villain of the week was flat, plenty of the “main” villains were lacking in dialog (Algomon in the first few episodes, Nidhoggmon, Millenniumon) or turned mindless halfway through (Devimon, DarkKnightmon). Negamon/Abbadomon in the final episodes managed to benefit from this by being the embodiment of an “instinct”, but in general this meant a mook-of-the-week like Minotaurmon managed to be a highlight among the villains simply by having dialog and non-trivial desires.

But what of the protagonists? The popular opinion is that everyone is far blander than they were in the original series, and I agree. But rather than comparing it with the first series, let’s look at what it had to offer to us. Where in other Digimon series, the backstories and issues of the protagonists and their reactions to what’s going on around them make for most of the drama, in this series the drama comes from the villains trying to destroy everything, and for the most part that means the protagonists only need to be distinct and charming on their own, no necessity to create conflict between them. There is an overall character arc for all of them, though: accepting and interiorizing their new duties towards the world they had ended up stranded on, getting to know and love the Digital World. Was this well done? Not really.

Taichi and Takeru, for example, were so much the embodiment of the stock shonen hero that accepting their place in this new world didn’t really reveal anything about them we hadn’t already seen from their first few appearances.

Jou got stuck as an unfunny punchline 90% of the time, to the point of damaging his few “serious” moments in some of his focus episodes. His development of becoming assertive was compelling in theory, but it got muddled with so many unfunny and uncomfortable hotsprings jokes that the impact was lost.

Hikari started as an even more blatant plot-device “mysterious character” than she was in the original series, before unconvincingly changing to cheerful little girl afterwards (the whiplash between her in episode 33 and her in episode 34 was something else), and only really managing to settle into a compelling character in her last focus episode (58, defending the Digitamas from the Bakemon and SkullBaluchimon, which to be fair is a great episode and probably the best showcase for Hikari as a character in any product or continuity).

Koushiro was mostly fine, although we all remember the several times the series seemed to promise it might do something with him (his uneasiness when his family was mentioned, or that line about having to “face the darkness of his past” in the HerakleKabuterimon episode) that ended up being nothing.

Mimi is the fan-favorite, being charming in nearly all her appearances and having some of the best focus episodes, and it’s mostly deserved. If there’s anything I criticize from her, it’s that her focus episodes don’t really add up to anything.

Yamato was fine, started out as a stock shonen rival before becoming the single most chill “lone wolf” in any Digimon series, probably because of what I said before of the conflict between the protagonists no longer being the source of drama. He gets a slow development of caring only for his brother to starting to care for other Digimon for the sake of Sora and Gabumon to caring about the Digital World just as much as everyone else.

Sora was made fun of by a certain section of the fandom for having the worst focus episodes early on, and I agreed, but having finished the series I can’t get rid of the impression that her focus episodes, while perhaps not that good on their own, when taken as a whole explore her character the best of any other. Yeah, this mostly means exploring her compassion (these are not very multi-dimensional characters), but they deepen and deepen both her impact on the Digimon she saves and how she is impacted in turn by them, moving her away from saving others through her combat prowess to saving others by empathizing with the grief of another caring soul, and by the end I honestly ended up considering her my favorite character (despite none of her episodes making it to my list of favorites).

As for the Digimon… it’s following in the footsteps of other Digimon Adventure products by not really having much of interest for the Digimon themselves except for Tailmon.

Overall, for the most part the main characters were decent, but besides Mimi and ultimately also Sora, I don’t think they’re very memorable. All of them start out promising, but never really improved from that promising start (again, except for Sora).

Pacing

And now we get to the biggest problem of the series: Pacing. I’ve seen it stated elsewhere that this series was more episodic than most (any?) other Digimon series before it, and part of the backlash it got was from not being as serialized as fans expected it to be. This isn’t exactly true. From episode 16 (Eyesmon) to episode 24 (DoneDevimon), this series was as serialized as any other Digimon series has ever been, with nonstop escalation that demanded you keep watching it week after week. Then, from 25 to 35 (Angewomon) or 36 (BlitzGreymon), it pulled slightly back from that never-ending escalation, but was still pretty serialized. It was only afterwards that it became heavily episodic, and by that point it wasn’t expectations set up by previous series that hurt it in the eyes of the fandom, it was expectations set by this series itself in its first half.

Not that the episodes themselves were bad. Honestly, I found myself significantly more entertained by the episodic later half of the series than the serialized first half. Maybe it was because they didn’t feel the need to convince me they were the most exciting, tense thing I had ever seen when they were clearly not (hello, Mamemon episode), or maybe it was that there were more than just endless fights to them, but I normally ended up those episodes entertained and satisfied, whereas with a lot of episodes from Eyesmon to BlitzGreymon, I mostly just felt frustrated after watching them. I agree with the criticism that, when seen as a whole, breaking momentum so hard for so long after months of never-ending escalation wasn’t the right choice, but when seen week after week, I can’t see this change of approach as that bad of a thing.

Conclusion

I think that sums up the series for me. On a weekly basis, it’s pretty entertaining. It’s when seen as a whole that the problems really become clear. There’s been some speculation in the past few weeks of how much the current situation in the world might have impacted the series, but ultimately, I have to judge what actually happened, and I can’t help the impression that this series ultimately left me with nothing of substance after it was all said and done. Like, I enjoyed this more than, say, Appli Monsters, but Appli Monsters have things that stick with you after it’s over. Not so much here, unless you’re a hardcore fan that loves the Omegamon lore this added (which I am, btw; love that Omegamon lore). I don’t think I can recommend this series to anyone who isn’t a hardcore Digimon fan, or at least a hardcore fan of the wider “monster” genre.

One thing I’m grateful to this series for, though, it’s the commercial boost it has given the rest of the franchise. I’m not going to credit it for all the successes it currently has, after all the Card Game would have fell off by now if it wasn’t genuinely well-done and the Vital Bracelet happened because of years of the virtual pet division progressively building up its audience after it had nearly died off, but it’s undeniable they wouldn’t have sold as well without this anime advertising the franchise week after week. Next week, we’ll have the first episode of Digimon Ghost Game, the first time since 2001 that we have a Digimon series being immediately succeeded by another. If that isn’t a sign of how well the franchise is doing right now, I don’t know what is.

Favorite Episodes: 1 (Tokyo Digital Crisis), 6 (The Targeted Kingdom), 12 (Lilimon Blooms), 20 (The Seventh One Awakens), 32 (Soaring Hope), 42 (King of Inventors, Gerbemon), 49 (The God of Evil Descends, Millenniummon), 56 (The Gold Wolf of the Crescent Moon), 58 (Hikari, New Life)

#digimon #Digimon Adventure:#Digimon Adventure 2020

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snowe-zolynn-rogers · 3 years

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Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,495 Words

Summary: The USJ training doesn’t go as planned.

Warnings: Fighting Mention, Injury Mention, Blood Mention, Near Death Mention, Death Mention, Weapon Mention, Stabbing Mention, Gun Mention, Shooting Mention, let me know if I should tag anything else.

Aizawa, We Agreed No More Cats: Chapter 3

A normal training exercise day is gone. Shinsou is staring at the villains down in by the fountain in abject horror like the other students did when they were told that this is real. He knew it was real the minute he saw them and he got his capture weapon ready like his new father was.

Everyone else was freaking out, but Shinsou felt oddly steady, even when he saw that giant monster. It was a weird calm that had settled on him. Like he knew what he was doing, as if he was standing guard between the hero course and these villains.

He wasted no time, immediately following Eraserhead into battle. He needed help, he couldn't do this alone. There had to be upward of two hundred petty criminals in the facility. He felt the training to fight them as if it was natural to him, even as his heartbeat thrummed in his ears.

"Hey, you're all stupid!" Shinsou yelled, quirk activated. He could have laughed when at least ten villains responded if not for the migraine and ring in his ears that came with that many people being under his quirk's control. He didn't wait and, instead, took them out left and right, using them as projectiles with his capture scarf to throw at their comrades.

His adrenaline was pumping way too much. Aizawa was fighting a blue haired guy, whose mist-like friend had disappeared, and Shinsou was taking out cronies left and right to to to get over to Eraserhead to help him. Aizawa was fighting their leader but he was still getting rid of minor players. Aizawa needed him.

He was hiding tears when he saw Aizawa getting his elbow decayed because of that blue guy because he wasn't able to do anything with a stubborn brute of a dude trying to swing at him and he wasn't able to do anything but dodge, let alone fight or get over to his dad to help.

A second of reprieve once he'd slammed the head of the guy trying to grab him into the ground, hard, was broken by that giant monster grabbing Aizawa. His heart nearly stopped as it fell and he heaved air. He couldn't lose a father he just gained, they didn't even have time to properly bond yet. They'd never even done anything as father and son yet besides their surprise fight against these villains.

The screech that thing let out was inhuman and he fell back, shaking, crying. He couldn't do nothing to help Aizawa, but his body just wasn't listening to him. He had to move. The screams that Aizawa's newly broken arms came with made him scramble to his feet, hands shaking, holding his capture weapon and he readied himself for whatever came.

"A brat fighting alongside a Pro. What a brave soul you must be, little one. How befitting of the UA Hero Course to rescue a pro when they're not even licensed yet! I'll revel the trouble you'll get in if you survive this." The blue man addressed him after taunting Aizawa. His adoptive father was being injured before him. He knew Aizawa would want him to run away, to hide. But he couldn't leave him like this.

"Leave him alone." Shinsou managed to whisper.

"Leave him alone? You and him took out half of the criminals I brought with me. A couple of them were friends of mine, you know." Shinsou's eyes bolted around as the man lectured before the mist man came over and told the blue one that someone got out.

Little boy blue with his dozen gruesome hand accessories seemed distressed, even said they'd go home. Shinsou was shaking still. Mist man was completely emotionless, could be because he was just a cloud of black smoke or because he actually didn't care.

That monster still had his father and he couldn't do anything about it. How would he even get that thing to respond to him? He didn't want that thing hurting Aizawa if it got violent under his control while trying to break free of his brainwashing either.

"Before we leave, let's make sure the Symbol of Peace is broken. Let's wreck his pride." The blue man moved before he could think and was suddenly over at where Midoriya, Asui, and Mineta were. He adjusted dials on his Artificial Vocal Cords faster than he thought was possible.

"We must leave before other Pros show up!" He used that mist man's voice with his Brainwashing.

"In a moment, Kurogiri." He responded, he actually responded. He could have cried, he probably was. The hand man was stunned and wasn't moving. But, before Shinsou could do anything, Aizawa's face had been smashed into the ground again and then, in what couldn't have been more than a split second, he felt pain aching in his own head with his ears ringing and rubble beneath his face.

"NO!" Midoriya? He felt blood under his hand and face. Was that his? Or was it Aizawa's?

"Dad." He forced himself up to his hands and his eyes open. He had to get them out. He wouldn't lose his father. He saw Aizawa in front of him, it was Aizawa's blood and his own under him.

He forced his knees under him and, seeing blurs of that monster and the blue man, he covered Aizawa sideways for a moment with his own body. Something instinctual told him he'd rather get hurt than lose the only decent parental figure he'd ever had.

The dizziness from getting hit into the ground again was a definite shock. He felt fuzzy, everything felt fuzzy. But he saw Aizawa hadn't been moved, hadn't even been touched.

He'd landed on his Dad's upper back sideways but he wasn't anymore hurt by that ghastly monstrosity. The monster was gone, so was blue boy. They weren't by him anymore, so he didn't care where they were.

"Dad. Dad, please wake up." Aizawa groaned in pain and that was all he needed. He forced his body up and he got his grounding, although dizzy, as he got to kneeling. He protectively grabbed the pro and slung his arm over his shoulder. He had to get them away. They'd both fought as much as they could, he had to get them to safety before they died fighting.

The minute he'd struggled to his stumbling feet was the minute AllMight had burst in. He watched as the whole building went eerily quiet at his arrival and then came the few villains they hadn't defeated were talking about the Symbol of Peace.

He didn't pay attention to what AllMight was saying. He didn't care. He was busy trying to stumble toward the exit. The villains that were standing didn't even bother with him, so he didn't bother with them.

"Get out of my way." He growled at AllMight as the stupid Symbol of Peace invaded his vision. He pushed on by him, he didn't care.

"Young Shinsou." AllMight put a gentle hand on his back and he was suddenly up on the second landing of the stairs. He could get himself out. He kept going, he wasn't going to give up.

He growled at a villain that dared enter his vision, dared enter his personal space. Dare touch Aizawa with clear intent to harm him. He stabbed her with a blade in the shoulder while shoving her down the stairs in her shock, and kept going.

He heard fighting in the background, he didn't care. The stairs were difficult, he had no time to focus on the fighting and he was sure everyone up top was busy with Thirteen. He had to get Aizawa out of here.

Hands came to help him up and he was vaguely aware that Sero and Uraraka were helping him up the stairs, Uraraka making Aizawa weightless so they could carry him easier.

A gunshot rang in his ears. He looked up numbly to see the UA teachers as they began taking down villains. He saw Snipe and his newly minted Uncle Yamada and Aunt Kayama.

"Help him. Please. Dad needs help." He was seeing stars as he let Aunt Kayama and Vlad King finally take Aizawa from him and he dropped like a fly with all his adrenaline gone down the drain.

He vaguely was aware that Snipe was the one to have caught him and he was doing so one armed as he was shooting at someone. He didn't quite care but he hoped his bullets went right for that blue guy and that monster.

He didn't have much time to really speculate on anything before he was passing out against a pro hero all while he heard Mina scream when she, presumably, saw the bloody condition he and his father were in.

Everything just simply went dark and he hoped he woke up in a hospital with a father still and not in a grave or going to a funeral.

Taglist: @everythingisstardust

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strawberrysoup · 4 years

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Let’s Review || Chapter 22

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-consensual&dark sexual situations, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat additional warnings: open the read more, CTRL + F and search “content warnings” to skip to the additional "spoiler-y" tags for trigger warnings

hey guys! i made a ko-fi! if you enjoy this and have some cash you could spare to help me out with my bills, id really appreciate it! if you follow the link and check out the ‘posts’, there’s a snippet for ch. 4 of posies!

Their parents had died a few months after her thirteenth birthday and Penny essentially blacked out for the next 8 months. She didn’t remember anything from that school year, although she’d evidently scraped by in all of her classes—actually, Penny was still convinced that little Peter, who was already showing signs of being a tiny genius, had done at least half of her homework. She didn’t remember Hanukkah that year, or the first Christmas she’d ever celebrated with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. She had zero friends coming out of that year, having accidentally pushed everyone away in fits of rage or sadness that she couldn’t even remember. The pain cut just as deep every time she remembered showing up to school the first day of her freshman year only to receive the cold shoulder from half her grade.

That was actually one of the first memories she’d retained after coming out of 7 months and 3 weeks of complete emptiness, how none of her best friends wanted anything to do with her. Everything had been confusing, somehow devastating all over again but… it was less. Her parents were gone and it hurt so much but it was nothing compared to the agony that had beset her form seconds after being informed her mom and dad were dead. When Penny racked her brain she could almost remember Aunt May crouched in front of her while she sat on the couch at home, holding her hands.

Somewhere in her brain, Penny had known that plane crashes were possible. Like, as a concept she understood the idea. The plane that was flying through the air stops doing that, and all the people inside the plane die. But it couldn’t possibly happen to her parents—they were her parents, they were infallible. Plane crashes happened, yeah, but her parents couldn’t be gone. Aunt May had told her several years later that she and Ben had been petrified she would try to kill herself, especially when the state tried to take the young girl away from the Parker’s.

They’d never had the money for therapy and Penny figured she’d never regain the memories from those months but honestly, she didn’t want them. The gaps were reprieves, the missing conversations, the absence of any and all detail. Wasn’t she sad to not remember her eighth-grade graduation? Fuck no, it was a blessing to forget how she’d felt like everyone in existence had their eyes on her—except for the ones she wanted.

There were times she absently wondered how disappointed her parents would be that she didn’t finish college, let alone get an actual high school degree. Her dad had been so smart, a genius in his own right. And her mom… Penny tried not to think of her mom often, not when it hurt so deeply. Mary Parker had been a gentle soul with an IQ of 150 who made Penny feel safe and loved and understood every day of her life. Her mother would’ve been understanding, she would’ve seen the necessity in her dropping out but it would’ve hurt that gentle soul to know the opportunities her baby had missed.

It hurt Penny in a special way that neither of Mary and Richard Parker’s children would be graduating from high school. Neither would attend university. They wouldn’t go on to press the limits of their parent’s knowledge or make an impact on the world. Somehow despite everything she’d sacrificed, Peter would never get the opportunity that he deserved. Her genius baby brother, his potential capped before he had a chance to try. God, it was an agonizing burn in her chest, a searing pain that made her nauseous and light-headed.

Her heart was pounding so hard she wondered if her ribs would crack. The cabin was lovely. Dark wood and an A-frame, a nice deck in the back and lots of windows. It was surrounded by trees, with dark needles or thin pale trunks, the purple mountains of the Rockies a lovely backdrop. It was colder than she’d expect for summer, especially considering the overcast sky and the breeze. The clouds moved so fast at such a high altitude and Penny watched trembling as a shadow passed over the house, chasing the light away before the sun followed its path ravenously once more.

Steve and Bucky were unloading suitcases from the back of the SUV, passing each other calculating looks as Penny stood practically frozen in place. Her shoulders were hunched almost to her ears, arms wrapped gently but tightly around the white kitten in her arms. It was purring quietly, the same way it had been for hours now. The little thing had cried the first few hours after they’d left the tower and subsequently the chubby cheeked orange kitten behind, only settling when Penny laid down across the middle seat in the SUV and let it burrow into the crook of her neck.

If Penny turned around she would’ve recognized the mournful looks on their faces, the pain in the lines of their eyes. The soldiers knew the hurt she felt, to be separated from their most important person—they understood that Peter was the most important person in Penny’s world. This separation was on their heads, but what could they do? They’d worked themselves into a rut, the three of them, wearing such deep treads into their negative behaviors that they couldn’t climb out. A complete shakeup was the only solution.

Both winced when she abruptly folded at the waist, clutching the kitten to her chest, and vomited over the pine needle strewn dirt of the driveway. Her hair fell in heavy, curly curtains around her face as she heaved again, hiding her tear-streaked face from the soldiers’ view. The sound of them setting the bags they held down registered in Penny’s ears but she couldn’t find the strength to collect herself before they converged on her.

“Come ‘ere doll, lemme take you up to the bathroom,” Bucky stated quietly, sweeping her and the cat up into his arms as gently as he could, “you can take a bath while me and Steve get everything unloaded. I think you’ll really like the cabin baby, we… well, we designed it just for you. If there’s anything you want to change, you just tell us. We want it to be perfect for you.”

She mostly caught flashes of green and white and brown, tucking her chin to look at the kitten snuggled into her cleavage. It felt cruel, to have taken the white one and left the orange, but the little chubby-cheeked kitten had taken to her brother so well—better than it had taken to her, even. Peter had named it Malcah and while it still didn’t like being picked up or held, it twined his ankles and meowed at him for love.

“Sit here baby,” the soldier set her carefully on the lid of the toilet, after having climbed a set of stairs and turned multiple blurry corners, “let me run your bath.”

It was all white tile, the toilet built into the wall. The tub was a freestanding clawfoot, with a spray nozzle and high sides. It was surprisingly small, considering how large the tub in the tower had been. Penny idly speculated that only perhaps one of the soldiers would be able to fit at time and it would certainly be a tight squeeze if she was forced in with them. There was a standing shower on the other side, where the roof wasn’t so sharply sloped by the A-framed roof. The nice thing, that Penny would never admit was very nice, was all of the plants. The entire room was predominantly white but there was a long-vined philodendron hanging gracefully over the tub, snake plants sitting on the shelf before the toilet. She could see a rubber plant and another type of vine by the sinks, framing the mirror.

They’d obviously gone to great lengths to make sure it would be something she liked, clearly evidenced by the bathroom alone. There were even candles waiting to be used on the antique, hunter green shelves and bath bombs with lovely scents. If she’d been able to design a personal bathroom, Penny figured it would probably have looked something like this and that made her hate it all the more.

The bastards were so in their heads they could barely see the sunlight. Penny was convinced that they were so distracted orchestrating her nightmare they’d lost the plot. They kept throwing stuff at her; beautiful plants, nice clothing, cute cats, lovely homes—but it didn’t mean a single thing. All of the possessions in the world didn’t make up for the gaping, rotting hole in her chest.

“Alright doll, let’s get you undressed,” Bucky shifted towards her once the water was at the right temperature and filling the tub, a small smile on his stubbled face.

“Do you think I’m debilitated?” She rasped after a moment, rolling her eyes up to stare him in the face before spitting a vomit speckled wad of phlegm onto the rug by her feet and setting the kitten on the shelf next to the snake plants. “Last time I checked I didn’t need to be treated like a baby. Are you gonna keep standing over me like a pervert? Get out.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, surprised by the calmness behind her cutting tongue. Usually, when Penny got an attitude, it came with fury and fists and resulted in broken bones or bleeding wounds. This was overwhelmingly controlled; a bitchy rebuttal. Her voice was the gravelly tone she usually got after screaming or crying, dark brown eyes nearly black. When he didn’t move, Penny rolled her eyes and stood, whipping her t-shirt over her head and dropping it to the ground.

“You’re bein’ a little moody, babe,” Bucky watched calmly as she undressed, her clothes piling up on the floor. “Wanna think about reigning it in?”

Penny’s hair was big and curly around her face, framing the clenched jaw and sneering nose. “What are you gonna do, kill me? Whatever.”

“Penny, what—”

“Peter is a thousand miles away,” Penny’s voice started out sharp but very quickly faded into a tired drawl, “you can’t hurt him from here. And what do I care if you hurt me? So could you either get the fuck out and let me take a bath or fucking drown me in it? Whatever it takes for this interaction to be over.”

“Are you looking for a punishment right now?” Bucky’s lips pulled down at the corners, eyebrows furrowing, “‘Cause you’re working your way towards one really quick.”

“What’re you gonna do? Kill someone in front of me?” She groaned, reaching up to dig her fingers into the roots of her hair, tugging sharply before dragging it into a tangled, thoughtless bun on the top of her head “Or spank me until I can’t sit? Rape me? Could you just get it over with? I want to be alone, please!”

Bucky was silent for several long seconds before sighing through his nose, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. “Take your bath, think about your fuckin’ attitude. Steve and I are gonna bring the bags in.”

He left the door open and Penny was further irritated to learn he had too much dignity to stomp down the stairs the way she’d hoped he would. His break in composure had been so good for her it was unbelievable—but there was likely a punishment on the horizon and Steve wasn’t likely to let her off easy once the brunet told him what she’d said. The bastard was stone cold when it came to that shit.

She stared idly at the steaming bath, naked with her clothes piled around her feet—the question was whether she wanted a bath or if she’d been resigned to it? The water was scented, because of course it was. It was even one of her favorite citrusy scents, she noted disdainfully, another thing they had paid so much attention to while keeping her locked up in a tower like fucking Rapunzel. Now in a cabin, she figured she was a Jewish Goldilocks surrounded by hungry bears.

But it smelled nice and her body ached from the long car ride, it had already been run so why not hop in? Besides, it would keep her busy while the soldier’s fucked around and she wouldn’t have to see them for a bit. They were shuffling around and she could hear the sounds of bags being placed around the cabin. The door banged off the walls several times, always accompanied by a groan or a curse, one of which she recognized as a Yiddish swear—which she refused to find endearing. The kitten meowed at her from its position on the shelf, looking put out to be so far away but Penny shushed it quietly.

“You won’t like the water, just stay there,” she murmured quietly at the distraught little creature, picking up a washcloth and dunking it into the perfumed water. “If I come get you I’ll make a huge mess.”

She ignored the kitten as it continued to communicate with her, chittering in annoyance and pawing the edge of the ledge for several minutes before evidently surrendering and lying down with its little paws draped over the edge. Penny smiled to herself, the cat’s tail was roughly the size of its body and when it curled the fluffy mass of fur around itself it became unrecognizable as a cat. The orange one would’ve continued to complain until Penny let it down, would’ve just barely given her ankles a rub before running off to hide somewhere.

That’s why she decided to leave Malcah with Peter; the orange cat didn’t run from or scratch him. She twined his ankles, sat next to his thigh on the couch, kneaded her little paws against him. Peter had decided both kittens were female, based on the very reasonable basis that he wanted them to be. Penny wasn’t sure, didn’t quite care. The only thing she ever referred to the cats as was Chatul—which literally meant cat in Hebrew. She’d shortened it to Tuly for the white kitten, for the sake of ease, but refused to say it in front of the soldiers. The cat was hers, she didn’t have to share it with them.

The sounds of the soldiers were becoming more consistent throughout the cabin and Penny figured they must’ve brought in all of the bags and were focused on unpacking. She could hear someone down in the kitchen, unloading the masses of groceries they’d brought up the mountain while the other was in the bedroom. Penny rubbed the washcloth over her skin lightly, the oils from the fragrance making her skin soft and slippery.

She didn’t hear him come in, she felt Steve come in. The blond’s presence was just as overwhelming as Tony Stark’s, an aura bigger than his body that filled the room. She could feel the disappointed stare, even as she continued to wipe herself down with the washcloth. Her teeth ground together as he watched in silence, just waiting.

“Bucky said you’ve caught an attitude, baby doll.”

“Caught an attitude?” She rolled her eyes. “Wow, if only I hadn’t become desensitized to living in constant terror—you never would’ve realized I’ve had an attitude the whole time!”

“We’re supposed to be turning a new page, Pen.”

“Turning a—” Penny scoffed, face appalled as she abruptly stood from the bath and ignored the water going everywhere, “we’re not turning a new page—You burnt the fucking book!”

The blond’s eyes widened; Penny had gotten angry in the past, furious even. She’d broken things, broken skin, broken bones and it was always accompanied by outraged screaming. But Penny didn’t make unnervingly straight eye contact while she did it. She was barely coherent at the best of times, mostly she screamed to the room at large before flying into a violent frenzy—it was different. It was startling, the light in her eyes and the way her voice cracked.

“There is no page turning, there’s no fucking—fucking reconciliation here, Steve,” she snatched a towel from the rack behind the tub, wrapping the light green fabric around her chest tightly, “I can’t believe after, fuck, how long has it been? A month and a half? Two months? What fucking day is it?”

“…It’s July 2nd,” he found himself choking out, still feeling shell shocked as she stepped out of the tub.

“A month and a half,” Penny’s face twitched, just barely concealing the distraught look he could see she wanted to make and she started shifting past him, “Jesus Christ after a month and a half you guys still don’t get it—you know what, never mind. After a month and a half, I should’ve been smart enough to realize what dumbasses you both are.”

“Penny—”

“God, fuck!” She shouted up at the ceiling, stopping in place halfway out the door. “I have listened to you two talk at length for what’s apparently been a month and a half! I have tried to listen to your stupid fucking rules, I put in the fucking effort and you still decided to take away the one thing I care about! I’m sick and tired of you saying my name in that fucking tone, I’m tired of constantly internalizing and I’m tired of being fucking walked on! So I’ll tell you what I told Bucky—either kill me or leave me alone, but for fucks’ sake just give me space!”

A low mew followed her statement and Penny made an abrupt about face, stomping past him to snatch up the kitten from where it had been sitting on the ledge and storming past him again. It was like getting brushed by a wildfire and Steve fought the urge to take a step back when her wet hair whipped against him.

She dug through one of the bags that held her belongings angrily, kitten on her shoulder, knowing that the blond continued to watch her from the bathroom doorway. Shorts, underwear, a sports bra, a t-shirt, and a hoodie over that. She would’ve put on socks but she knew it bothered Steve when she went barefoot.

“Come downstairs, precious,” he sighed after watching her dress, gesturing towards the stairs, “we’ve got to talk.”

“We’ve always got to talk,” Penny snorted derisively but started down the stairs anyway, Tuly back in her arms, “but it’s usually just you two telling me what I can and can’t do. Stop bossing me around.”

Steve followed after her, aghast and confused—Penny had always been brave in the situations she was forced into, whether it was taking custody of her fourteen year old brother or dealing with being kidnapped from her apartment by a billionaire criminal, but she hadn’t ever antagonized before. She’d talked back, got irritated, snapped, but she hadn’t ever just been flat out bitchy.

On the main floor, Bucky had already put away all of the groceries and was folding up the cloth shopping bags to tuck away for next time. The brunet’s eyes locked on Penny for several long calculating seconds and her hackles raised; whatever was coming was going to be annoying. She refused to be afraid though, not when there wasn’t anything to lose. Not anymore.

“Sit on the couch, let’s talk,” Steve directed, watching as she seemed to contemplate following the direction before doing so, “things are obviously going to be different here, precious.”

“The cabin is equipped with the same AI as the tower but its restricted to monitoring and safety protocols,” Bucky explained, gesturing to the open layout of the main floor, “you’ll be able to go outside so long as you ask first, there’s plenty to do out there. When Steve bought it there was an overgrown vegetable garden out there, we had it cleaned up for you and the shed fixed up and stocked. A lot of good hiking around here too.”

“I can’t talk to JARVIS?” She asked, eyes tracking the way the soldier’s exchanged glances. “Of course not. Then I would have some sort of interaction beyond the pair of you. Damaging to your plan, huh?”

“Penny, the rules didn’t end just because we’re out of the tower,” Steve had one hand braced on his hip while the other rubbed over his forehead, “be—”

“If you say Be Sweet I’ll find a way to kill myself,” Penny intoned, a dry look on her face. “Jews don’t have an afterlife you know, I’m not afraid of going to Hell.”

“Penny, we’re trying—”

“Penny we’re trying,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, dead eye stare once again boring into Bucky’s, “I’m not. I’m done trying. You’ll either kill me or drive me insane, I’ll never see Peter again—I…I failed. I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t even keep him safe until he was an adult, isn’t that insane? Grand total of three years and some change and I fucked it up.”

Penny stood up from the couch, shaking her head as she went. The kitten was quick to jump off the couch and follow after her, meowing while that massive fluffy squirrel tail curled over its back. The open floor plan of the cabin came in handy for the soldiers though, because she couldn’t really escape even as she walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

It was hard to pretend she didn’t actually love the cabin. The kitchen was small, located beneath the loft that held the bedroom and bathroom. The railing to the loft was covered in live vines that hung down to create a tiny illusion of separation between the living room and kitchen, the kitchen itself was sage green with white and dark brown accents. There were more plants, open cabinets mounted to the walls, the sink was small but there was a dishwasher. She loved the spiral staircase that led up to the loft, framing the kitchen to the left with small shiny baubles hanging from it.

There was a hamsa and a cross, both stained glass and hanging from the tallest step. Pretty cat toys hung from the lower railings, just within the kitten’s reach. It made Penny’s skin itch, just how lovely and perfect the whole cabin was. More evidence that they were paying a freaky amount of attention to her and every move she made.

“You didn’t fail, doll,” Bucky’s tone was quiet and he hesitated for a moment before following after her several paces, ending up on the edge of the kitchen, “You didn’t fuck it up, Peter—”

“Peter is trapped in a prison in New York with a creep more than twice his age who wants to violate and brainwash him,” Penny was on her knees in front of the fridge, digging through the crisper drawer in the bottom. “Literally all I had to do to prevent that from happening was pay more attention to his daily life. Fuck, kid was practically raising himself with how often I was gone—never stood a chance, you know?”

“Don’t think like that Penny,” Steve sighed, leaning down to pick up the kitten that had circled back to his ankles and setting it on his shoulder, “there’s nothing you could’ve done. You know who Tony Stark is, you know what he’s capable of. You can’t heap that guilt on your shoulders.”

“Oh, can’t I?” She hummed, absently throwing a package of bacon onto the floor, followed by a flat of raw chicken and beef. “There can be dairy in here or there can be meat, not both.”

“We might need a second fridge,” Bucky observed quietly, watching Penny drop a couple of deli bags with sandwich meat onto the ground before she started shuffling everything into different places within the cooler. “We could keep it in the shed?”

“No room,” Steve shook his head absently, “garage?”

Penny had collected a stack of items from the fridge and piled them onto the counter, not even bothering to look back on the soldiers as she began puttering around. The open-faced cabinets on the walls held mostly dishes and containers filled with ingredients and she ducked down, opening the lower cabinets and digging out several pans.

“Do you… do you want a hand, doll?” Bucky asked hesitantly after several moments, watching her collect ingredients and tools and turn on the stove.

“No.”

“Penny—”

“Can I make lunch please?” She whipped around, an irritated look on her face and a spatula in hand, looking like she was about to use it to beat them both, “I’m hungry and I want to die, I figure you’ll only allow me to fulfill one of those wants so can you let me cook?”

The next thing she knew, Penny had been swept up into Bucky’s arms. The solider looked confused, lips curled in frustration but his brow furrowed with dismay. She stiffened at the action when he stomped back to the couch and sat down roughly, dropping her over his knees and landing a smarting blow to her ass through her shorts without warning.

“Thirty for this fucking attitude,” he barked, yanking the shorts down until the waistband settled under the curve of her ass against the tops of her thighs, “count.”

A sharp inhale followed the first skin to skin hit and Penny snarled in response, “one.”

“Apologize,” Steve’s fingers tangled into her hair, extracting the hair tie and letting the curls fall in chaotic waves over her shoulders and face.

“Two,” she counted dutifully and angrily, narrowed eyes landing on Steve’s face, “I’m sorry you’re a fucking monster!”

“That just added ten more, Penny,” Bucky sighed through gritted teeth, “you better reign it in.”

“You better just kill me,” she rasped, nails digging into his leg where she was holding on for balance through the hits, “because I won’t reign it in. I’m sick to death of you motherfuckers—Oh, fuck, three!”

“No cursing during punishments, start from one,” Steve ordered darkly, the hand in her hair pulling taught as he glanced into Bucky’s eyes—the baffling combination of anger and dismay and loss in the brunet’s eyes let him know he wasn’t the only one scrambling.

“Fuck you!” Penny shook her head roughly as if to dislodge his hand, canting her head to the side the best she could manage to look him in the eye, “beat me black and blue, I don’t fucking care. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter anymore! Nothing fucking matters.”

content warnings: spanking *edit, addition content warning: disrespectful terminology for Jewish people

#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x oc #bucky barnes x oc #steve rogers x oc x bucky barnes #dark!fic

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 5- Buried Remembrances

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? Honestly I don’t know how I am doing. I had a massive breakdown just now and my mom is still yelling at me. Everything has just been a mess. So, please ignore any mistakes, and I am really sorry if it is not good. I am just not in the best state of mind rn and if I don’t post it, I will never get it done. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you still enjoy reading whatever this is 💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: ~2K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, They've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex were stupefied on seeing Mark's condition. He was the jolliest man they have ever known, his happy-go-lucky personality and on-point sense of humour acted as a charm on the surrounding people. This was one of the qualities which made him an amazing doctor because he could relieve patients from their sorrows and pain and make them open up.

But seeing him like this, so broken, so fragile made them realize that a smile sometimes hides a thousand scars behind it.

"Mark, listen to me!! I cannot see you like this. Please calm down. I am damn worried" Alex said, keeping tears at the brink.

"Lex, I love you. You are my strength, my power. Hell, you are my everything. Don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to tell what I want to. And the pain will again kill me inside." Mark pleaded.

"Okay, I will try to keep as calm as possible. But, promise me, if matters start getting out of hand, you will stop." Alex said.

"Yes, Mark. If someone knows something about painful childhoods that is Ethan and me. So if you can't talk about it, you won't talk about it. We are heck worried about you, man!" Pooja said.

"I Promise. If I feel like having a nervous breakdown, I will stop. But please hear me out. These memories have stayed hidden for so long that now they feel like a burden. I need to get them out."

Then Mark began continuing his story,

"Remember when I told you in the car that I had a brother?"

"Yes, you said that. I suppose your pain was caused by your brother's death?" Ethan asked

"Ha Ha Ha" Mark let out a bitter laughter. "No, that man is not dead. Yes, my pain is caused by my brother but not by his death. By his deeds."

"He was my favourite person in the world. He was my best friend, my study partner, the person who would listen to my endless rambles. He was the only person who understood me and my thoughts. Or, at least that's what I th-th-thought."

Mark paused, face pale. Something was not right.

"Mark, are you alright? MARK!?" Alex exclaimed.

Mark was slowly losing consciousness. He said slowly, "P-P-Please t-t-take m-me-home... I-I c-can't stand b-being here."

The three sprang into action. Ethan helped Mark in the backseat of the car. Alex sat beside him, placing his head on her shoulder. Pooja sat in the passenger seat. Ethan got behind the wheel and drove to their penthouse.

After reaching, they seated Mark and tried to change the topic for him to feel better. The tension cooled down, and Mark felt better.

"You all are the damn best people in the world. I could never imagine anyone to be so concerned for me. Everybody used to see a happy face and think I am fine. But no one understood my pain like you three do." Mark said, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.

"But, I need to complete my tale. Now that I am feeling better and that we are home, I am sure there will be no more troubles."

Mark continued his story.

"Also, did I tell you that my brother was my inspiration to become a doctor? He was the first doctor in our family. When he was in Med school, he used to tell me the things he learnt. He built that interest for medicine in me."

"Wait a sec!" Pooja stopped him abruptly. "Stop me if I am over-stepping, but your brother is a doctor?! But, But-" She couldn't complete the sentence, but everyone understood what she was thinking.

"Baby, we should not jump into conclusions. Let Mark complete." Ethan stopped her from putting out her thoughts.

"Yes, my brother is or at least was a doctor. B-Before he, he..." Mark stuttered.

"Before he was arrested."

The three gasped. Mark's brother, was arrested?!

"Wait what, he was... arrested? But why? " Alex said, surprise in her tone.

"He, he was arrested for prescribing the WRONG DOSES OF MEDICINES TO HIS PATIENTS" Mark shouted, anger boiling and tears welling up in his eyes. "HE FREAKING MURDERED AT LEAST 3 OF HIS PATIENTS BECAUSE HE PRESCRIBED THEM SUPER HIGH DOSES OF THEIR DRUGS" The tears left his eyes.

"A-And he didn't stop there. He tried to k-k-kill our dad. He...He tried to inject a heavy dose of benzodiazepine to our dad." Mark completed. The horror and shock was evident on the other three's faces. Mark's brother, tried... to kill his dad? But why?

"But why in god's name did he ever do that?" Ethan asked.

"No one knows. The police questioned him for days, months, but got no reply. The only thing he used to do was laugh on their faces and tell them that he will get his revenge." Mark said.

"The day he was arrested, since that day he was considered dead by our family. But the news had a devastating effect on our family. Patients called, hurled abuses, threatened to kill. The neighbours threatened to throw us out. With my dad being sick, me and my mom had to bear it all. All this broke her. So once I got into residency, I took my mom and dad out of that horrid place and brought them to NYC with me."

"But their joy lasted less. My mom, she died within six months of transferring. My dad stayed a little longer. T-The last day of my residency was the last day of is life. And you know what were his last words?"

"What?" The other three asked in unison.

"Don't become Miles" Mark says, tears flowing down his eyes. But, as the three observed, a sense of calm spread through his face. As if a weight had been lifted, from his soul.

"So your brother's name was..."

"Miles, yaa."

"Mark, I hope you are feeling better now. Getting that all out, it must have been a hell of a pain." Pooja asked, remembering her painful childhood.

"Yes, it is. God, I needed to do this. Now I am feeling so fresh, so new. I can finally leave those dark times behind me and start leaving a new life." Mark spoke with a flicker of new hope, new life.

All the while, listening to Mark's story, Pooja was thinking about her pain. Her tale, her own story. She saw how calm and peaceful Mark was after getting it all out. Even after trying, she couldn't remember him being this peaceful, anytime before. She realized that today or tomorrow, she had to take it all out. No matter how hard she tried to bury it, it would come out.

"Mark, do you think, you-your brother could do..." Alex asked with a bit of uneasiness.

"Nothing impossible for a man who tried to kill his father. And also, I am damn sure if the card brought us to my childhood neighbourhood, it would lead to his private clinic. Only he had his practice set up there." Mark scoffed.

"We should look into that. But first we need to check on the questions we had written in our notebook. We need to complete the research as soon as possible. Mark, Lex, can you stay here for the night, we could finish it today itself if you two could be here." Ethan said.

"Yaa, we surely can. No, we would love to. You know, whose is a better tension-calmer than me, hmm? I am a humour boss." And with that, old Mark was back.

"Sure, Mark, sure. But maybe the points to the best sarcasm goes to Lex?" Ethan chuckled.

"Ohh, Ramsey. That's what makes me and Walton soulmates." Mark said, trying to pull Alex into a hug.

"Mark, SHUT UP! You know I hate hugs. I hugged you earlier because I was hecking worried. Now, hush!" Alex said, trying to hide a giggle and spectacularly failing

After a few more moments of laughter, the four set to work. They thought they would not find much about their questions on the 'net, but what they read shocked them more and more. As they got the information, they started writing it down below the respective questions.

1. Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Richard Davis. 43. Investment banker. Originally pursuing Medicine, later went on to pursue his interest in investment banking.

2nd part: No answer

2. Why did no one from his associations never come to question about him?

No answers

3. Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

No answer. But speculating that the murderer is Miles Danvers.

4. How was the murder committed?

Acute cyanide poisoning. Throat slit afterwards.

5. Addresses.

Address No. 1 checked, the MedMinders Store. Not checked Address 2 but is possibly Miles Danvers's private clinic.

6. MedMinders Drug Store

Checked. Valuable information received.

7. D.I.B.S.15

No Idea.

"So far, so less. We are beautifully lacking on information." Mark remarked.

"Agreed. Agreed. But wasn't this man supposed to be high-profile?" Alex said

"Maybe high-profile with full pockets. Not fame." Pooja said.

Ethan however, did not partake in the discussion. He was busy thinking something.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?" Pooja asked on seeing his furrowed eyebrows."

"I think I might know what D.I.B.S.15 means," Ethan said

"What? I mean, how? That could mean anything" Alex said, visibly surprised.

"No, not anything. I think it means, 'Davis, Investment Banker, Scam 2015" Ethan put out his thoughts.

"D, understood, I.B, understood, but S and 15? How did you deduce them to be scam 2015?" Pooja asked.

"I remember reading about it. It was one of the biggest investment scams ever. And it was speculated that some high-profile investment banker was behind it. But the real culprit was never caught." Ethan laid out his thoughts.

"So, this man is a fish of the deep waters. He is so much more than what we thought." Mark said

"And that also means that if somebody had come to know about it, then he had enough enemies. This mystery is getting tangled with every passing moment." Alex said.

While talking and discussing possible theories, they looked at the clock. 2 at night.

"Oh, dear! We have work tomorrow. God, let's get some sleep, otherwise we will be like living zombies in the halls tomorrow." Pooja said, giggling.

The four tidied up the living room, said their goodnights and went to sleep.

The nightmares began again. Pooja couldn't sleep an ounce. She was too afraid to close her eyes. The memories terrified her.

Enough. No more nightmares. No more suffering. No more sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling so powerless.

"Ethan, Ethan" She gave him a jerk.

"What is it, Poo? Are you okay, is it the nightmares again?" Ethan woke up with a start.

"I need to tell you. All about this. I cannot bear it any more." Pooja said.

"I am all ears, baby. Tell me everything. If this can make you sleep, I am ready to wake all night to listen to you." Ethan said, pulling her in his arms.

Enclosed in his arms, she laid it all in front of him. The way her mother was murdered. The way she was kidnapped when she was only 11. The terror she felt when she was all alone. The horror when she saw the bloody knife. And the heartbreak and pain she felt when it was found out to be her aunt, her mother's sister was behind all it. The disgust that she felt towards her when she revealed her sinister plans, her hunger for money.

At last, everything was out. As if she was free. As if now, there were no troubles in her life. But what happened till now was only the taste of a sinister plan. The actual dish was yet to be served.

PS: If you have come this far, I am truly grateful to you. I just hope to be at a better place the next time and be okay. But I will stop this ramble now and I hope you have a great day ahead💕

Tags: @bbrandy2002 @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019@3riche @chetachisblog @starrystarrytrouble @arcticrivers @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx@angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406 @neotericthemis @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

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thelovelyghostwriter · 3 years

Audio

(via https://open.spotify.com/playlist/52aFxZiF6IhgLaj8Zzj3hU?si=2HFVzdSQT0WZ_fxe4gNniQ)

1. Million Dollar Man by Lana del Ray

You're screwed up and brilliant Look like a million dollar man So why is my heart broke?

We all know Kurapika is now the Nostrade Family Young Boss. He provides the money for Neon now by revamping their business model. He literally saved her family from financial crisis, he can provide her anything, she likes him a lot no matter how messed up he is - but why is she still “broke”.

2. National Anthem by Lana del Ray

Money is the reason we exist Everybody knows it, it's a fact (Kiss, kiss)

This song talks about the excess of materials, drugs, drinking, wealth and sex. A girl having a rich handsome man that gives her everything and he can’t keep her hands off of her. Sounds like Kurapika being in the mafia underworld and making tons of money; Neon bathing materialism as both gets drunk in love and sex? Heck yeah.

3. Young and Beautiful by Lana del Ray

Will you still love me when I'm no longer Young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing But my achin' soul?

This is the theme song for movie The Great Gatsby. @anotherworldash always paralleled the relationships between Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan with Kurapika and Neon. Gatsby desired Daisy because she represents the old money wealth that Gatsby longed for as a child. He became rich through illegal activities. Kurapika desired adventure and for their eyes to be appreciated (and not called a demon for it), which Neon appreciates their eyes as beautiful (even though now it’s in a twisted way. Daisy and Neon are very similar characters who bathes in materialism because they are despondent.

4. Dress by Taylor Swift

Only bought this dress so you could take it off.

Her wedding dress on their wedding night when they finally consummate their marriage. Duh.

5. Daddy Issues by Demi Lovato

Addicted to love with the wrong one Lucky for you, I got all these daddy issues

100% Neon and her daddy issues. She’s always with insane messed up men like Kurapika and also Chrollo because she never had a good upbringing to begin with.

6. Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding and Earned It by The Weekend

Are we going to put more saucy 50 Shades of Grey OSTs for this hot pairing? Heck yeah we are.

7. A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

I want you to touch me there Make me feel like I am breathing Feel like I am human.

She sought death on a queen-sized bed And he had said, "Darling, your looks can kill, So now you're dead."

This one’s interesting. So the title is based on the French phrase La petite mort to describe post-orgasm. The song describes two people having sex, finding solace in one another and “experiencing death”. Kurapika and Neon are two wounded souls - Kurapika’s tragic past and Neon’s lack of love from her father.

Also, Nostrade is from Nostradamus - a French astrologer, physician and reputed seer. I can totally see Neon speaking to Kurapika in French. OOF sexy.

T’as d’beaux yeux, tu sais? (You have beautiful eyes, you know?)

8. Requiem Arena, The Phantom Elegy and Kurapika’s Theme aka Hiiro no Hitom (Hunter x Hunter OST)

I know the first two are the Phantom Troupe theme songs, but this also reminds me of YorkNew City arc and Kurapika so yes it’s gonna be here.

9. Afterglow by Taylor Swift

I lived like an island, punished you with silence Went off like sirens, just crying Why'd I have to break what I love so much?

This gives me imagination if Kurapika and Neon ever gets into quarrels, and Neon feels guilty about her petty tantrums because she doesn’t want to lose him.

10. Run To You by Whitney Houston

OMFG. This song is 100% KuraNeon bodyguard-boss situation. So this song was actually from this movie called The Bodyguard (1992). It’s a story about a celebrity in danger, so she hired a bodyguard to protect her. Both don’t really like each other at first, but they eventually fall in love. Sounds like Kurapika and Neon? YES! This was actually the movie that made me think KuraNeon is possible.

The first verse describes Neon:

I know that when you look at me There's so much that you just don't see But if you would only take the time I know in my heart you'd find A girl who's scared sometimes Who isn't always strong Can't you see the hurt in me? I feel so all alone

Neon is actually a really lonely girl and locked up in the bubble. She may be smiling, but deep down she’s not okay.

The second verse describes Kurapika:

Each day, each day I play the role Of someone always in control But at night I come home and turn the key There's nobody there, no one cares for me What's the sense of trying hard to find your dreams Without someone to share it with Tell me what does it mean?

Kurapika always appear calm and stoic, but really, he has a sad past. His sole purpose now is to collect his brethren’s Eyes, and to take revenge. But does that make him happy? No, he’s lonely too. Don’t worry Pika you can collect the Scarlet Eyes with Neon.

11. Love Theme and Apollonia (The Godfather movie OST)

What’s a KuraNeon song without a mafia-themed love song?

12. California King Bed by Rihanna

So confused wanna ask you if you love me But I don't wanna seem so weak

I always have this headcanon (and also some other shippers) that their relationship will start off as something physical attraction first? Then it grows from there when both of them starts blurring the lines.

13. Pavane for A Dead Princess

Okay, this is classical music is just... we don’t really know if Neon is dead in the current arc (although I believe that she’s not dead and Chrollo’s speculation is only a false narrative).

But if Togashi does decide to kill her off, I think this song is so fitting for her. Given that she has Princess Syndrome.

Even if Neon’s alive, I don’t think she is living the best life. Personally, I think she’s a princess-sy girl with a dead soul. She collects dead body parts because she has no sympathy for the dead, partly because of her upbringing. Very interesting.

This classical music is actually my inspiration for Melody’s music box gift for Neon in Chapter 4 of my KuraNeon fanfic https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963668/chapters/70030809

14. All Too Well by Taylor Swift

Okay, this is the one song I always think of if I’m going to write about Kurapika leaving Neon for the Dark Continent.

Maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece Till you tore it all up

This is a very powerful breakup song, and one of Taylor Swift’s best! (I’m a Tay fan actually).

15. King of My Heart by Taylor Swift

Is the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we're spending Up on the roof with a school girl crush Drinking beer out of plastic cups Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff

We all know Kurapika is the King of Neon’s heart. <3

16. Lucky by Britney Spears

If there’s nothing missing in her life, then why do tears come at night?

Not really a KuraNeon song, but more for Neon. She seems like a rich girl, but she’s lonely and incomplete deep down. Her father is using her as a cash cow, much like how Britney Spear’s situation is right now.

17. For the Love of A Daughter by Demi Lovato

Don't you remember, I'm your baby girl? How could you throw me right out of your world? So young when the pain had begun Now forever afraid of being loved

This song... gets me so sad. Not really a KuraNeon song but I think it describes Neon’s situation with her father a bit, particularly this verse.

Okay, I will continue explaining the rest soon.

#kuraneon #kuraneo

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ariaadagio · 4 years

Text

TSSKSF (FEEI) update

Requisite disclaimers:

TSSKSF = The Super Secret Kitchen Sink Fic; it was my nickname for this thing when I didn’t have a title. The context being, my original concept for this fic was INSANE, there was so much shit going on. It was all that, and the kitchen sink. I’ve since pared down my original ambitions considerably—and subsequently came up with new ones—but I’m still looking at a 200k 250k word fic, at least. It’s plot dense.

FEEI = For Each Ecstatic Instant. The actual title! I finally thought of something that resonates with me! Yay!

No, this isn’t posted anywhere, yet. I don’t post WIPs if I can help it. This is just me chatting about my writing process and keeping you all in the loop :)

For those of you who are interested in following along, I’ve been creating a playlist for this story as I’ve written/speculated chapters (each chapter gets one song). You can listen to it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BCGSg4HLWvcPhadFyhywK?si=y9_WwNXRT5GWHhy-c3wcRQ. It’s moody and broody and I’m enjoying just listening to it when I’m out and about, unrelated to this story :)

A lot to report this week. I took Memorial Day week off to visit family. We were both very isolated (I hadn’t really interacted with another soul in about 3 weeks), so I figured it would be pretty safe to make the trip. The change in scenery did me a lot of good. I was able to bang out 3 chapters in 4 days, including the final Hell chapter, and 2 connecting tissue chapters.

The Hell chapter, I was really intimidated by and wasn’t sure how to write, but when I finally sat down it just ... poured out? I can’t believe it. But, guys. It’s ... really, really dark. Like, I’m surprised at myself by how dark it is. Nevertheless, I felt it was an important part of this crazy story to tell, and I’m really proud of it. I knew what my story was “about” from the get go, but the broader context didn’t actually click until here. I drew on some of the themes from ATWL, and took them to a deeper, body horror level of what if. I feel like I achieved an almost phantasmagorical tone, but in that scary kind of way that just sort of reaches off the page and grabs you in a stranglehold and you can’t look away. I know it will probably be triggering for some. I plan to post ample warnings when I get there, including a TLDR summary for people who flat out want to skip it, and I promise, this is the only chapter that really rings all these intense warning bells for me.

There’s heaps of fun in this story, too. Topside, Chloe & Lucifer are finally, FINALLY figuring out how to be on the same page, and to communicate their needs/desires to each other. How to be a team in more than just a professional capacity.

The other two chapters I wrote were ones I didn’t really want to write, not because they were hard, but because I wanted to get past them to be working on funner things, namely, a big realization on Chloe’s part, and the results of it. Big things are happening in Deckerstar’s orbit right now. I’m excited!

I was brainstorming last night, trying to figure out exactly how much more of this story I have left to write, and I was summarily shocked at how small my list of bullet points has gotten. Granted, this could be because I’m woefully under-conceiving exactly how hard this final thrust is going to be to tell—I had a similar issue closing out Castaway, which is why the “last chapter” turned into 3, and the Asmodeus showdown & subsequent Beauty-and-the-Beast-ish praying-in-the-rain became two chapters instead of one. But ... it really looks like I have about six chapters left to write, right now. That’s it. And I’ve already gotten the super hard one (the final Hell chapter) out of the way. I’m positively thrumming with excitement.

As things stand, now, though, I’ve got ... 1.5 of the major 3 problems resolved, so regardless how much writing is left to do, I’m 100% confident in saying I’m actually FINALLY near the end of this monster. YES!

I’m currently at 212,500 words. I falsely reported on Twitter that I’d hit roughly 216k, but belated realized I’d included two different drafts of one chapter in that total (they got buried in my Scrivener project because of how big this whole story is.).

May was very productive for me; my best month since NaNoWriMo:

Current chapter list:

So. 40 chapters written in full. 6-ish (???) more to write. No more previews, since I’m at the point where everything is super spoiler-y.

#lucifer on netflix #lucifer fanfiction #deckerstar #aria writes #tssksf

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Note

3, 6, 20 for the writing meta asks!

Why hello there! I won’t lie, I was, of course, extremely happy to see another ask in my ask box! Perfect thing to wake up to, and get the brain juices flowing! So, let’s do some answering! >:D

****

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

There’s one particular scene that’s actually been in my head for days, but of course, when I try to actually write it, my brain just fizzles out into the unknown. However, the scene I want to write and will have to write is Fane and Solas ‘reuniting’. More or less, when Solas finally realizes what and who Fane is and vice versa. It involves a lot of build up from previous chapters and scenes, and since those aren’t written yet I’m a little stuck on how to get it off the ground. I can share a few little concepts though that I did manage to write up!

“May I?”, Solas asked quietly and softly, carefully lifting a hand to hover near the aggravated gash. He would not touch it unless Fane explicitly stated that it was amenable. He would do no more harm than he had already.

There was a long pause, the two of them sitting practical inches from each other until Solas heard a sound between a growl and huff exit past sealed lips. That had a small smile working its way onto his face. How painfully nostalgic that sound was to him, like rolling thunder during a downpour..

“Hmph.”, Fane huffed out again before jerking his head lightly to indicate that it was fine, but he could see how a serpentine jaw locked up instinctively.

Solas frowned slightly at that before shifting a bit closer, not ignoring how the other tensed up even more as he let his palm rest against the seeping wound.

To have such adverse reactions.. How much have you had to suffer due to my rashness? A heavy, crushing feeling bore down on Solas’s heart--it was like a spiked cage was closing in around it, threatening to puncture and leave him to bleed out. He did not know all of what happened surrounding the Herald’s early life, but he had witnessed the man’s sensitivity to magic, watched as a normally proud and dominating form crumbled into no more than weak shivers and suffocating retching. He had also, during a moment of childish weakness, caught glimpses of magically burnt, jagged patchwork scars along an uncommonly naked arm--the skin, for once, having been freed to breathe and scream. Solas had not been close enough to see more, at the time, but the severity, the deepness of those torn segments he had seen, and the fact that Fane’s body was covered neck to waist in leather wraps told him then that strong arms were not the only place such...familiar, but gruesome scars existed.

The scars upon his arms, and most likely his entire body… They are indicative of what his kin had endured, but how…? Solas felt his frown deepen further upon that thought before refocusing on the wound marring a porcelain visage, which was as hard as stone as it peered into his own. He would have to think on those aspects later. He would get no answers while Fane refused to speak to him, and it would do neither of them favors to speculate.

Solas gingerly swiped a thumb along the crimson gash on Fane’s cheek, involuntarily hushing the man softly when a light hiss escaped tight lips. The wound would scar, no matter how much healing Fane would allow. It was deep, nearly piercing through the thin skin of a cheek, and Solas had done that. In self defense, yes, but he had still caused damage.

He had caused harm due to an inability to stay. away.

He must suffer another scar because I was blind. He cannot not wrap this one. He cannot hide it from sight to make its deepness feel more shallow. I have marked him, in two ways, and neither are kind.. The weighty thought flitted through his mind before Solas blinked as he felt and watched Fane lightly lean into his touch, gold glittering in emerald despite the dimness of the cave as those eyes narrowed a bit from both stinging pain of a wet wound and, dare he say, contentment from a century absent gesture.

That had Solas’s smile turning sad as he absently stroked under a brilliant golden emerald eye, unphased by the two toned hue that encompassed a blackened pupil as it met his gaze unflinchingly. How had he not seen it before? The truth was always staring at him--figuratively and physically. Why had he averted his own gaze? To hide? To run? Or was it to protect? He knew not. However, he did know, from the way a warm, but crushing feeling wrapped around his entire soul was a truth that could never be denied for fear of justifiable rage--for fear of punishment for mistakes so grave as to render a vow completely moot.

“...I missed you.”, Solas whispered against his better judgement and earlier thoughts, watching as Fane’s pupil widened a bit before it trembled slightly with emotion, the emerald within the iris deepening to drown out brilliant gold. He had to close his eyes at that, a feeling of weightlessness and oncoming longing threatening to have him, too, drowning within emerald. “What am I saying? I have no right to have missed you, but I can’t.. No. I do not have the right..”, he murmured in the next moment before lightly shaking his head, absently cupping Fane’s warm cheek more fully.

There was no use dwelling upon his lack of foresight, for it was his own blindness that had shaded him from the truth--his own pride and fear. He had not wanted to believe there was hope, and he did not deserve to have such lofty ideas after what he had done. He deserved to wander about in darkness, happiers visions obscured while only ghostly apparitions haunted him beyond the Veil, clambering, clawing for a way out of the prison he had locked them in. This was nothing but a hopeful dream--one of many that constantly plagued him with falsities and--

“I missed you, too..”, a hoarse, exhausted, but distinct voice sounded, completely cutting off the wave of his thoughts to shove Solas’s mind back into reality before it came once again, quietly. “I’m sorry..”

Solas’s eyes shot open upon those words, ignoring the way he could feel the hand that rested upon Fane’s cheek trembling slightly to gaze into deep, deep emerald as it shook just as much with concealed emotion. No--no, this could not be real. He did not deserve for this to be real!

“Sorry? For what? I am the one that should be sorry..”, Solas stated with a deep frown, gaze flitting down to the hand that bore the Anchor--his magic. “I have shackled you without even rattling the chains before you myself. It is a sound you should never have known..”

Fane let out a tired sigh, shaking his head slowly with a tiny grimace. “You have never held them, Solas.”, he said before sighing again. “The chains were always there, and you weren’t the one to make me aware of their sound.”

“But the orb--the mark, it is..”

“Yours, I know, but it’s not the same. I remember the difference. Trust me.”, Fane said before leaning into his hand more. “I remember...everything. Well, mostly everything. Some parts are still fuzzy, but I know you, I know who or...what I am, I know the bond we held, and I know how I died..”

Solas couldn’t help but flinch at that last statement, almost retracting his hand until Fane reached up weakly to keep it in place. “Herald, I--”

The corner of Fane’s mouth twisted into a tired sneer. “Don’t recede into formality. I hate when you do that.”, he said before letting his hand fall back to the ground with a light thump. “Responding as if I’m a stranger to you is pointless.”

“How would you have me respond after all that has happened? Should I feel jubilant from the pain I have inflicted upon the world, upon my people--upon you? Should I ignore that all that has transpired and will transpire is my doing--my mistake?”, Solas questioned, a niggling of irritability born of mental exhaustion working its way into his voice. He was exceedingly growing weary due to not resting for more than several hours at a time, the two of them having to swap routinely for watch.

He watched Fane’s chest rise and fall heavily with another sigh before glittering eyes shut with equal weariness. Solas frowned at that. What had gotten into him? He was tired, yes, but so was Fane, and he had not just had his identity sundered like a torn blanket, only to be stitched back together again with completely different patchwork. He had also not just suffered having his mind nearly broken from magic so potent and so sickeningly familiar as to cause an age old frenzy to take hold without an ounce of hesitation. This whole ordeal was simply exhausting and unbelievable, even as proof practically...leaned against him?

Solas blinked, thoughts once again veering off a depressive trail as he felt a heavy, but warm weight resting itself on his shoulder. He turned his head a bit to see that Fane’s head had lulled forward to find a place to rest--eyes shut and snowy brows furrowed as if in some kind of discomfort.

“Fane..?”, he called out softly, tentatively reaching up to card a few fingers through snowy hair--the strands coated in a grey hue due to residual ash and dirt.

Emerald made a reappearance as Fane cracked his eyes open, glancing up at him drearily before starting to shift as if to move away. “Sorry.. I was--”

Solas quickly, perhaps too quickly, shook his head, weaving his fingers into dirty hair to gently guide the other to stay put. He should not do this, but...he couldn’t help it. Against his better judgement, Solas let his own head come to carefully rest upon the side of Fane’s before he shut his eyes--an instant wave of contentment filling in the void of his soul.

“Rest. We will speak more of this at a better time.”, he commanded quietly, smiling a bit as he felt the other relax his tensed up form. “I can tell you are exhausted still.”

“So are you..”, Fane muttered, his voice rumbling pleasantly which had Solas letting out a quiet hum. How he had missed that sound, even when it had had no voice to go along with it..

“I will wake you in a few hours. I can manage until then.”, he said softly before absently stroking through silky strands of white. He couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the texture. How was it, that despite the grime and despairing ash, there was still a softened quality to the dragon’s hair? Perhaps that said something about Fane himself..

“Mm..”, a content hum reached Solas’s ears, the small smile upon his face growing by a fraction before he felt warmth and strength wrap around the rest of his body in the form of two tired arms. He tensed a bit before he realized what was happening; Fane was hugging him--holding him as if Solas would suddenly disappear..

He shifted his head a bit to gaze down at where Fane was resting against him, his heart growing tight upon a matching frown etched into a pale face. Oh, my dragon. I only cause you harm, so why do you continue to tempt more? And why can I not dissuade it? His mind questioned before his own arms came up to wrap around Fane’s shoulders, tangling a hand into snowy, short locks.

He should not do this. He should not give false hope and promises to someone who deserved better, but it was like a tidal wave of longing, of yearning, and of grief had suddenly come crashing into him--slamming him against the rocks, wet and spent from fighting the tide. He wanted to drown in a sea of emerald and gold…

“Ma’isenatha..”, Solas whispered out the Elvhen without a shred of hesitation, even as his mind practically screamed for him not to. “Ma’isenatha..”, he said once more as he buried his face into Fane’s neck, the man’s own arms tightening around him to pull closer.

Obviously, there will have to be one hundred percent more context and soul searching, but I’m mainly just playing around with ideas of how both Solas and Fane will handle the situation. Like I’ve said before, I don’t see them avoiding each other, even with Solas constantly stating he’ll only cause Fane harm. Fane isn’t made of glass and Solas knows that, and he also knows that Fane has a place upon this particular chess board, but not as a pawn, but more along the lines of a rook or a knight. Fane’s involvement is essential to Solas, even if he’s not happy about it since it could end the same way it did before. It also helps that Fane is stubborn and as his abilities reawaken, he can back Solas into a corner to make the man face what he’s fearful of. That was Fane’s role as a dragon, after all. To guide emotion and unclog the dams of them so they could flow freely in a realm where emotion and imagination were the world’s very foundation. But again, this is just a concept of what could potentially happen after Haven, so it may change later on when I finally get there!

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

In terms of my OCs, it’s obviously Fane since I can still find ways to evolve his character and add on to what I already have established. In terms of those not of my own creation, I would say Solas. He’s easy for me to write, to formulate thoughts about. I think it all boils down to the fact that, in a certain way, he and Fane are parallels. There’s evidence in canon, of course, to support the Inquisitor is a mirror for Solas, but I took that a bit further. I also wanted to explore the emotions, that I believe, Solas would showcase with someone he not only knew before the Veil was erected, but loved in a forbidden way. I will never tire of making Solas melt over Fane and vice versa. There’s not enough softness in the world, so I seek to rectify that! >:3

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I’m a slut for symbolism. Yes, I said it, I’m a slut for it. The whole reason I have focused so heavily on eyes in my fics is because eyes are the gate way to the soul. Fane can see into that window with his abilities and even without them depending on how open a person is, and it allows him to properly communicate without offending. It’s more or less a way of saying, ‘If you just look at someone, truly look at them, then you don’t need words to understand them. You can see the pain, the happiness, the sorrow, the whispered love without ever uttering a single word.’ That’s the whole basis of Solas and Fane’s relationship, and how it even formed in the first place. I mean, how else do you think a Elvhen god and a dragon became friends, and then lovers? It took a lot, I’m not gonna lie, but Fane is Solas’s heart and Solas is Fane’s sky. A heart and sky don’t need words; they only need someone to listen to the beat or gaze upwards to the clouds. Fane and Solas from the start, as two elves, synchronize with each other as if their souls are greeting each other without their physical forms knowing. You might say, ‘Well, wouldn’t Solas clue in after watching Fane? Or wouldn’t he know from his eyes?”

Yes and no. The eyes throw Solas off, but he doesn’t focus on them because the memory of them belonging to another is too painful. This is another way of me saying, ‘If you don’t face the truth, it will remain hidden to you, but the pain it harbors in its very shadows will not. It will stalk you, it will taunt you, and it will tear you apart from the inside until you look.’ Solas denies his heart, even as it beats before him, from a fear of foolish hopes being mere dreams, and a grief that is so aged from hands died with draconic blood and magical chains. Fane turns his potent gaze from the sky, even as blue eternity stretches before him with love and understanding, for fear of turning it grey as he is and trying to convince himself that he doesn’t care even though he cares so much. It’s tragic in its own way, but I visualize a happy ending or at least bittersweet one.

There’s also a very heavy focus on color, primarily grey. This is physical in some way to Fane, things look muted to him or take on a greyish hue, but overall, its how he views the world at present. It’s grey, not black and white. Same things happen for different reasons and sometimes neither of them are good and neither of them are bad. Fane views the world in grey because that’s how he feels on a daily basis. He’s grey because he doesn’t know who he is or what race he should answer to. His existence is not black and white and sometimes, he wishes it were because it would be easier to accept. Those feelings lessen over time as Fane reconciles with the fact that he’s a dual creature with experiences spanning two lifetimes and two races, but the world’s greyness doesn’t lessen for him because between all the political intrigue, war, corruption, and ignorance, there’s red, crimson. As much as grey can make Fane feel hollow and out of place, red is another ball game--a terrifying one that houses inevitability and every time a noble topples peasant and opponent alike for personal gain, every time a plain of nature is destroyed for expansion, every time magic is used as a dominating influence rather than a ritualistic one, every. time. a dragon is erased permanently from a world that sorely needs them, that angry hue paints Fane’s vision and hands where there was otherwise indifference. And once again, it is inevitable, those happenings simply spur it to climb faster and faster. What is it, you ask? Well, I think we all have an idea.

****

Thank you for the ask and apologies for it being so loooong! You chose the question for me to ramble and I ramble ramble ramble! >:3

#ask #asks #writing asks #dragon age #solas #oc: fane lavellan #solavellan #my writing #there is great potential for tragedy for fane #greeeeat potential due to my headcanons #but we'll find a way to make it right #ehehe~

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thewinterwaifu · 4 years

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Hiya Maria! Thanks for responding to my last message. Can you give us your headcanons of Gwyndolin, specifically DarkSouls 1 but I'd also like your take of the character as they appear in later games as well (if it isn't too much of a bother). Ik you're into the souls series and everyone seems to have their own particularly unique take on this character, from gender to personality, and I'd really like to know yours :)

Hello!THIS TURNED OUT TO BE WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED I'M SORRY I REALLY LOVE GWYNDOLIN-

Gender: We all know dark souls doesn't hand us much lore and we have to make our own theories but we know this much:Gwyndolin was born a male but under the blessing of the moon, which is considered girly, so Gwyn forced him to be raised as a woman and wear a dress. I know some people headcanon Gwyndolin as MTF transgender but I personally don't. They never said Gwyndolin identified as a woman, more like was forced to dress as one. In my opinion, he is a cisgender man but continues to dress as a woman because he feels like he owes it to his father and it's his 'punishment' he ha to go through for 'failing' him. So, what's with the boobs on the character model. I'd say it's either a stuffed bra or an illusion spell (I mean, he can create a whole illusion of his sister, who says he can't change his appearance a bit?) Personality: Because of how he dissappointed his father, he is very scared of failure. Thus, he is a complete perfectionist. When Gwynevere left, this feeling only grew even more. Despite of how much he may doubt himself, he will never show it, wanting to keep up this facade of a god who isn't restrained by human feelings, especially those of self doubt or anxiety, thinking that if he shows 'weakness' all of the knights won't see him as a fit leader and merely a shadow of Gwyn who will never be as great as him. Behind the mask of confidence and leadership, he is an introvert and fairly quite shy. If one of his knights tried talking to him about something that wasn't about orders and asking about him or whatever, they'd see that there may be a long pause between his sentences, thinking of what to say. Despite how he fools everyone by making them think Gwynevere is still there and how he tries his hardest to convince the chosen undead to link the fire, despite the consequences this has on the natural order of things, I don't believe Gwyndolin is a bad person. He really does believe in what he stands up for and than an eternal age of fire is the 'correct' thing to do. He is more than capable of compassion, empathy and love. His eye color: I like to think his eyes are golden yellow!I may be biased because most of the fanart shows him this way but I think it really suits him! Not like anyone will see them anyway, because he refuses to be seen by anyone without it. Gwyn, Gwynevere and Yoshka were the only exceptions, since they were his family. Snake bodyparts: The good old question. Where do the human (god,but you get what I mean) parts end and the snakes begin? His legs aren't entirely made of snakes, he has human (or well,god) upper thighs and from there on, the snakes begin For a while I used to wonder if the snakes were like, an extension of Gwyndolin himself and he can fully control them like a bodypart or they actually have mind and personalities of their own. After a bit, I decided to settle on a bit of a middle ground. They do have mind of their own but Gwyndolin can 'mind control' them and bend their will to do his bidding if he so desires. For his whole life, had viewed them as tools more than anything, but when he was left alone in Anor Londo, he couldn't help but feel lonely and start to view them as friends. By nature, the snakes have a sort of bond with him and are willing to serve him Friendship: Gwyndolin really did love his sister Gwynevere a lot, and when she left Anor Londo, he was completely devastated and felt rather empty. Something was missing. Even if he did create an illusion of her to not notify anyone of her dissapearence with a spell, he knew it wasn't real, and it hurt to even look at her. After this, he didn't think he could ever feel affection ever again aside from his snakes and Yorshka. He put up walls in his heart, not wanting to be hurt again. But say...if a blade of the dark moon cared about him a lot and kept talking to him, his heart would melt and he would really start to see them as a friend rather than just a servant. He would be insanely loyal, grateful to have someone who accepts him the way he is. The guy has abandonment issues though, and would be kind of paranoid about them leaving. And if they died?Oh, he would not be able to take the guilt, knowing they died doing their duty as a blade of the darkmoon for him. Even so, he still wouldn't let them see him without his crown. Love: If it's hard for him to consider somebody a friend, just imagine how he must be when he comes to love. Just like with everything else, he is afraid of failure and being abandoned. He'd need to have a very strong friendship bond with anyone before he even starts to see them as something more. He isn't a 'love at first sight' kind of guy at all. It's a slow thing for him. He'll be friends with somebody with years and slowly realize that he is starting to see them in a different light recently...Surprisingly, he doesn't mind being the one to confess and will gather the courage to do so. He isn't a very cuddly partner though, especially at first, as he isn't used to touch and is scared the snakes gently wrapping around his partner's arms or legs while they cuddle will scare them off. He really can't help that. He constantly reminds them how much he loves them and how happy they make him, wanting them to know that despite him not being very touchy. "It's almost as if thou art my destiny...I shall love thee for as long as thou will have me..." Remember how he won't show his eyes even to friends?He may actually do so with his s/o after they have been dating for a while, to prove he really does trust them Also, he gets flustered extremely easily. Interests: He doesn't have that much free time but when he does have it, Gwyndolin likes to read and write poetry. A bit of an obvious one here but he also likes archery and practices not just to improve his skills but for fun as well. Along with spellcasting, it's one of the few things he likes about himself and can be proud of. After Dark souls 1 and before Dark souls 3: Once again, much is left to speculation so we have to go off item descriptions and npcs conversations to try and get stuff together We know Pontiff Sullyvahn poisoned Gwyndolin so he was weak and Aldritch could eat him, allowing Sullyvahn to take over the valley. But what was Gwyndolin doing before that?In my opinion, pretty much the same as in the first game, trying his best to convince people to choose the link the fire. Aside from that, I like he sent his most trusted knights to look for Gwynevere. Even after centuries, he just couldn't let go of his sister. Meanwhile, he did his very best to keep Yorshka happy and be a good brother to her. He didn't want to make the same mistake and watch her, a loved one, leave. Back to his death, I believe his last thoughts were, just like always, for his family. Gwyn would be so disappointed right now wouldn't he?That broke his heart. But...maybe, just maybe he would have changed his mind by now. Gwynevere...was she still even alive?And Yorshka...oh poor Yorshka. He could only hope she would be spared

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