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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days

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Also, I would like to add that Malleus’s blatant disregard for the autonomy of others and fits of rage is DELIBERATE on his end. Being one of the top five mages in the entire world, I am sure that he KNOWS there is a large disparity between his power/social and the rest of the peers/subordinates etc. His sheer and utter confidence in his abilities to get what he wants and general disregard for others isn’t only an indicator of his awareness about this disparity, but is also a reflection of the abuses of his power AND social status as a whole.

In light of his age, imagine the amount of times he has repeated these mistakes despite others advice and criticisms against his choices. Only Ace has been able to overcome others general reverence and fear towards Malleus when it came to calling him out. He is not an innocent person who is ignorant about the ways of humanity verses faes, and is certainly not the innocent character the fandom (especially those who are infatuated by him) think he is.

[Referencing this post!]

***Standard disclaimer: In sharing my thoughts, I do not mean to disparage Malleus fans. Furthermore, me disliking him should not detract from your own enjoyment of the character. If you do not feel comfortable reading about this topic (ie critique of Malleus’s character), then I encourage you to scroll on and to not engage with this post.***

My thoughts below the cut!

I do feel that, to some degree, the disregard for others and inappropriate fits of rage come from blatant ignorance (since Malleus did have a very isolated and sheltered upbringing). However, it's also hard for me to believe that in his 178 years of living that he was NOT told countless times by those around him (mostly Lilia and his grandmother, Maleficia) to wield his power and social status more tactfully than how he has. Did he take none of those lessons to heart??? What about the 2-3 years he spent living among the non-fae at NRC? Nothing from then too?? Regarding self-awareness of his strength and social status, Malleus has made it clear on more than one occasion that he stands above others. Right from his first appearance in the main story (in book 2), it's implied he's well aware of his position--so much so that he deliberately hides his identity from Yuu. He also cannot propose to Eliza in Ghost Marriage because he is the crown prince of a nation. Time and time again, Malleus's status is mentioned and it plays into his importance as the sole heir to Briar Valley. He must also know he is powerful, given that he is one of the top 5 strongest mages in the world and can perform incredible feats (like reassembling a stage and walking through Vil's poisonous miasma in book 5) like they're nothing. His grandmother and Lilia tell him the Draconias are powerful and shouldn’t use their magic to harm, but to help those they rule over. Yet he seems to have surprisingly few qualms when turning these powers against people who are only at a fraction of his power (Rook, his dorm mates, everyone in the Scalding Sands trip group, Ortho, etc.) or have no magic at all (remember when he attacked those civilians in Terror is Trending and the other Diasomnia students had to restrain him?). Malleus may be emotional in these moments, but the fact remains that he's making the deliberate, intentional choice to wield his magic in this way. He has the ability to hold himself back (as we see him refrain from fighting Rook in Malleus's PE Uniform vignette, only because he knows Rook is baiting him), but the vast majority of the time he fails to do this. For someone who is acutely aware of his power, you'd think he would... I don't know, keep a better leash on it? And what about his identity? So Malleus is concerned about Sebek insulting Leona (the prince of another country) but he ISN'T concerned about how his own fits of anger poorly reflect on himself, who is the CROWN PRINCE of a country??? Please make that make sense... Why is Malleus so selective 💀

I'm actually quite shocked at how little Malleus's pride and arrogance is pointed out; it's usually Leona who gets those labels even though Malleus is also just as arrogant, prideful, and confident in his own powers. Most of the time, I feel like I see Malleus being called "innocent". Maybe his negative traits on display get overlooked because TWST tries so hard to present Malleus to us as someone we are supposed to like (especially with how often they use his overpoweredness or loneliness is used as a punchline for jokes). Our interactions with Malleus are also so few and so short, particularly early in the main story, that fan project their own ideas about what he's like onto him and that forms a certain “image” of him that may not be the same as how he actually is. Him being lonely makes it easy for fans to perceive him as desperate for company and even easier for fans insert themselves as his “special” friend or S/O to fill the void.

It's... quite ironic, really? Malleus says in Riddle's Suitor Suit vignettes that he is familiar with the concept of "noblesse oblige", which is the implied duty of the privileged and nobility to act gracefully towards those less privileged. Yet... he is sometimes overstepping "fae playfulness" or "teenage childishness/immaturity" and continuously creating situations which put people around him in danger (all of Endless Halloween Night, not holding back his attacks against the Magicam Monsters, all the times he let his temper get out of control, book 7 OB, etc.) When defending the extremes he took in book 7 by citing his status and his UM, Malleus has this to say, which is very telling of his lucidity: "Monitoring? Meddling? Heh, how silly. It's a king's duty to govern, is it not? I'm watching over you. To ensure no nightmares befall you in the fairy tales you now reside in... To ensure you have happy dreams that last forever!" It's implied that Malleus's grandma has told him since childhood that their line has powerful magic to protect their people's smiles--and here he is, overextending those words to people that aren't even his subjects, and twisting the meaning to justify his own brutal rule.

What I noticed is... Malleus is often so oriented on seeing the situation from his POV that he fails to consider those from any entity aside from himself. In Endless Halloween Night, he feels sorry for the ghosts who showed up late and were left out of the festivities because he can relate to them, so therefore he wants to make sure they are included. In book 7, Malleus fears his loved ones leaving and projects this fear onto everyone else so he feels right in being the one coming in to be their "hero" and grant them happy endings they never asked for. In his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, Malleus frames the circumstances as, "I wouldn't be mad if you did the same thing to me" instead of listening to his peers' complaints. He centers problems around himself (which admittedly is very frustrating to me), and this is how Malleus tries to understand and navigate the world. This gives me the impression that he has a very particular way of thinking and it's perhaps difficult for him to understand others, even with extensive pointers.

I truly believe Malleus is ignorant about humans and fae. That much matches up with what we know of his history. What I do NOT get is why he continues to remain ignorant when 1) he has spent a few years exposed to non-fae and their ways; even if this pales in comparison to the 175ish other years of his life, he should have some new basis for appropriate social interactions with other races, and 2) most of the major adult figures in his life are exposing to him he should consider others' perspectives and try to learn more about that which he is unfamiliar with. Malleus has so many opportunities to expand his horizons and get to know new people, but he seems to sit around and keep waiting for others take the initiative for him. But he could initiate too, so why doesn't he???? (He has shown he is capable of it, as he approaches Deuce to fix his virtual pet and chatting with Idia about the same pet in the main story; if not by himself, then Lilia can easily assist or invite him into activities such as the Silk City trip.) Even if Malleus fails to socialize in a way that's considered appropriate, at least that's something he can learn from and correct for next time... But why doesn’t he????????? If he did, it would sure help out with his inability to empathize with his peers and could even curb his temper (which would be seen as socially inappropriate). So why exactly does he seem to know so little and make so little effort to try and rectify this???? Why does he keep postulating that his word is above everyone else’s and then get upset when people don’t like him for this very alienating attitude? Aaaaah, it's a sad cycle to witness him devolve into again and again... 😭

P. S. Bless Ace for being the one character who still held it against Malleus for the fucked up “prank” he pulled in Endless Halloween Night (and then convincing everyone the misunderstanding was their faults for “attacking the ghosts first”).

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overtail · 3 days

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Anything - Zuko x Reader

🔥🥀

IMPORTANT: I wanna apologize for all of the requests I haven't been able to complete due to writers block. Im literally only writing this to get motivated, I'm so sorry gang

...

.☘︎ ݁˖ anything - adrienne lenker (a song based one-shot)

playlist I listened to while writing this ~

Summary: The tranquil summer afternoon, a brief but blissful time, when he journeyed up the hill to witness the sight of her. Zuko harboured a secret yearning for those precious moments from the past, when her mere presence warmed his cold heart.

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff, a tad wee bit of angst

Info: Takes place before the agni kai and after the defeat of Ozai, a female intended reader, no use of (y/n), and I skipped some lyrics cause it didnt apply..........

...

'Staring down the barrel of the hot sun

Shining with the sheen of a shotgun

Carol has a little if we need some

Joyous rays, we wanna come'

The young prince felt the sweat of the summer trickle down his loosely robed back. He wiped his forehead with his bare, pale arm, beads of salty sweat sinking into the thin brows sat upon his face.

It was mid afternoon, presumably around 12:34. Zuko usually abandoned his duties of summer schoolwork around this time every Thursday, taking his long awaited treck up the hill not too far from the palace.

As mid-summer crept up, Zuko decided to wear less moisture-inducing clothing. His uncle Iroh offered him some old shorts of Lu Ten's, though they were a tad bit too small for the prince's frame. Zuko was big for his age - 10 - around 4'10 and skinny limbs. He remembered when his mother used to call him her 'little foal'. At the time, he hated the nickname. It made him feel clumsy, ridiculous, and insecure about his skinny limbs. But now as he looked back, he cherished every little detail, every memory, every signal of his mother.

Zuko liked the sounds of wood pigeons. Many of them occupied this grassy region of the fire nation. It held a feeling of calm nostalgia, like he was just a little boy once again, playing around in the gardens with his mama, teasing Azula and her friends.

As he neared the top of the hill, he heard the soft 'coo-coo' of a wood pigeon. He glanced up at a nearby tree, trying to see if he could spot the small brown winged creature. Before he could correctly inspect the tree, he was knocked to the ground.

Zuko glanced up, smiling as her toothy grin filled his sight. Her hair messily fell over both of them, all frizzy and crazy.

She yelled his name in glee, holding Zuko tight in her small arms. Zuko smiled back, patting her backside with a gentle hand.

'Hanging your jeans with a clothes pin

Skin still wet, still on my skin

Mango in your mouth, juice dripping

Shoulder of your shirtsleeve slipping'

The two sat on a ruffled blanket, watching as the breeze ruffled up the hair-like leaves of the willow trees in the distance. Her bare toes messily poked the dirt, tracing small figures and images in the grass in front of him.

Zuko watched as she chewed on the flesh of a mango, humming a soft fire-nation tune as she watched the hustle and bustle of nature below. A few droplets of the juice fell onto her lap, seeping into the dark red fabric of her skirt. She didn't seem to mind. Her stature and way of livelihood was much different compared to the strict life of a fire nation prince. It was a calming pace compared to his life back home - and maybe that was why he loved hanging out with her.

Her hair was loosely tied in two ponytails, which was obviously put up by her own hands. One was bigger than the other, mostly because half of the right ponytail was falling out and the hair was resting on her shoulder. Her haircut was choppy, and Zuko could see the gap between her two front teeth as she sucked on the fruit.

Everything about her seems so human, so carefree. Every single waking moment Zuko spent with her made him feel like a normal child.

The two spoke about ridiculous things, like how she saw a woman and her husband fighting in the middle of the nation's plaza. She told him about what the wife was wearing, how she pointed at her husband, how her husband was balding in some areas.

Her little stories helped Zuko get a glimpse of the outside world.

'Grocery store list, now you get this

Brunch, had calls and messages

I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy

I just wanna be a part of your family'

Her eyes widened as a glimpse of remembrance filled her big, child-like eyes. She reached up, grabbing the mango out of her mouth and placing it on the blanket beneath her. Zuko chewed on his lip as the juices of the fruit rolled down the side of it.

She reached into her back pocket, shifting slightly so she could fully reach into it. As she pulled it out, it was a haphazardly folded piece of paper. Some of the corners were crumpled and ripped off, and Zuko saw crayon peeking out of one of the sides that were folded inwards.

Zuko asked what the paper was for, but only got a chest full of paper. She giggled, smiling as she awaited for Zuko to look at the note.

He unfolded the paper, looking at what was hidden inside. A small doodle of a red stickman with a crown and a smaller one of a girl (which was obvious from the triangle dress) next to him. In messy handwriting, there was text that said 'Yu as firlord' pointing to the man.

Zuko looked up with a smile, his cheeks chubby and full. He felt overjoyed seeing this, especially since he lost sense of his worth. Zuko assumed the girl was her, and she also had a crown on.

'And I don't wanna talk about anything

I don't wanna talk about anything

I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again

Wanna witness your eyes looking'

The moonlight crept over the lip of the hill, illuminating the dew-covered grass blades around her and Zuko. Her head rested on his lap, and Zuko's hand supported his weight while he leaned on his arm.

Zuko had mentioned that he would be going to one of his father's war meetings tomorrow for the first time. He was overjoyed, all the while she wasn't very strong on the idea. She was on the left side of the war. Even though she was Fire Nation, she wasn't proud of her nation's actions.

The two spoke about the upcoming future, what Zuko's 14th birthday would be like. It was over 8 months away, but being a kid meant that day was everything. Everything.

His fingers tangled in the messy length of her hair. Her mother refused to let her cut it ever since she messed it up. 3 years later, it almost reached her back.

Zuko didn't know what was between them. 13 was a weird age, especially when your best friend is a pretty girl. She wasn't 'perfect pretty'. She was reckless, unladylike, clumsy and didn't care what she looked like, but maybe that's why Zuko admired her so much.

The two had shared a kiss. Just one. It was a singular peck on the lips, and it was only because the two wanted to know what it felt like. The boys at school didn't like her, and she was the only girl Zuko knew besides Azula.

Zuko wasn't aware what would awaken between them. It was gradual, but he started to become nervous around her. Simple things they always did like hugs, cuddling, and her laying on his lap like this soon felt like there was a secret incentive under every little detail and action. Zuko felt as if he was suffocating under his own mushed up emotions.

Though, behind all of the nervous glances and red tinted cheeks, Zuko never wanted to be away from her. Despite the new feeling, everything else felt the same. Everything felt like they were little again. Like they were still human.

'I don't wanna talk about anyone

I don't wanna talk about anyone

I wanna sleep in your car while you're driving

Lay on your lap whеn I'm crying'

Zuko watched the crowd on the beaches of the fire nation get farther and farther away as the boat slowly drifted from shore. The wind whipped his pale skin, red marks from the lack of warm temperature forming on his cheeks. Half of his sight was blocked by the bandage on his eye, making Zuko feel blind and vulnerable.

He felt as if he was ripped apart, all of the good things in his life dripped out of his wounds and seeping into the floor beneath. He couldn't cry. He couldn't feel. The world around him felt numb.

In the midst of his sulking, he hadn't even thought about her.

Zuko heard a screaming from the deck, bringing him back to reality. He glanced down to the land he just left, his eyes drifting over to the commotion below. Two guards struggled to hold back a screaming girl, her body tempted to jump into the cold ocean and swim over to Zuko. He realized who it was when she screamed for the guards to let her come with.

Her hair had come undone, falling in front of her tear-filled eyes. Her face was red from all the effort she put into trying to escape from the grasp of the soldiers. Snot ran down her nose as she sobbed, choking on the sound of her own tears.

Zuko wanted to tell the captain to stop, to turn around and bring her with, but he knew it was for the best. There were to be no distractions. His mind had to be set on capturing the Avatar, and restoring his honor.

Whenever he was with her, he felt alive. He felt human. Zuko always thought that feeling was good, not having to be a perfect robot constantly. Now as he watched the girl he once admired scream and cry just to see him one last time, he finally wished neither him or her felt human.

'Circle of pine and riddle

Circlе of moss and fire smoke

Fan on the ceiling like a wheel spoke

Push the clutch in and I pull the choke'

Three years, three long years thrown over the cliff and into the gaping hole of Zuko's tragedy.

Finally, finally, he found the Avatar. He found his meaning, he found the key to the lock that was his father's trust, his honor. Even with the determination of a thousand guards, he let the opportunity slip from his thin fingertips.

Zuko trashed his bedroom, throwing books to the ground and Knocking dressers over. A low growl echoed from his throat, followed by the choking of sobs. He didn't know how to feel, so these sudden emotions were so frightening.

The urge to stake his skin off, to scream and cry like a child, was all too much for him.

Zuko reached into his desk, grabbing loose papers and notebooks as he threw them to the floor. He cursed under his breath, biting at him bottom lip.

As he trashed every item in his desk drawer, he crumpled up another paper, throwing it onto the floor behind him. Though, before he did, he saw a glimpse of what was on the paper.

Zuko stopped his tantrum, turning to look at the paper. He saw red crayon.

#avatar the last airbender #fandom #fanfic #fluff #zuko #zuko x reader

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fumifooms · 2 days

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Here to share Hien thoughts today.

One thing that defines her is that she’s very capable. She’s the highest ranking in the squad after Maizuru so her confidence is in part because she does have that senior coworker &/ leader authority to her, confidence which is very much earned.

If I had to dig deeper at her beyond just what we’re shown I’d go with the angle that… She was born into the Nakamoto household and being a ninja servant, she grew up there, she doesn’t know anything else beyond the job, and it’s a job she does well, traines to get there. She’s here to do her work and she’s content with her life being how it is, not that she knows anything else. I don’t think she’d be self-aware about it all? Both because this really is pretty normal for Wa and it’s her normal, and because, while she doesn’t fold her spine or care for things like cosmetics, she does mold her attitude to be both capable and respectable. Her home, the Nakamoto household, is simultaneously a professional setting, it’s a 24/7 thing.

She’s critical of others, including her superiors and she doesn’t shy from it. Everyone shittalks Toshiro’s father regardless, but she also gets reprimanded by Maizuru for seeing Toshiro as vaguely unreliable, again likely influenced by their history as childhood friends, sasses Maizuru when she goes off into an anecdote again, etc. Even as a kid with Toshiro, doubtlessly after starting her ninja training already considering that Toshiro started his at ~5yo, she told him it was unbecoming of him to cry. She’s the one both with the job and the will to keep others in check, like when it comes to Izutsumi not doing her tasks, etc etc.

Her childhood friend relationship with Toshiro only grew more professional with time, to her surprise but seems to be more about the thought of it rather than it affecting her emotionally. With the way her extra comic lays it out, it seems she expected to become Toshiro’s mistress because of history repeating itself, in a "it is what it is" way more than anything, which is in line with the reading that she’s more go-with-the-flow and "anything that I’m tasked with I’ll accomplish, as a matter of course". She’s not really social, and keeps herself ready to act at beck and call. She’s not uptight but she’s hard-working. So yeah like, taking pride in your skills but also keeping your identity mostly molded for efficiency. She doesn’t really think about it all, she just is and she’s fine with things as they are, going from one task to the next.

I think it’d be neat to look at her relationship with her parents… They’re both servants at the Nakamotos’, so while maybe busy like Maizuru was at times while raising Toshiro but still taking the time to cook for him (which, parents that prioritize work over her would make sense with how she became how she is), I wonder what their relationship was like, how much time they spent together, how Hien feels like towards them… I assume they’re a part in molding what her definition of normal is, after all if they are longstanding servants of the Nakamotos she has that much less reason to question such a life. But like… Have they ever had hard-hitting discussions, or is she pretty distant even with them? Did they push her into working harder, or were more hands-off? Does Hien maybe want to earn recognition by being capable? Hien has a younger sister that she gets along "so-so" with…

Hien’s younger sister seems to smile more, be more social and a bit nonchalant, such and such. Could be a point of tension that points to the "so-so", that they’re dissimilar/Hien thinks she doesn’t behave right or takes things too lightly, that she’s "unreliable" maybe. Or it could also point to some difference in how they grew up… Like oh I bet there could be tasty angst with mertocracy and siblings favoritism with her family thrown in there… Having to earn the love, earn your keep, earn your spot in the hierarchy (in work and family both)

To me she shines best as a foil, like to Beni, but like. She’s got neat stuff going on If you’re wondering where I took half of what I referenced from I recommend looking at my masterpost on the Nakamoto party, info and extras are compiled

#Dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #Hien #Meta #character analysis #fumi rambles #Working on a lot of different things on top of my actual work so things r slower than i’d like lately… Have this Discord ramble as apology #Meanwhile Beni’s attitude is very subservient and submissive. It’s interesting how little and how much difference they have simultaneously #On that front. Like you can’t really say Hien isn’t like a bodyguard ornament in the bg even if she shows more personality #Hienbeni fic will get finished one day I prommy #We’ve never seen Hien stressed which I think is a feat. Teach me your ways (probably repression)#Hien girlboss compilation #Ok Hien sister jealousy plot where she doesn’t know where the anger is coming from so she assumes it’s out of principle bc h slacks off #Hienbeni repressed anger power couple truly #So hmmm 3w2 enneagram Hien…? Beni I was thinking either 8w9 or 6w5… Maybe smth that becomes an 8 when stressed #You have to be pretty ballsy to specialize in explosives

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hannahssimblr · 2 days

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“I have to say, this is an impressive body of work.”

I shift in my seat, “By impressive do you mean that it’s good, or that there’s a lot of it?”

This gets a laugh. “Both,” says the man, Paul, flicking through a sketchbook with tattooed hands, fingers stained from nicotine. I notice things like this now. Hands. I notice their lines and their bones, all their interesting details, and perhaps Paul himself could gauge this now as he pours over my figure studies where there are pages upon pages of hands, old and young, my friends, my sisters at the piano, an old woman clutching at a handrail on the train, and my own, a hundred times in different ways, blisters, plasters, hangnails and bruises from the rugby pitch.

The woman, Ida, shuffles through a stack of watercolour paintings I did last summer, mostly seascapes, the beach and the rushes, the whitewashed houses and rusted iron of the Wexford coast. Just looking at them I can recall the grit of sand under my bare feet as I warmed them on the deck of our holiday home behind my portable easel. In three months I’ll return again for one last summer, and after that I expect I’ll miss it there.

“And you said you didn’t do a portfolio preparation year?” She says, peering over the rim of her glasses.

“No, I’m still at school.”

“Highly unusual for a sixth year,” her eyebrows climb up her forehead, “You've clearly dedicated a lot of time to this.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I like making art, I don’t know.”

It’s difficult to tell what this woman is thinking. Everything about her is harsh, dramatic, from the sharp fringe that sits straight and neat above her brows to the slash of her mouth, thin lips, pointy chin, hard eyes, but I have to assume for the sake of my own self esteem that she doesn’t positively loathe my portfolio. She spends some time looking through my work, slowly, methodically, sometimes leaning closer to frown at something, maybe some proportion that’s off, bad composition, a clumsy attempt at ambient occlusion that doesn’t hit the mark…

“It’s beautiful,” she says simply, and I exhale.

“Oh look, a familiar face,” Paul holds a portrait to Ida, “That’s the girl that we were interviewing a few people before this, what was her name again?”

“Michelle,” I say, “My girlfriend.”

Paul nods, “Michelle, right! Good likeness,” and places the notebook back onto the table. Leaning back in his chair, he cracks his knuckles, “Look, Jude, there’s no two ways about it here, your work is outstanding. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a portfolio that hits every mark, every requirement and goes beyond, I mean,” he lets out a puff of air and gestures to the table, “this is nuts. And for a sixth year? Come on. This stuff would blow some of our third and fourth year college students out of the water.”

I feel like I could melt off the chair with relief, but try to suppress my utter delight so that they don’t think I’m too hungry for validation.

“Cool.”

“It’s the sensitivity,” Ida adds, “Your observation skills, your sense of weight, movement, knowledge of anatomy. It’s rare to see this kind of work from a secondary school student. Your efforts are just… so impressive.”

“And look, we know it depends on your Leaving Cert points, and yeah, that’ll be a contributing factor when it comes to acceptance, but, like,” Paul looks over the table again, tossing his hands up conclusively, “as far as I’m concerned, we’ll see you in September.”

Ida’s mouth curls into a smile, “We hope. If you choose us.”

If I choose them? Am I dreaming? How have I become the kind of person who is coveted by an art school? Surely not. Surely soon I’ll wake up and discover that this whole interview has been a product of my dreams. Too much time spent stressing out over art, the requirements, the brief... Almost certainly I’ve fallen asleep somewhere and none of this is real.

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m glad you liked my stuff.”

“Blown away,” says Paul, and he leaps to his feet to shake my hand like I’ve just won a prize, “all we need is a pass in the Leaving Cert, you can surely manage it.”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I do.”

They’re smiling at me as I gather up my work, and still smiling as I give them one last sheepish wave from the door, and I realise I am still smiling too as I face the hallway of waiting students, staring at me with portfolios rested against their knees. I probably shouldn’t look too overjoyed, it might knock their confidence, so I try to look very bored instead as I pass by, though I may explode from the inside out.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's back baby #looking cuter than ever #I love hipster era Jude so much??#and c'mon #y'all know what's coming this summer #anyone recognise Ida?

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sadist1224 · 1 day

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Skyrim AU.

Description: After the battle with the dragon in the swamps, you rest in one of your escape rooms with Gas and a Ghost. You have to look after guys a little bit.

Number of words: yes, the dick knows, but it is read in about 6-8 minutes.

You don't have to understand the lora Skyrim device to read this.

Translation into English through a translator

In fact, you have just returned to Mirwatch. Ghost, exhausted and tired, throws off his armor as soon as he steps into the territory of the tower. Kyle is grumbling somewhere behind you about manners, but you're honestly on Simon's side right now. Killing a dragon is never easy. And it's even worse if the skirmish takes place in a swamp. Damn Morph. You hate swamps. And Ghost hates it too.

But unfortunately, absorbing the dragon soul is above your comfort.

It seems that Kyle is the only one who wins. Of course, a magician doesn't need to jump from hummock to hummock to catch up with a damn flying reptile and stab it with a sword. Fortunately for you, Ghost took the brunt of the attack, so you mostly used only the bow. The main thing is that the job is done.

Mirwatch was cozy. At some point, Kyle insisted that your team needed a base in the Morfal area, and although Price was unhappy with the costs, he agreed with the magician's proposal. Kyle found the tower himself, as he admitted, by accident. Expenses were spent on its improvement, and the end result was beyond praise. Two floors: the first is a household, the second is a laboratory. And as much as you love the Lake Estate in Falkreath, you should at least admit to yourself that Kyle did a good job.

You were brought back to the world by a rude grunt from the sleeping area, where Ghost was throwing off his dirty armor.

"I'll help him." You nod towards the grumbling man and Kyle nods back at you.

"Yeah, I'll be upstairs."

In sync with the retreating footsteps of the Gas, you approach Simon's bed.

"Problems?" - the nearest wall serves as a support for you while your gaze slides over the familiar scar on the man's back. He's sweating, a purple bruise blooms under his shoulder from a dragon strike, and Ghost hisses as he takes off his shirt.

"I need to go to the sauna." - the man glances over his shoulder without turning completely. His Daedric helmet rested on the bedside table while a black bandit mask handkerchief covered his nose and mouth.

"Yeah. I'll dial it. - you wave your hand, heading for the descent to the basement. "Come as soon as you're ready."

The man does not keep himself waiting. In fact, it appears almost a minute later, but you have enough time to quickly heat up the water with a flame spell.

By the time you take off your light armor and roll up your sleeves, Simon will already be sitting chest-deep in the water, legs wide apart.

It's not the first time you've seen him naked, but something gives you goosebumps every time. It's nice. Touching him, running my fingers over his scars, burrowing into his blond curls. But nothing gives you pleasure like an invisible feeling of trust on his part.

"You seemed to want to help." His grin is kind and teasing. It seems like you've been admiring him for too long.

"Don't push yourself," you smile, grabbing a clean little towel from the shelf and sitting on the edge of the tub, next to him.

There are several signed jars of soap and powders on the table next to you. Another advantage of Kyle's alchemy. You don't know much about it yourself, but Gas floats like a fish in this craft, so your team doesn't have to worry about hygiene products.

"Not lavender."

"Then the mountain flower?"

With a light movement, you run a rag over his arm, rising up to his shoulder, lightly massaging the tense muscles, and then smoothly move to his chest and abs, receiving a barely audible relaxed moan as a reward.

"Is it nice?" - you can't help but smile contentedly while Ghost changes position.

"Be careful. I can get used to it."

"Well, then you'll have to fight with Soap. - you run a rag along his spine, gently skirting the wounded place. "I won't wash you two at the same time."

Ghost quacks amusingly in response, relaxing his shoulders and plunging into the water a little more.

"Help with the hair? When you're done with his back, you put the rag aside and reach for the nearest bottle of liquid soap with your other hand.

In response, the man only lowers his head to you to make it more convenient. His hair has darkened from the water and foam, while you gently massage the back of his head and gently pull his strands, achieving another deeper moan.

"Don't tease me." - he growls warningly, but there is not a drop of aggression in his tone. You're chuckling softly.

"You're too tired, Ghost." - the lightness of your tone makes him turn and look defiantly into your face. You would have loved to fight with him a little more, but you were tired today too, and you had a few more things to do before going to bed.

"I'm going to put away your armor. - you get up from the edge of the tub, stretching your back and stretching your legs. - Go ahead yourself."

"Don't bother. You don't have to."

But you just smile at him, waving your hand again as you walk towards the stairs. At the very least, you need to collect the scattered parts and take them to his bed.

Already upstairs, you pick up his boots from the floor and cast a piteous glance at the ebony armor. The deep black color of the metal was stained with mud, grass and blood. We need to clean this before it dries up. After all, you can look after your hero, right?

In order not to waste time, you pick up the armor and go back to the stairs, only to the second floor, to Kyle, finding the magician at the alchemy counter.

"Can you create a liquid that cleans metal in one fell swoop, huh?" - you wink at the guy, attracting his attention, and put the armor on the bench.

"Sorry, I haven't reached that level of skill yet." He replies with a grin, nodding towards the bucket of water.

He himself had already changed into more casual clothes, and his robe, clean and fresh after cleansing magic, was hanging on one of the mannequins.

You exchange a few more words, and then focus on your business. You're cleaning armor, Kyle's experimenting with the nirn root. You finish before him, setting aside the bucket and brush. Your fatigue is already making itself felt: your eyes are tingling unpleasantly, and your legs are slowly becoming wadded up.

You approach Gaz from behind, easily hugging his waist and snuggling up to his back.

"It's going to be cold tonight. - he says softly, stroking your hand. - You can lie down with me if you want."

You whimper softly, leaving a light kiss on his cheek, and walk away, taking the armor with you.

Ghost is already asleep. His bed is right next to Kyle's, so you carefully place the armor next to the nearest mannequin, kiss Ghost on the forehead and go to bed yourself.

Tomorrow you have to walk to Solitude.

#call of duty #141 x reader #cod mw2 #au #ghost #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #skyrim #ghost x reader #gaz x reader

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 days

Text

Part 24

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 23 🟣 Part 25

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of drug abuse, addiction, tragic backstory, August's completely unwarranted hatred of jellybeans.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Family trip!!!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2

“Tell me something,” you whispered to Mike, who was sitting in the way too comfortable chair next to you, reclining the seat — probably without feeling any guilt towards Marshall and Sherlock, who were sitting behind him. They had plenty of leg room left. “How are we flying first class right now?”

“August refuses to fly coach,” Marshall answered that question for Mike. The answer didn't surprise you. Like, at all.

“It’s not like we can't afford it,” August snapped from the seat in front of you. The one next to him was empty.

“Charles would be proud of you,” Mike taunted. You didn't see the smack that followed, but you heard Mike's pained grunt all too clearly.

“Please don't break him,” you laughed. Mike snuggled into your side, glaring at the seat in front of him and kicking it for good measure. “And you can stop this tantrum right now, or sit next to August.” It was a good thing he was so damn cute.

“He's not wrong, though,” Sherlock pointed out, a hint of amusement to his voice. “Charles is the only other member of our family with the same insistence on certain levels of luxury.”

“Do I count as a member of your family?” you chuckled. All of your guys looked at you as if you'd gone crazy. And it was a silly question; of course you were a member of the family. “Because I think I might just be learning to appreciate those standards.”

“And exactly how expensive are dates going to get now?” Mike asked with a smile. “Because… Just because they are all fucking loaded, doesn't mean I have unlimited access to those funds…”

“Mostly because an ungodly amount would be spent on Jelly Beans, and an even more ridiculous amount would be spent on videogames,” August sneered. Mike just shrugged — he could hardly deny it; the fact that your arrangement meant Mike didn't need his mountains of Jelly Beans anymore, hadn't exactly meant he wasn't still eating plenty of them, much to August's chagrin.

“August, just because you live a boring, joyless, Jelly Beanless life, doesn't mean I have to,” Mike sighed.

“How long has this been going on?” You asked Marshall and Sherlock.

“I'd say since the invention of the Jelly Bean,” Sherlock said, “but Mike wasn't around back then. I believe that happened somewhere in the late eighteen hundreds…”

“As long as Mike has been around, then?” you asked, not wanting to ask them too many invasive questions such as ‘how in the hell do you know when the Jelly Bean was invented?’

“At least for as long as they've known each other,” Marshall answered, explaining that that hadn't happened until about thirty years ago. Still, that was a long time to have a whole feud over candy, you pointed out.

“It's a long time to be addicted to candy,” August growled.

“Eh, I guess an “addiction" to Jelly Beans beats all of those other addictions I had,” Mike shrugged. “Oh…” His cheeks flushed when he saw the troubled look on your face. “I guess I never told you…”

“Much of anything, Mike,” you said softly.

“It's not the best story.” He tried to shrug it off, but you could tell something was bothering him. “It's, eh… It's not exactly a version of me I want you to know about, either.” He looked at you, the sadness in his eyes becoming more and more pronounced as time went by, and it took some serious effort to convince him you loved him for the man he was now, not who he was forty years ago.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. “What do you know? So I know where to start…”

“That Marshall ran into you in the eighties and that you were hanging out with a bunch of goths and goth-adjacent figures,” you summed up quickly, eager to get to the rest of the story.

“Alright, well… What’s important is that you know we're talking about Berlin in the eighties. My dad got a job there, so we moved from here to Berlin when I was six or something. That went well for a few years, and then my dad died when I was fourteen. I didn't think much of it at the time, but over the years… Something about it doesn't check out, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if my mom killed him because he had an affair with his secretary, but whatever. Water under the bridge, I guess.”

“Mike! The fuck?” He said it so casually…

“Sweetcheeks, it doesn't matter, okay? Dad was gone, mom worked all the time to keep a roof over our heads, and I became completely unbearable—”

“And that never went away,” August said. You could tell he was smiling.

“Hey, thanks!” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “Anyway. I'm a completely unmanageable teen at this point, and Berlin in the eighties was not the place for that. Like, it goes wrong shockingly quickly. I think I was sixteen when it really started going south. Like I said; Berlin in the eighties was something else.”

“There were two things the government couldn't exactly get a handle on,” Marshall interjected. “One was vampirism, the other heroin. The two went hand in hand, more or less.” He looked down at his hands, clearly not at ease.

You had just decided not to press the matter when Sherlock offered an explanation. “Junkies were… not simply easy targets, although it would be hard to deny that they were.” It actually took you a while to notice that Sherlock and Mike had switched place, and that while you were looking straight at Sherlock, who was now sitting next to you. “Back in the day, addicts and vampires were connected by the mutual illegitimacy of their existences — although the vampires naturally had several advantages over humans from marginalized communities—”

“Anyway,” Mike cleared his throat and appeared next to you again. “The thing about a junkie is that they'll do pretty much anything for a fix. Including volunteering to feed vampires in exchange for some cash. Now, those were not the people you've heard us talking about up until now…”

Apparently, the goths you'd heard about had been the ones who took Mike in, the ones who tried to get him clean. “And they succeeded,” Mike said with an apologetic grin on his face. “Several times, even. My mom had stopped caring at that point, and then when I was nineteen — a few weeks before Julia, my ex, ran into Marshall — mom died, too…”

“He found out what I was not much later,” Marshall said.

“How?”

“I walked in on them, after Julia and I broke up, except I didn't walk in on what I at first expected to be walking in on, if you catch my drift.”

“Went about as well as you'd expect from the guy who's pretty much okay with everything,” Marshall laughed. “We did really well for a few years.”

“We'll spare you the lengthy, boring part with all the domestic bliss,” Mike swooped in before Marshall could elaborate. “When I was… twenty-two? Fairly sure I was twenty-two, yeah… Anyway, I met a girl—”

“Of course you did,” you blurted out before you could help it, immediately looking up at Mike with what must have been the guiltiest look of your entire life so far on your face.

“I don't blame you for that. Anyway… She was in trouble — the kind of trouble I'd been out of for years, at that point, and I thought I could be to her what Julia and Iris had been for me, but—”

“You relapsed?” you tried. Right on the money.

“Yep… Even years later, Hedwig — that was her name — pulled me right back under. Wasn't her fault, of course. It's not like she put a gun to my head and forced me to stick a needle in my arm or anything. Can't even say it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't met her. Anyway, the point is; it happened… Not a great time. I—” He nervously fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I’m happy to tell you the rest, but… later?”

You took his skittish look at the other passengers to mean he’d prefer a more private setting. Deal.

A left turn and the change from smooth asphalt to crunching gravel beneath the tires of the car startled you enough to let out a loud, disapproving hum and lift your head. You hadn’t been asleep, per se, but definitely dozing off a little, your head resting comfortably on Marshall’s shoulder. Mike’s hand was on your thigh, eerily — vampirically — still ever since you’d asked him for the third time if he could stop moving it because it tickled. He enjoyed tickling you, you were not a fan.

“We’re here, princess,” August said from the front seat, and you leaned over to look out the window, seeing nothing but forest, forest and more forest.

“We’re where?” you asked, surprised at the absence of the house you’d expected to see.

“The estate,” Marshall noted calmly. And exactly how big was this estate? “Big enough.”

“Charles likes his privacy,” Mike noted. His fingers were tapping a gentle rhythm on your knee now, and his legs restlessly bounced up and down with excitement. “You’ll love this place!”

The car finally pulled into something that actually looked like a driveway — that is to say, it was the same gravel, the same road, but you could finally see that there was a house attached to it. Mansion. Villa. Actually it was closer to something resembling a small castle, but this wasn’t Europe, so…

“Charles also likes extravagance,” August snarled his answer to your unasked question.

“I can see that,” you muttered breathlessly as you followed Mike out of the car when it came to a halt in front of the stairs that led to a pretty grand front door. “Where is Sherlock?”

“Right here, darling,” he called from the top of the steps, where August was also already standing — holding both of your suitcases and your backpack.

“Wait, how did the three of you travel so… light?” And how had it not occurred to you to ask that question before now?

“We have everything we need here,” August explained. “Mike, get her up here!”

One of the heavy wooden doors opened the second Mike put you down, and a small woman stumbled through it. She was a little older than you, with long, black hair down to her waist, and she looked absolutely exhausted.

“Priya!” Sherlock said, grasping her elbow to steady her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Holmes,” she replied before turning to you and reaching out her hand. “Hi, I’m Priya. I’m—”

“Dinner.” Oh, for the love of god, why did you have to snap at her? You didn’t even know the woman, but the thought of her feeding your vampires was entirely too much. “Sorry! I—”

“I get it,” she chuckled. “My sister, Nalini, has your… talent. She’s protective of her family as well. And you’re not wrong, just a bit impolite.” You deserved that.

“I don’t know what came over me,” you said. “I’m so sorry.” Not to mention how rude you would have been if you had been wrong… What if this woman hadn’t even had any idea she was visiting vampires?

“Are you sure you’re okay, Priya?” Mike asked, his brow furrowed, and his voice concerned.

“I’m alright, guys,” she laughed — but it took a lot of effort to do so. “I’ve been sick before, I always survived.” With the back of her hand, she wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow, and you noticed an intricate reddish design on her palms. She caught you as you tried to get a better look. “From my eldest sister’s wedding,” she said. “I can show you pictures later this week, but I really have to go. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can start sleeping off this cold, or whatever it is.”

“Please let us know when you get home,” Sherlock said as he walked her to the cab you’d just stepped out of.

“That was unnecessarily rude, princess,” August snapped when the car drove off.

“I said I was sorry,” you muttered quietly, not daring to look August in the eye. “I… You’ve all known her for a while, haven’t you?”

“She’s been coming here for years. About a year before Sherlock and Mike moved away,” Marshall explained. “Now, what’s really bothering you about this?”

“I thought you’d never been in this kind of… arrangement before,” you muttered, also avoiding Walter’s eyes.

“And we haven’t. You heard her; she’s not like you.” Marshall ushered you into the hallway, where the others were already waiting. The sound of the door falling shut behind you made you jump. “Charles was willing to pay a small fortune to drive her out here. Once a month, just as usual. And all the rules of the Bank still applied, just as usual. So, if you’re worried for so much as a second that you’re not special to us, you can stop that now.”

“Did she say she would be back later this week?” you asked softly. Part of you hated the thought of anyone but you feeding your vampires — even the ones you hadn’t met yet…

“She’s a friend of the family, not just… dinner.” The unfamiliar voice behind you startled you more than the closing door had, and you spun around as quickly as you could — but not quicker than the owner of the voice, who had apparently already walked around you, and was now standing behind you. “Would you stand still and let me do the moving, please?”

Two hands descended on your shoulders and gently turned you around, so that you were now face to face with the ‘new’ vampire. He was handsome, his face all angles and edges, with kind eyes and a charming smile. Judging from the sour look on August’s face, this had to be Charles.

“Charles Brandon, pleasure to meet you,” he said softly as he took your hand in his and shook it briefly. Perhaps too briefly? The charm of his smile almost made you overlook the sadness behind those kind blue eyes. Almost.

Next to you, Mike was swaying back and forth on his feet, waiting for introductions to come to an end so he could— Before Charles had even fully let go of your hand, Mike lunged forward to hug the man. “Alright, kid,” Charles laughed, “you’re home. It’s okay.”

“Where’s…” Mike asked as he let go so the others could subject Charles to similar treatment of warm ‘glad to be back’-hugs. Of course, the one between August and Charles was short and tense, but other than that, it was a perfect display of warm familiarity.

“Right behind you,” another unfamiliar voice spoke. This time, you didn’t bother to turn around — a wise call, as a split second later, another man appeared before you.

“Melot,” he said as he reached for your hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. For some reason, it made your heart skip a beat. Melot looked much younger than Charles, or any of the others — younger than Mike, even — and you were fairly sure it didn’t have much to do with the dark, shoulder-length curls that framed his face. “I’m glad you’re finally here.”

“He’d ask you how your trip was, but… he already knows,” Charles noted, adding to your confusion. “I see she hasn’t been told much about him? Does the same apply to me?”

“She knows enough,” August growled, followed by a grunt as Marshall kicked him in the shins.

“August, that’s enough, go to your room!” Sherlock snapped. It was absolutely hilarious to hear those words from him, but what really had you in stitches was the fact that he actually walked away — presumably to the aforementioned room.

You only stopped laughing when Mike gently nudged your side with his elbow, at which point you looked at the others in the hallway, who were all looking at Sherlock in bewilderment. After a strange, tense silence that lasted far too long, August joined you again.

“Would someone fucking explain to me why he got to do that, here?” he sneered.

Melot chuckled softly. “It would seem that our hierarchy changed with the coming of our queen.”

#mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction #natural fic #naturalfic

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catbeeisafraid · 2 days

Text

I don’t have like a ton to say about this but I have mixed feelings- also spoilers ✨

I like Crystal I really do but at times her dialogue bothered me and some of her behavior was kind of obnoxious to me- like at times when she started aggressively inserting herself into situations and just kind of made it about her? Like in episode seven (though this happened many other times too) where she was having a total fit about not going to hell when it’s clearly for her own good and not about her no matter how much she cares? and I totally understand that this is her being written as an immature teenager who hasn’t been dead or a teen for 30-100 years but as a teenager this sort of selfish immature writing kind of gives me icky feelings because I know so many people who are mostly emotionally intelligent not just raging all the time.- and I mean that for a lot of teenagers and teen girls in writing, to make them tough and likable they are made volitile and annoying which to me is not likable (my opinion, I just don’t like the trope that’s not what I’m talking about right now anyway-) I do think she had good development and I liked her a lot better by the end, some people on other forums were saying that her actress was weaker than the rest of the cast and I don’t really know about that? I think maybe she was artificial at times but I’m blaming that on the writing. I also didn’t like her dialogue about her “crazy demon ex” either, it felt very forced? -Not her emotions about the whole mind cage thing I get that but just all of the “UGH WHY ARE THEY SO FUCKING NOSY IM JUST TRYING TO GET OVER MY STUPID STUPID CRAZY ABUSIVE STALKER DEMON EX BOYFRIEND UGHHH ILL DOUBLE KILL THOSE BOYS IF ITS TGE LAST THING I DO” that felt out of place to me- Lastly I get that this is also an aspect of her teenager-ness but I didn’t like the amount she cursed? I have no qualms with cursing but it felt to me like when little kids and middle schoolers start cursing where they just explosively yell fuck when like literally nothing warranting that kind of expletive has happened? She curses too often it makes her sound really stupid? Like the ep 7 “take me to hell I won’t die” thing, she was screaming at Charles who was being pretty reasonable like “fuck that I’m going he’s my fucking friend too fine then fuck it- fuck you ill find another way to get to hell” like yes she was emotional but that isn’t what teenagers sound like guys?

idk- I’d love to hear what other people think and to be clear I do like her I just focused on the negative- I guess it’s a human thing. She had lots of strong points just I ending up not liking how much she was on screen, this isn’t really about you? It’s about the dead boy detective? Give me more ghosts or Edwin or Charles or Jenny or Niko or Mr walrus please? They were fun I like them? I just felt like there were times where she was over shadowing Edwin and Charles and they are what’s actually important to the show? I think I’d like her more in smaller doses- I felt like I spent too much time having to stop and be like “girl step back this is not about you, you are not the star right now”

and to the argument of her actress being inexperienced or over acting or just not great- I have no specific feelings on this but like the other main cast had for the most part very little screen acting experience and were Fantastic so i don’t know what to feel in that area? so yes, i think crystal is an interesting character and i think she grew on me and developed in the season but i also definitely think that she’s annoying and I’m conflicted because i don’t want to not like her-..

what are your thoughts? Id love to hear different perspectives but please be nice to me because I’ll probably delete this and cry (unless that was your goal, then carry on)

that was all like super ramble-y sorry- but I hope I communicated semi accurately! Thank you

#neil gaiman #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #george rexstrew #kassius nelson #jayden revri #good omens #spoilers #crystal palace

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