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usagi-mitsu · 3 years

Text

Werlyt & Gaius - a bunch of thoughts.

I am a little late to the party. I know. But I just finished the Emerald weapon and before I go to try out the „not Zenos“ weapon as in „Diamond“, I need to get my thoughts on the story straight.

Perhaps I have been spoiled by 5.0s brilliant MSQ and cannot appreciate the inherent beauty of at least decent writing any longer. But this felt so wrong and out of tune with the rest of the game. I started writing this 2 hours ago! I wanted to one in bed by now! XD But I had to get it out of my system… so….

Spoilers for the MSQ and Werlyt incoming??? And no I did not re-read this so not just spoilers but also writing errors incoming. -.-

The good

These fights are epic! I have only ever cleared the normal versions, but I loved those. They are amazing. The callbacks to Eula (her being a woman here! When did they discover that???), Regula (may he rest in peace) and Gaius himself in his prime were delightful. But I could do with a little less rotating, ok? A dragoon has positional, you know? And being allowed to pilot my very own mecha was like *chefs kiss*. On that front? Well done Square Enix!

I am also glad they were able to get another use out of Porta Praetora! That place looks amazing with the wide open field and the lake – and Ala Mhigo across it. It was one of my favourite Stormblood areas and I am always glad to return there. And of course… being able to visit the allied camp again… And Werlyt itself. It’s simply a beautiful place. It reminds me very much of southern Greece. If you’ve watched the movie Mamma Mia you know what I mean.

The music too was really nice. But I don’t think I’ll… you know… listen to it on repeat as I am doing with other parts of the soundtrack.

I’ve also loved how much amazing lore we got about Garlemald and especially the garlean military. And the military abroad. The way soldiers not from the mainland get treated. I love learning about these things.

Gaius

The man. The legend. The guy yelling in Prae.

He’s so very boring here. He has so much potential as a character and maybe I’m missing something, but all throughout this story he has been nothing but passive. He’s a reactive character in this storyline. You know. The guy who made deals with Lahabread (the d is intended), tried to take over Eorzea, lead a whole army, stood idly by as the moon dropped, almost died but then decided just not to die and then though „hm… I’ve got so much freetime now. How about I go and hunt some ascians?“ That guy is NOT a reactive character. He is active. He goes out of his way to make shit he wants happen. And in here? He seems too starstruck and devastated by his adopted kids actions to actually have one clear thought.

The only explanation I have is that he might have gotten hit in the head by something on his way to the ruby weapon. I get why he would rely on Cid for help, but the WoL??? The alliance? If you wish to be an ally and help or something, fucking act like it. You were a former legatus and I expect you to live up to your name – even after retiring.

And yeah.. I guess it’s hard having to watch your kids willingly, knowingly dying. But you fucking raised them. You are a big part of the reason to why they are in that predicament. So like… Aside from that I don’t even get why you are in this story at all.

And for the record: I’m not sorry for him. I’m just flabbergasted by all the bullshit we’ve been learning about him.

To be quite honest, I think this story could have worked just as well or maybe even better, if we got another man as the „hero“ of the story. I am talking about none other than our engineering, hammer-swinging, ex-enemy - of course talking about Nero!

The MSQ has long established that his research into the Ultimate Weapon had been taken, twisted and turned – Estinien had to experience this first-hand. I’m not saying that Nero was in need of a redemption arc and I cannot remember if these weapons were of his creation or even stem from anything he did, but it would make so much more sense for me, to have him confront his past in the garlean military like this and be responsible for the death of his former colleagues. Soldiers that he served with, whom he faught with. Give me Nero and them working together to get the weapons going and him bonding with them as his pilots to a degree. Comrades. Not that strange familiar bond that Gaius appareantly has with them. … Scratch that: Let Gaius be the father figure. Him being that wouldn’t change Nero’s relationship with them, but maybe his with Gaius as his superior.

The story wouldn’t even need to try and redeem Nero: He has already gone through major character development with the MSQ and the Omega raid tier. It would simply be Nero, confronted with the things he created, hopefully instilling more morals and a sense of responsibility for his creations. Heck: Let Cid yell at the guy! Seriously! Cid sticking around to help out would make so much more sense if it was Nero instead of freaking Gaius! Cid hated the guy! He might be a professional, but he is not one to torture himself by staying around a guy he (as far as I know) detests.

Make Nero the central figure and give Cid and Gaius the roles of „angel and demon“: One desperately trying to reach out to his old friend, reminding him why they became engineers and trying to make him realise that he can’t just run around designing weapons and leaving the scematics for everyone to read; while the other has trouble letting go of his imperial past and is struggling to see the errors of his ways – if Nero was wrong, than he (Gaius) was wrong too -and of course they did all of this for their home, to further their cause, and to bring peace to the savage lands of Eorzea, who had been fighting amongst themselves for so long… You get the point.

And you could still have these gundam themed fights. But I think everything would make so much more sense in general.

But speaking of which-

The children

I do not truly care for any of them. And that is a shame: I do think there are great characters and dynamics hidden behind these very few cutscenes. When they were first introduced I was wondering why I was suddenly watching „heartwarming“ cutscenes of my foes as children – until I realised that I was supposed to care and that they were supposed to make me feel pity for Gaius. I was supposed to feel bad for him, because they died and he blames himself. But while their fates so far have been gruesome, I cannot say that I am sad they died. They chose to die as they did. There were a myriad more options. And they chose that.

Actually. Their whole story makes me feel like they were huge masochist from the very beginning. They could have just run away and gotten help from someone more competent than them, but they stayed in an abusive military arrangement just so nobody else got hurt?? Please. Use your brains next time. And for the Berserk-like torture scene? I mean. I get what was implied here. But was it necessary? As a writer myself I follow the rule that torture and sexual violence should never be used in a story, unless it must be in there for the story to work or to bring across a vital point important to the story or it’s moral (or if you are writing porn and you are into it – but we are talking official in-game content here). But the violence towards these „children“ seems unnecessary for the plot and the violence of their deaths by piloting the weapons is already gruesome enough. Sometimes it’s better to leave things like this out – the emotional torture of feeling stuck and having a martyrs complex would have been enough here, I think. If the rest of the story had been well written at least.

(I believe my utter lack of sympathy shows how little character developement they had. I love tragic characters, who choose to suffer for the good of other people – even better if those people don’t even like them. It’s just my thing. And those kids are just… well.)

Their reasons and especially why they were making Allie out as the one who would need to survive was also just… weird. Like. I feel like 75% of what happened would not have happened, if they actually talked to each other, used their brains and had done something about their problems. But no…

These characters are also so exchangeable with basic anime/j-RPG character tropes… I only remember Alfonse, Rex and Allie – because I just did the Emerald weapon. And right afterwards I thought, „huh. So… Fullmetal Alchemist?“ Which brings me to my third point …

…the story at large.

„Pacing is a virtue“ or was it patience..? Anyhow: The author of this story should have had more patience with his story and characters and taken a bloody break! And I am not talking about the obvious blunder of „How is Allie feeling?“, „she is in shock and you cannot talk to her“ turning to „oh yeah if you are careful you can talk to her now“. I mean. WTF. That was MAYBE 10-20 in-game minutes of dialogue.

But everything was moving so very fast – and not even in a good way. There are few things better than a fast paced, action rich story about a group of young people trying to safe (their) world. But if you try to cram in two expansions worth of character development and story telling into about two hours of content each patch.. Well, then you get whatever the hell this is.

Gaius is a very interesting character and while I did not understand why they needed to bring him back in 4.4 (?), I do see how he could be a good asset for endwalker. And his involvement in 5.0 with Estinien was just a dear delight. So I am not opposed to learning more about him, to watching his character grow and changed with time. But I am not ready for badly written content of which 50% get told by suddenly induced echo-sequences. I mean – weren’t there rules for the echo at some point???

I’m not sure which one of the devs said it, but the feature that let’s you play an NPC is super convenient for them to tell the story, because before they could only show what happened where the WoL was.

And that’s just it. Rule number 1 in writing anything is „Show don’t tell“. It feels like they literally turned this one around for these cutscenes. While Valens torture and diet-Fandaniel-routine were very much „show“, the rest of the story was one long cutscene of exposition: We get exposition by Cid, by Gaius, by echo, by Gaius and his crew again, then by Allie. Before having to watch scenes we are not there for.

BTW. Dear square Enix: Your writers are capable of writing amazing villains, antagonist and despicable assholes. You don’t have to write „asshole, must die“ on Valens name card. And I also think the „WoL, strike here“ sign above his head was a tad bit too much. Nuance, dear writers. Nuance. Or perhaps I just got spoiled by these last few foes in the MSQ.

When I said I wanted to just be able to punch a bad guy for once and not feel bad about it, I did not mean this! I meant that I just wanted to play training dummy with Danny-Boy.

(Oh! And as far as I’m concerned you can just… sideline Gaius … „would be killer“ and the lady? Make them targetable NPCs with Dialoge to read. Let them stand somewhere accessible and comment on the latest developement. But ffs don’t give me hour long speeches about how you are going to kill Gaius if he does something you don’t like. The guy could and would wipe the floor with you if he felt like it. -.- So. Please. Shut up.)

Conclusion

Basically. I have to finish the Diamond weapon. But I doubt it will change my perception of this story line even in the slightest.

To be perfectly honest though … bringing Gaius back, having this story with and about him, forcing a sort of redemption ark here. It feels like they are really „grooming“ him to be a morally grey ally in Endwalker, with perhaps a big part to play in the endgame. At this point I wouldn’t even be surprised if they pulled a GoT and made him „King in the North“. Or if they had him die a heroic death to save the world, but especially his country. And to do so they need us to think his sacrifice means something. Or that he is the right person to lead Garlemald into a new future (I don’t think he is). But: For one, neither we (the players) nor the characters need to find him worthy of throne or death by heroism for his sacrifice/ascension to work. To be a useful tool for the story, only the other garleans who might oppose the alliance and scions need to deem him or his sacrifice „worthy“. And only they. And Ishikawa-san has all of 6.0 to accomplish whatever the hell she needs him for. He did not need to be the center of his own botched redemption ark. If that’s what they wanted to do. Or maybe I’m looking at this all wrong and all they wanted was to give the writes in training some literal training grounds to test their abilities.

But! On a positive note: I have yet to be told that raids and other side content are canon to any degree. So when playing the next story quests I’ll blissfully ignore all that happened in Werlyt and if it get’s mentioned (because they do that sometimes when you’ve done certain content) I’ll just ignore it.

Happy ignoring! Also: GIVE ME MORE NERO CONTENT!

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maruzzewrites · 4 years

Note

Risotto & 25 please and thank you!

heeeeey so guess who’s here with some content!

25. “Just give into me, love.”

Content warnings: yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking, break-in, recording (not done by Risotto).

In a way, learning the truth about what was happening would probably bring little solace to your mind. You fidgeted with the camera, looking around the room, then back at the television right in front of you. Setting up the entire mass of cables, cords and wires was enough to almost bring you to the decision of giving up entirely, but the brief thought of the events of the past weeks was enough to set your resolution on fire.

Yet, you hesitated a bit more as you searched for the recordings. You left your house unattended for an entire week, using the spare vacation days you still had from your job and the kind invite from some friends to step away from that place and put your plan in motion. With a sigh, you selected the first recording of the list, for the first day of your absence.

You saw yourself turning on the camera, adjusting it just enough to get a complete view of your bedroom, and then taking your suitcase to leave. The following hours were quiet, and you fast-forwarded the recording after just half an hour of watching. The first hours turned into the entire morning, and then midday passed with no sight of life. Nothing out of place, no one looking through your belongings, your drawers and your wardrobe still intact.

You increased the speed, watching the still room and the moving light, the sun setting under your gaze before your neighbor emerged from the closed door. The sudden presence made you almost jump, and you paused the video to stare. After a few seconds, you took a deep breath and remembered the favor she was doing for you, checking your plants and making sure to recharge the camera every evening. You even left an entire package of batteries at the side of the device, but avoided answering her questioning look when she accepted the request.

The recording was temporally suspended when your neighbor approached bookshelf. You selected the following video just to see she was setting it up again, and she was soon gone from your room, now engulfed in complete darkness and with the door ajar. One hour passed, you were about to skip the sequence again, when a sound resonated in the empty apartment. You froze, turning around to see if it was in real time, but returned to the video in time to see the door of your room opening slowly.

The creaking hinges stopped, and you wanted to assume it was a forgotten window in the main room, open, that let the evening wind in. The door moved again to return to its initial position with the same slow motion. After, something akin to steps, soft and silent, came from the television’s speakers. Your wardrobe, suddenly, opened up and the clothes hanging moved up and down the iron bar on top. The few hangers that were left empty because of your little trip rattled against the back of the wardrobe, due to the harshness of the movement. The wood of the closet’s door creaked, as if under some sort of pressure.

You were spellbound, by something you could only assume was a hex. You argued with yourself that it was fake, impossible, that your neighbor was pulling a prank on you and adding special effects to the video just to freak you out. Then you remembered how you had to set up her phone, computer and various electronics around the house unless she wanted to live as a complete caveman, and you felt yourself gulp. Again, the steps resonated, but now they felt even closer. You supposed it was because of your enhanced senses because of fear, so you kept your eyes on the screen.

The following hour on the footage showed drawers opening and slamming shut with animosity, the closet was left open and you could see the clothes on the shelves and the hangers being tugged at or moved around, then your bed was also assaulted by the invisible force as the pillow went flying at the edge of the mattress, along with the blankets and the sheets.

Eventually, the hurricane that came in threw the door open and the stillness of the night returned, leaving behind a mess behind. As in a trance, you stopped paying true attention to the recording, letting it go on at normal speed as you heard your labored breath in the silence. Your mind was playing tricks on you, making you hear footsteps as soft as the ones you heard earlier, then something dropped right at your side. You jumped from your position, standing up, and looked around you.

The room was darker now, dusk coming quickly, the only source of light the low sun outside the window and the neon colors from the television. You let out a shaky breath and sat back down, returning to the screen. You skipped the rest of the night, which seemed pretty uneventful, just like the following day. When your neighbor came, she was surprised by the display in front of her. You could see she checked every single corner of the room to find nothing, no sign of robbery or aggression, so she limited herself to put thing in their place and recharge the camera. In the back of your mind, you could remember the missed calls of that evening, too occupied with spending time with your friends to pay attention to your phone. You bit your lower lip for that.

Now, with night coming back on the footage, you felt yourself paying more attention. But nothing came, not even the door moved. You alternated between watching at normal speed and fast-forwarding, shoulder tense and clutching the remote in your trembling hands, confusing the creaks on the wood for sounds near you. Even the light gush of air at your shoulders made you shiver, as if you were ready for someone to touch you.

You stared at the screen, until a little movement of the door deep into the afternoon of the third day made you pause the recording. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for another round of incomprehensible occurrences, but everything was calm. The minutes on the screen became an hour, then two, until the sun was disappearing again. Your neighbor opened the door, with caution, peeked inside. When she was sure she was alone, she stepped in, changed the batteries and jogged outside, eager to be out of that room as soon as possible.

Not enough time passed to prepare for what was happening right in front of you. The air shifted around a figure, now materializing, taking form and depth, absorbing the colors around it. The shaped sharpened and fixed, until the face of a man was staring directly at you. You felt your heart stop at the sight of Risotto Nero, the odd man who you shared a morning routine with and who attempted to get into your graces some time ago. His black eyes were looking directly into the camera, into your soul, completely immobile against the wall.

He stalked to the front of the bookcase, knelt down to look directly into the lens, then a demented grin split his face in half. You felt as if something heavy settled on your shoulders, not quite resting on your skin, but looming over you as a grim promise and horrific sensation. Your eyes were glued to the screen, to those pixels giving back that terrible visage, the silence stretching. You weren’t sure if your sense of time was wrapped by the dread or he was simply staring, and staring, not saying anything.

“So, this is your plan,” his voice sounded jarring, deep and too cold on that manic face. The wind made you shiver again, so you shrugged your shoulders and caved into yourself as a scared, defenseless animal. His words were like blades, wounding you with every syllable, “I checked on you. I always do. When you weren’t here, last time, I looked for you and asked around.”

You felt your head spin, as if your force was drained. You felt colder too. Something shifted around you, the sound of rustling came from all round you, but you were sure it was your imagination. You tried to listen to Risotto’s words, “You went with your friends. Are they the reason you rejected me? You went away with them because you don’t want to see me? Or were they the ones that convinced you to avoid me?”

Your mind was drifting. It must be because of the confusion, the shock, your head was floating in a sea of fog and there was no light to guide you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to keep warm in the increasing cold, but they felt bigger and different. Risotto was still talking, “It doesn’t matter, it won’t matter at all. Just give into me, love, it will be so much easier if you don’t ruin everything for yourself.”

You were somewhat aware of the low chuckle coming from the television. Or was it above you? You didn’t know, but you relaxed against the softness enveloping you.

You felt something heavy on top of your head, like someone resting their chin there, and you drifted into unconsciousness before you could think too much about it.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #risotto x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #it's your boy uhm skinny penis here #Anonymous

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scarletwidowvibes · 4 years

Text

Other Times

Spock x Fem!Reader

Warning!: Swearing

“What the fuck Jim?” You ask, staring at the former first officer.

“I didn’t expect him to throw us off the ship!” Jim exclaims while throwing his hands up.

“Well now he has and we’re stranded on this ice planet so bravo!” You yell at him.

Jim turns at the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. You turn in time to see some monstrosity that almost looks like a bear running at you two.

“Oh this is your fault!” Jim yells, grabbing your hand and running from the... animal.

“How is this just my fau- what the fuck!” You yell when another monstrosity, this time a huge red... lizard? eats the bear thing.

Jim screams in confusion and you both start running from the lizard thing, jumping over a cliff and into snow.

“Into that cave!” You yell, pointing to an opening in a glacier and you and Jim start running again.

Unfortunately the lizard thing is small enough to fit into the cave and backs you and Jim into a corner.

“Oh brilliant idea Y/n!” Jim yells over the roar of the lizard thing.

Before you can respond fire is thrown at the lizard thing and it backs off and out of the cave. The man who’s holding the torch turns and furrows his brows at the two of you.

“James Tiberius Kirk and Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.” The old man says.

“A friend of yours?” You ask Jim who in turn shakes his head.

“I am Spock.” The old man, Spock, says.

“You know I kind of see a resemblance.” You say before being pushed into the snow by Jim.

“Bullshit.” Jim says.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jim sit with Ambassador Spock for who knows how long, listening to him tell his story.

“Wow, so you and Jim are besties? Could’ve fooled me.” You say, leaning against the glacier wall.

“Yes, me and Jim are very close. But you and I, Y/n, are married.” Ambassador Spock says causing Jim to choke.

“Oh my god! You and Spock are married?” Jim asks through his very loud laughter. You roll your eyes and push him over, into the snow.

“Well then why did you throw me off the Enterprise?” You ask.

“Right now I am experiencing pain I never thought I could. My planet has been destroyed and as you both say my mother has died. Currently I am trying to do what I think is most logical.” Ambassador Spock explains. “Jim, you need to expose my pain to the crew and make me realize that I have been emotionally compromised. Then you must become captain of the Enterprise, make me your first officer, and defeat Nero.”

“Sure, that sounds simple enough.” Jim says, rubbing his head with his hands.

“Okay aside from all that thrilling stuff, we are still stuck on a ice planet with no way to get back into the Enterprise.” You remind the two of them.

“There is a Star Fleet officer on this planet and we will need his help.” Ambassador Spock says, gesturing for you and Jim to follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh great! Finally you brought me some food!” A Scottish man says, sitting back in a chair. He starts an argument with his friend while you and Jim look at each other with confusion.

“You are Montgomery Scott.” Ambassador Spock says, to which the Scottish man nods.

“Scotty yes, and this here is Keenser.” Scotty says, pointing at his friend.

“I am Ambassador Spock, this is Y/n and Jim.” Ambassador Spock introduces your little group.

“Okay that’s great and all but do you have any food?” Scotty asks.

“Uh I have some cheese puffs.” You say, taking the bag of cheese puffs and handing them over to Scotty. Ambassador Spock and Jim turn to you with raised brows but you just shrug.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ambassador Spock pulls you aside while Keenser, Scotty, and Jim get the launch pad prepared.

“Y/n, when Jim reveals my true emotions I will be very distraught. You will need to try and comfort me to the best of your abilities.” He tells you.

“I mean I’ll try but I can’t promise anything.” You reply. He nods and then gestures for you to join Scotty and Jim on the launch pad.

“Live long and prosper.” Is the last thing you hear before being transported into the Enterprise.

“Uh Jim, where’s Scotty?” You ask. You and Jim look around before hearing someone knock from inside one of the water containers.

“Scotty?” Jim asks but Scotty gets sucked into a tube before he can answer.

“Oh my god, Scotty!” You yell chasing after him. Jim follows close behind, trying to find a way to open something so Scotty can at least breathe.

You’re standing under a panel, watching Scotty zoom towards you when Jim pulls a lever, opening the panel and dropping Scotty onto you.

“Ow! What the hell Jim?” You yell, taking Scotty’s hand as he helps you up.

“Who told you to stand under the panel?” Jim asks, beginning to walk towards the bridge.

“You could’ve given me a warning.” You counter.

“Sorry to interrupt but are you two always like this?” Scotty asks but before you can answer there’s a phaser pointed at your face.

“You’re coming with me... cupcake!” A man yells at Jim. You and Scotty give each other a look.

~~~~~~~~~~

“We are travelling at warp speed how did you get aboard the Enterprise?” Spock asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Jim replies. Spock looks to you next but you’re to busy waving at Bones. Finally his eyes land on Scotty.

“Are you a Star Fleet officer?” He asks Scotty who just nods, “How did you board this vessel.”

Scotty starts to explain but Jim cuts him off which puts him in a very awkward middle position.

“You know I don’t think I should get involved.” Scotty says, backing up. You try to hide your laughter with a cough which unfortunately makes everyone look at you.

“Hey could we get some towels?” You ask, gesturing to you and Scotty who are soaked. Bones sighs and calls someone down at the medbay to bring towels up to the bridge.

You and Scotty slowly sneak over to Bones while Spock and Jim argue. You both snatch a towel and look over in time to hear Spock give his position as acting captain up to Jim.

Spock breaths heavily as he storms off the bridge, his father following close behind. You and Scotty watch him go while Bones leaves your side to argue with Jim.

“I think it’s your turn lassy.” Scotty says, lightly pushing you to the exit. You look over at Jim who nods in understanding.

“Y/n will be my temporary first officer and her first job is to go check on Spock.” Jim says which makes Bones scoff. You turn and leave the bridge behind, going to find Spock.

~~~~~~~~~~

You find him at the transport pad, staring at the place his mother should have been transported to. His father passes you on your way in but he doesn’t say anything.

“Why are you here?” Spock asks, not turning to face you.

“I’m the temporary first officer, Jim tasked me with checking up on you.” You say, going further into the room.

“I assume we are turning around and going back to the Romulans.” Spock says, finally turning around to face you.

“Yes, we’re going to get Pike.” You reply, leaning against the wall that separates the transport pad from the transporters.

“How did you get on the Enterprise?” Spock asks.

“Scotty is a very talented man, he used some equation, and something about space being the thing that’s moving.” You try and explain. Spock nods in understanding.

“Everyone doubts Kirk, except for you.” Spock says, searching your face.

“Well Jim’s been my long time friend, I’ve learned that he’s both smart and pretty,” you say, “and we have shared life experience.”

“Yes, you both lost parents on the USS Kelvin.” Spock says blandly. You nod, frowning to yourself.

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.” You tell him. “Or if you ever want to play chess, someone told me you’re pretty good at it.”

Spock raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stop you as you turn and leave, going back to the bridge.

~~~~~~~~~~

Spock enters the bridge a few minutes after you, just in time to hear Jim’s brilliant plan on entering Nero’s ship.

“Spock, you’re my new first officer, Y/n take the con, come on Spock we’re going to Nero’s ship.” Jim says quickly, patting Spock on the shoulder as he walks by.

“After this is done, I would like to play chess with you.” Spock says as he passes by you.

“Understood Mister Spock.” You say with a hidden smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ambassador Spock.” Spock says to his alternate reality.

“Commander.” Ambassador Spock replies.

“Why did you send Kirk and Y/n when you alone could have explained everything?” Spock asks.

“Because you needed Jim and Y/n in that time and I believed in their capabilities to win this fight.” Ambassador Spock says.

“Hey Spock! And uh, Spock.” You say, walking up to the two. Ambassador Spock waves at you and you give him a smile. “We’re having a party, since we beat the Romulans. You both are invited.”

“While I do love Jim’s parties I will have to decline this offer, I need to take the remaining Vulcans to New Vulcan.” Ambassador Spock says.

“Yeah that makes sense,” you say, turning to Spock, “what about you Spock?”

“I believe we were to play a game of chess.” Spock reminds you.

“And we will play chess, but I need to make an appearance at the party or Jim will never leave me alone.” You tell him, “And you’re coming with me.”

You turn on your heel and walk away, towards the party room.

“Saying live long and prosper seems oddly self serving so I will simply say, good luck.” Ambassador Spock says to Spock.

“Good luck.” Spock returns then turns and follows you.

You link your arm with Spock’s and lead him to the party room, wanting to make your appearance quick.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You know we’re married in Ambassador Spock’s timeline.” You tell Spock, moving a chess piece.

“Ambassador Spock failed to mention that to me.” Spock says, his ears tinged green.

“Well it’s true.” You say, taking a sip of your drink.

Spock nods, moving one of his chess pieces.

“You’re turning green.” You whisper teasingly, moving one of your pieces.

“You’re turning red.” Spock retorts, thinking of his next move.

“Too much drinking.” You say, swirling the alcohol around in your glass.

“That is one logical hypothesis.” Spock responds, watching as you move a piece.

“You know I have always liked circle ice.” You say, staring into your glass. Spock looks at you with confusion, raising an eyebrow. “You know, like the ice in spheres.”

“Ah, it is aesthetically pleasing.” Spock says, moving a piece.

You take turns moving chess pieces until eventually Spock wins making you huff in frustration. You look at the bottle that was full of alcohol but is now empty and sigh, getting up and starting to clean the glasses.

Spock starts cleaning the chess pieces and chess board up while you put the dishes in the sink, leaving them for tomorrow.

“I suppose it’s time for me to take my leave.” Spock says after putting the chess board away.

“Yeah I guess so, it was nice spending time with you Spock.” You say, walking him to the door.

“I had a pleasant time as well Y/n.” Spock says, stopping at the doorway. You lean up on your tiptoes and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Have a good night Spock.” You say, settling back down onto your feet.

“Until next time, Y/n.”

#Spock #Star Trek #Star Trek 2009 #Spock Imagine #Star Trek Imagine #Spock x Reader #Star Trek x Reader #Fem!Reader #Ambassador Spock #Reader Insert #x Reader

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dylan-o-yumm · 4 years

Note

Hi how about Nero’s struggling with demonic feelings as he’s just activated his true devil trigger and he’s having sexual thoughts about being in devil trigger but he can’t do it with Kyrie because he’d rip her apart literally and he starts finding himself attracted to female devils? Just a random thought I was having lol

Warnings: Rough sex, biting, hair pulling, choking, breaking furniture, dt sex, tiniest bit of oral, fem reader, talk of cheating, but this is all consensual! Nothing about this is labeled as Nero being unfaithful to Kyrie.

Note: Look, we all know he’d never sleep with another person when he’s in a relationship with Kyrie, but for the sake of fiction… Lol (Also I haven’t written in MONTHS so this is trash, I apologise) IMPORTANT NOTE! I won’t be taking any more requests. I will go back to writing more, and you guys can always come fill my inbox with Nero thoughts or literally whatever, but I’m struggling with requests atm so I’m just gonna put that on hold for now. Thanks for understanding, lovelies.

“Look, you’re cute and all, but I’m not going to have sex with you. You’re not exactly single, Nero…” You state in a matter-of-fact tone as you enter the van after an easy and quick mission with the white haired devil hunter. A bunch of lesser demons here and there, nothing too big or scary to exhaust you of all your energy.

You’d been friends with Nero for years, going on missions with him whenever you could, meeting up on days off and hanging out with him and his beautiful soon-to-be wife. You had heard and done many odd things with him in the past, but this was definitely the weirdest thing he had ever asked of you… and most inappropriate? Mature? Sexual?

“You’re lucky I’m not going straight to Kyrie and telling her you’re an unfaithful, cheating, little—“ You begin, voice rising and getting more and more aggressive with every word. Even your eyes began to glow a bright red, getting beyond pissed off for your dear friend, the adorable little songstress. Nero had no right to ask you for sexual favours when he was meant to be in a happy relationship with her. If he wasn’t in a relationship with her though… well, that would be another story.

He was a very handsome devil, even more so after he cut his hair and… you know, grew an arm back. You even had a crush on him before you met Kyrie, following him around like a lost puppy until you quickly realised he had eyes for someone else. Eh, it happens.

“She’s okay with it! Jesus calm down…” Nero raised his voice, unable to meet your eyes as a dark red shade covered his cheeks. He was obviously nervous and embarrassed about what he had asked of you, yet here he was, still trying to convince you.

On your way back to the van only a few minutes prior, Nero was telling you how he was finding himself more and more rough and… a little over excited in the bedroom as they days went on. He was concerned for Kyrie’s safety since he feared he’d end up hurting her, and wondered if he could “let off some steam” with a demon girl such as yourself.

You knew he would end up hurting Kyrie if he kept trying to be gentle with her, all while his demonic side was screaming for more. Hell, he’d rip her apart. Sleeping with a human when you had a raging demon inside of you, desperately clawing its way out, hungry for more… it rarely ended well.

You knew what Nero needed and you guessed he had figured it out too, since he was asking you, of all people, to help him out. It just felt wrong while he was still dating Kyrie. If he left her, then you’d have no problem with it… only, he would have broken your best friends heart and therefore you’d stomp him into the ground… Okay, maybe there would be a problem with it.

“She’s okay with it? Am I meant to just believe that?” You frown, crossing your arms over your chest and waiting for Nero to stop lying.

“Yeah…? It was actually her idea.” Nero stated softly this time, scratching his nose in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but scoff and turn away from him. There was no way he was telling the truth! “Look, I know it’s weird, but you’re the only demon chick I know and actually trust. And Kyrie trusts you too, so doesn’t that count for something?” Nero continued, reaching out to you, desperately trying to get you to believe him, trust him.

That was the thing, you did trust him. So, why was it so hard for you to believe him on this?

Narrowing your eyes, Nero could tell you were still clearly suspicious.

“You wanna call her right now and see if I’m lying or not?” He waved his hand over to the phone sitting on the dash of the van, surrounded by Nico’s discarded cigarette buds.

“Yes, actually I do.”

~*~

Turns out Kyrie was okay with it. She set some rules and begged you not to sleep with Nero more than what was needed to help his demonic urges, to which you swore on your life it would never happen again without her say so. It must have been hard for the sweet, little songstress, but she seemed rather… okay with it, oddly enough. She trusted both you and Nero 100% and knew you’d both respect her wishes no matter the cost.

Which is why you were able to look down at Nero’s golden eyes and angelic blue skin as his pointed teeth sunk into the armoured flesh of your thigh. Your backside was resting atop the workbench in your garage while your clawed fingers scratch Nero’s scalp, combing through his long white hair.

The two of you thought you might as well bring things back to your place, save the van from any damage that was bound to happen from two demons fucking like wild animals. Also you knew Nico wouldn’t appreciate the stench of sex in her van… so there was that too.

The longer Nero’s sharp teeth teased your thighs and groin, the armoured plating between your legs slowly parted, opening up to reveal your slick, wet folds that were throbbing and clenching for him. You were eager to see and feel just how big he was, ready for him to fill your cunt and plow you as hard as he wanted. The thought alone made you bite your lip and inch your hips close to his face.

His eyes widened when he finally saw your heat, and you could see his cheeks reddening even when his skin was the gorgeous blue that it was. He inched forward shyly before parting his lips and letting his tongue slither along your slick, tasting your arousal. You hummed, wanting more. He growled, needing more.

“I would like for this to be a one time thing — for Kyrie’s sake, so make sure to be as rough and wild as you need to be… Satisfy all your demonic urges, handsome” Your voice was breathy and distorted, rumbling in your throat and echoing off your tongue. You continued to play with his hair, leaning back on one hand to get a better view of him between your legs, cursing yourself for already wanting this more than this one time.

He simply looked up at you with a newfound hunger in his eyes as he sunk his teeth into your thigh, breaking through the armoured skin and drawing blood. You purred, biting your lip and stifling the little smirk that threatened to pull at the corners of your mouth, watching his long, dark tongue lap at the crimson droplets.

“Should we have a safe word?” Nero wondered, his voice also distorted, sending tingles down to your core. Even now, he was still very sweet and caring, though he was licking your blood off his lips and the look in his eyes was dangerous and hungry, like a wolf staring down its prey. Your legs quivered in excitement.

“Nah. I’m stronger than you anyway, I’ll just push you away or knock you out if you go overboard” You hummed innocently, tilting your head to the side in a teasing manner. You couldn’t have him worrying or holding himself back, otherwise this would all be for nothing. He’s meant to be letting loose and satisfying the beast— or in this case, demon — within.

He scoffed and shook his head with a little ‘all right then.’

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin in your talon-like claws and forced him to look up at you. Your voice dropped to a commanding tone, serious and almost threatening as you leaned down to get closer to his face, your heated breaths making the strands of hair by his face sway back and forth. You give him the permission he needs, you demand, order him to let go.

“Go overboard.”

Nero’s eyes widen ever so slightly, his blue lips parting as he stares up at you like an innocent puppy begging to be pet. You can practically feel his heart beat thumping excitedly as you continue to hold his chin, being mindful of the cute little spikes.

“I can take it.” You whisper, nodding slowly as your eyes flutter down to his lips. You so desperately want to kiss him, but you refrain from doing so. Even though you were about to be very intimate with him, kissing him just felt too… wrong? Kyrie didn’t say she had anything against you kissing him, but he was still hers, you weren’t about to start selfishly kissing him just because you want to.

Either way, Nero doesn’t give you time to kiss him as he stands up abruptly and causes you to quickly flinch back, not wanting him to headbutt your chin on his way up. He quickly grabs your wrist before you can fall backwards, holding you steady as he slots himself between your thighs.

He smirks at you, and at first you thought it was just because he was being cocky, but as you raised an eyebrow to question him, his grip on your wrists tightened and he bought you hands up above your head, pushing you back roughly until your back slams against the workbench.

You legs instinctively come up to rest on his hips as he leans over you, the workbench being the perfect height for him to stand and fuck you while you lie down on your back. There was a slight pain in the back of your head from being slammed down, but you only purr in delight, too turned on to even care at this point.

The plating on his crotch was still hiding his cock, much to your disappointment. Meaning you had to work for it, just like he did for you.

Your hips grind and rotate against him as he leans down to bite and suck on your neck, the both of you panting and moaning as Nero’s plates slowly open up.

Your hands explore his back, tangling up his Rapunzel-like hair as your fingers dip over every curve and bump of his muscles. His body moving against yours as he grinds against your wet heat is addictive, his chest and stomach brushing up against your torso, as if teasing you that he isn’t yours.

But you’re okay with that.

Finally feeling his cock rutting against your sopping cunt and not the hard plating that shielded him away from you, you shiver in delight and bite your lip. Looking down, you see what you had been waiting for. His fully erect, thick, veiny cock, leaking precum and dribbling onto your plated stomach.

“Shit…” You cuss as your eyes widen at the sight of him, practically drooling.

“Don’t go runnin’ scared now” Nero smirks cockily as he looks down at himself then back up at you through his pretty eyelashes.

Your eyes meet his as you can only scoff, playfully shoving him away but just as quickly pulling him back to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, you bite his ear harshly, earning a pleased shiver from the devil hovering over you.

“You gonna stand there all day talking about your dick, or are you gonna put it to good use?” You tease, purring into his ear after licking where you bit.

When he doesn’t speak or move, you wonder if you had offended him, placing your clawed hands on the sides of his face to get him to look at you. Though, when you expect to see him pouting or frowning, you’re taken aback when you see his lips curled upward and his sharp teeth shining at you. You open your mouth to question him, but get cut off abruptly by your own scream of pain, pleasure and surprise.

“Hnng—holy fuck! Give a girl some warning next time, asshole!” You screech as his cock rests comfortably inside your velvety walls. He had pushed himself all the way in to the hilt in one swift motion, giving you no chance to adjust to his thickness, but to be completely honest, his roughness only turned you on all the more.

“Still don’t want a safe word, you little baby?” He mocks, teasing you by not moving his hips an inch. All you could feel was his hard member throbbing excitedly against your slick walls, making you whine out, desperate for him to give it to you good and hard.

You shake your head, managing to smirk back at him as your hands move up to the back of his head, tangling in his white hair and pulling him down so you can latch your lips onto his neck. Biting, licking, kissing, pleading with your actions for him to please fucking move.

He seems to get the hint.

His hand suddenly worms its way between your lips and his neck, cupping your mouth as he parts himself from you. He keeps his hand there for a moment, leaning back to stare down at your awaiting body before he slowly drags it down to your neck. Wrapping his fingers delicately around your throat, claws digging into the back of your neck but he doesn’t squeeze or press down.

His long tongue snakes over his pointed teeth, that same cocky grin on his lips as he finally draws his hips back and slams forward as fast and hard as he can. Not giving you a second to adjust or brace yourself as he repeats the action over and over and over again.

“Oh, my fucking— ah!” You gasp and yelp, eyes squeezing shut. The pain subsided quickly as the tip of his cock brushed against the spongy spot within your walls, causing a whole slur of cusses and moans to spill past your lips as you claw and scratch at his armoured back.

“Fuckin’ tight” He growls, claws digging into you, eyes darkening and his movements growing harsher and harsher by the second.

You last about ten thrusts before you feel the workbench wobbling a bit too much for you liking, lurching back and forth in time with his thrusts. Your mind is a bit too focused on his thick cock nicely massaging your insides to even worry about potentially breaking the bench, though when you hear a crack sound from underneath you, your moans come to an abrupt stop.

Nero’s eyes are shining a dark red, much different to his angelic golden orbs that you’re used to seeing. He’s clearly giving in to his demonic urges like you wanted, only…

“Uh… Nero—“ You’re cut off when the bench suddenly cracks even louder and you’re suddenly falling to the floor. The wooden bench crumbles in pieces, the legs caving in and folding at an awkward angle as it finds its new home on the floor of your garage.

You wonder why your back hasn’t hit the floor yet, still waiting for the impact. Though when your focus pulls back to Nero — who hadn’t stopped fucking you — you are surprised to see two angelic, blue wings curled around to support your weight. Much softer than you imagined, cozy and warm like a nice blanket for you to cuddle into while you have your guts rearranged.

Your eyes roll back as you focus back on Nero completely, your hands coming down to grip at his forearms. You have no idea how the workbench breaking managed to take your mind off of what he is doing to you because, damn does he know how to put his hips to good use.

“You’re still holding back… I can tell” You whimper. While he was pleasing you very nicely, you had to remember why you were here with him.

He responds with a dark growl that shakes your entire body, even feeling it rumble deep within your chest. You gasp as he suddenly has you up right, slamming your back into the drywall and moving his wings to shelter you in. His hands grip your ass tightly, squeezing your cheeks as best he can while the plating protects your body.

“Better?” He growls, his voice somehow deeper and scarier, though the fact that he’s slowly letting loose and giving you his all has you dripping your arousal all over his cock and onto the floor.

You nod frantically as your eyes roll to the back of your head again, the new angle somehow letting him reach places you didn’t even know were possible to reach. The textured plating on his lower stomach brushed against your swollen clit from this angle, stimulating you everywhere you needed to be stimulated.

It suddenly dawned on you why you were here right now. There is no way Kyrie would ever survive this. This was far too dangerous for a human. The tip of his cock would be right up at your throat if he fucked you like this in your human form. You’d be split into two.

He effortlessly picked you up and dropped you back down onto his cock, all while thrusting up into you at the same time. Your moans turned into screams and you wouldn’t be surprised if someone came knocking on your door, asking if you were okay. Obviously, you were more than okay.

You hear a crunch beside your head, turning ever so slightly when Nero cusses under his breath to see his ethereal wing had crashed through the wall in his excitement. Flakes of white drywall fall onto his feet as he pries his wing out, sadly making an even bigger hole in the process.

You want to make a comment about him paying for the things he’s broken, but your words die on your tongue as you grip his shoulder tightly. He holds you down on his leaking cock as he brings you to the floor, sitting on his knees before setting you down.

“You keep squeezin’ my dick like that,’m not gonna last much longer” Nero snaps, almost sounding angry at you as he flips you over onto your stomach effortlessly. You hadn’t even noticed how your walls were acting to him, but now that you were aware of it, they were continuously clamping down around him and sucking him in deeper, trying to keep him trapped within your slick.

“Stop whining and fuck me, asshole” You huff back.

“My pleasure.” He purrs before gripping your hip with one hand, digging his talons into the softer part of your skin and scratching you up. The marks healed quickly, but he continued to tear into you, whether on purpose or not, you didn’t quite care. His other hand went to your hair, pushing your head down so your ass was up for him and your cheek was pressed against the cool cement of your garage floor.

Nero props his right foot up beside your ribs while the left lies flat on the floor, his knee supporting half of his weight, and his right foot supporting the other half. From this position, he easily grips your hips and fucks into you at a brutal pace, giving you no time to brace yourself.

His hips smack against yours loudly, causing you to lurch forward with each hit, but thankfully his large hands move you right back to his cock, keeping you nice and full. The stretch had you crying out, feeling his thickness split you open with every pass, all his veins rubbing against your tightness…

Your eyes roll back yet again and your tongue flops out of your mouth as you take everything he’s giving to you. You can’t help but smile dumbly, completely fucked out and you hadn’t even cum yet.

“S-so good…Keep g-going!” You moan, digging your palms into the floor and pushing yourself back onto him as best you can. The noises he makes in return are completely arousing, if you weren’t already dripping on his cock, you’d be soaking through your panties for sure.

He pistons inside you at a great speed, using all his demonic strength to please you and himself. Poor little Kyrie is missing out, you shamefully think to yourself. Your hips start to hurt after a while, the constant slamming of his against your own creating a dull ache. Nothing you can’t handle, you honestly loved it.

“I’m cl—oooh!” You moan as he shifts his hips ever so slightly so his cock hits your sweet spot over and over and over. You don’t bother trying to speak again, figuring he got the hint as he somehow sped up even faster.

Another minute passes and you’re a whimpering, moaning mess. Drool oozes out of your mouth and glides down your cheek while you struggle to even keep your eyes open as you dance on the edge of your orgasm.

Your thighs shake intensely as you cry out, tears pooling in your eyes as your claws scratch and permanently dent the floor. Your walls spasm around Nero’s cock as your climax washes over you, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming too loud, but it doesn’t stop you from whining as loud as possible, almost sobbing as the pleasure begins to be too much.

Nero grunts and groans as he continues to fuck you roughly, snapping his hips against yours a few more times before his movements stutter and he’s moaning loudly up at the ceiling. You squeak from overstimulation as you feel his cock twitch excitedly inside you before a warm, sticky fluid is coating your inner walls and filling you up nicely.

Nero whimpers as he pulls out of you and collapses onto the floor beside you, while you continue to hold your ass in the air and let the cold air cool the heat between your legs. You stay like that for a moment, before letting yourself shift back to your human form, a bright, golden light shining in the garage before you’re laying there, no longer armoured or demonic looking.

Perks of devil triggering before sex? No need to get dressed. Your clothes were back on your body in an instant.

Rolling over onto your back, you pant heavily as you stare up at the ceiling. Covered in sweat, hair sticking to your forehead, thighs and groin burning, and a dull ache throbbed within your walls. Your pussy clenched around nothing, causing cum to dribble out of you and stain the floor. Perfect, you thought. You couldn’t help but grin as your mind stayed in its own little daze from the brutal, but delicious, fucking you just received.

Nero pants heavily as well, his body shining a gorgeous blue before he is back to his human form, laying beside you, also staring up at the boring ceiling. His legs felt like jelly, but other than that, he had this oddly calm and relaxed feeling deep inside him. It was like his demonic side had been completely satisfied and decided to go to sleep for a while.

He sighs with a smile, a sign that he’s relaxed and this whole… thing, seemed to work out. You turn your head to the side to look at him, beginning to chuckle softly, just at the sheer randomness of this whole situation. Nero starts to chuckle too until both your soft laughter is all that can be heard in the small garage.

“I hope you can make love to your fiancé without almost killing her now.” Reaching over, you pat his chest three times before forcing yourself to sit up, ready to go back to your normal life and go to cook dinner for yourself.

#Omg I'm back??#Nero x reader #nero #nero dmc #dmc #devil may cry

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crimsonskies1124 · 4 years

Text

My Lovely Human Chapter 2: Beloved

A sigh of contentment was breathed out of the Naga's mouth as he held his beloved in his arms. Risotto moves rather quickly to his large spacious den in excitement, the thought of spending his life with his beloved filled him with desire. The inside of his den is much bigger than an average Naga's den. It was nice and wide and had a big bed made of fur that he collected himself when he goes out to hunt. There was bones and skulls laying around inside the den as well but most of them were near the front entrance of his den for mainly decoration. He appreciate the aesthetic of skulls, enjoying the feel of the dark sockets and bony structure.

Risotto gently places (Y/N) on the king's size bed and drinks up in her beauty. No one was as beautiful as she was. So small, so docile, so kind. He loved her hair, big eyes, round face, and plump lips. How he loved to have her lips around him. His blood red eyes trail down her body, she didn't have the biggest breast but not the smallest either. He wasn't too fussy about that. Risotto places his large hand on her flat stomach and thought how beautiful she be with her stomach all round and swollen with his babies. He gripped her wide hips that are perfect for bearing his children. Risotto growled, his tail swishes excitedly and grips harder until she lets out a small whimper and stops.

"Grr...not yet.." He loosens his hold of her and composes himself. Risotto slithers out of his den and picks up the skull holding it in his hands. The skull was so small in his grip, he moves his long fingers against the rough cheek bones and wondered how soft her face would feel if he caress them. As he was deep in thought from this a voice called out to him, a voice he knew to well.

"Risotto! Where the fuck have you been!?" An angry blonde rushes to him, his hair was tied neatly in braids, icy blue eyes and wore a couple accessories around his neck that were out of gold , especially his long necklace. His scales were dark purple with white streaks that gave a web like design.

"Prosciutto. Lower your voice. You'll wake her up." He grunted and glanced at her. "I told you I was taking care of some troublesome hunters." He placed his skull back down.

"Wha!? Her?" He squinted his eyes and looks over his shoulder to see a young small human sleeping on his bed, a bed that was far too big for her. "Is..Don't tell me that's a human in your den."

Risotto nodded at his question. "Are you fucking kidding me! You know as well as I do how dangerous humans are! Why do you have it here?"

He crossed his arms displeased. "Don't call my beloved an it. She's...different from other humans. She's not like the others."

Prosciutto looks at him with disbelief. Don't tell me that thing is suppose to be his mate? He sighed placing two of his fingers on the bridge of his nose sighing. He opens his mouth about to speak once more until he saw the younger Naga Illuso who is a teenager.

"Capo! You're finally back!" He grins holding a spear in his hand and a bag of fish. "You were gone for a really long time." His hair brown long hair were tied in low braids and had eyes as red as Risotto but it looked like there was more life in his eyes than Risotto. His scales were more bland than the other nagas. His didn't glow as brightly as the others and was a simple beige color.

He nodded. "I just got back today. I was about to head into the village . Come Proscuitto we have matters to discuss with others."

The blonde looks back at the den. He grumbled a bit. It will have to a matter he will have to discuss later with keeping a human in his den. He watches Illuso go back home probably to Formaggio about the amount of fish he got.

Both He and Risotto made their way down to the village where the rest of their kind lived. They were a isolated species that has closed themselves off to the rest of the world due to the confliction with humans eons ago. They did not have a very big population either, in fact their species had one of the lowest numbers in population of this forest.

As they both make their way to the headquarters a lot of Nagas bowed and greeted Risotto with respect and a lot of Nagi saw Risotto and followed him and three of them linked arms with him. "Nero! You finally came back." One spoke out and giggled. the second spoke out next. "Nero do you have time for us please? You been gone for so long." The third agreed and rubs her head against his chest.

Risotto pulls away without looking at them. "I don't have time for this. I have important matters to attend to." He could hear them whining and hearing how much they missed him. He knew how desperate those nagi were.

"Popular as ever capo." A naga with with long blonde choppy hair that covered one eye grins at him. " Shame those cute nagi are perfect candidates for an heir." He licked his lips from the thought . His scales were black with purple circle patterns on it.

Risotto sighed . "Maybe you should spend time with them instead Melone."

Melone lets out a small laugh. "Oh they simply won't do my dear capo! I want the mother of my children to be perfect." Not any nagi would do for him, he had high expectations. He follows both Proscuitto and Risotto in and yelling could be heard. " Ahh..looks like he got Ghiaccio all fired up again." Letting out a small hissing sound at the end of his sentence.

The room was in a disarray , there was milk on the walls and eggs were cracked open on the floor and two nagas fighting. "That's enough. You two clean this mess right now." Risotto speaks in a commanding voice.

"But it's Formaggio ! He started it first!" A loud booming voice was spoken by a male with curly blue hair and red glasses.

"I don't care. Both of you clean this up now." He glares at the both .

"R-Right! c'mon let's just clean it before he gets more mad." The male with a buzzcut hairstyle went to grab the the cleaning supplies and Ghiaccio clicked his tongue against his fangs and went to help clean up the place.

Once the two nagas cleaned up the place to how it was suppose to look before. They could start discussing the meeting . "You sure took your time coming back. Gone for 5 days. You're never gone for that long Capo." Melone spoke.

"Yeah that's true." Formaggio agreed. "

Prosciutto nodded. "Mind telling us what took you so long when you should have been hours later on the same day not 5 days."

Risotto sighed and nodded.

5 days ago

Risotto took it upon himself to take out the hunters that are in their territory and he could not risk the humans finding out about their species again. Humans were ugly disgusting greedy creatures that killed nagas out of fear and take their skin to make purses and take their fangs for profit that was what he thought before he met her, the love of his life.

Risotto had spotted one human that was rather close to the village. Something he must not allow to happen. The hunter was a young male who was smoking a cig. Risotto cringed in disgust. He would do not be a good meal at all. He moves from behind without making a sound and bites his shoulder and the hunter lets out a scream as the vemon was injected into his body and within moments the hunter was gasping for air and was coughing and hacking as he felt so much pain and his heart was pumping faster and faster as the vemon spread throughout the body until his heart couldn't keep up and stopped and didn't see his body move anymore. Risotto had a expressionless face as he watched the hunter perished before leaving him there.

"Wait! We shouldn't kill it! Aren't you suppose to preserve wild life?" A young woman spoke to a hunter and it was none other than (Y/N) who was trying to stop a hunter from killing a garden snake.

A hunter who looked like he was in his 30's looked at her and chuckled . "what gives little missy . We are preserving life . Our life and that's all that should matter. Now give him back. His skin would do good for a purse. Wouldn't you like that? All girls your age fancy those." Risotto hissed and glared at the hunter in disgust, oh how he wanted to end him right then are there.

(Y/N) shook her head holding he garden snake her hands as it wrapped itself around his arm. "The hunter's association is suppose to preserve all life. Even this little guy." She smiles and pets the little snake head.

The hunter looks at her in disgust. "Ugh! Whatever I'll be off . Stay away from the others they are dangerous!" He grabs his belongings and head off to the west side of the forest.

(Y/N) sighs. "They're all the same. " She gently puts the garden snake down . "There now run along now little guy before they find you again." She smiled as she watch the snake return to the wild. She hated how they abuse the system and killed any animal that had nothing to do with them or that they were a threat when they weren't. "Hm? Is someone there?"

Risotto quickly hid from her sight. He was always a master at stealth it was one of his abilities as a naga.

"Hmm..I guess I imagined it . I better get going." She turned her back towards him and headed back into town.

Risotto watches her leave the forest. So there were kind humans too. Humans were ugly and odd looking but she looked so beautiful , her beauty could even rival a goddesses. It was at that moment he had to have her and had taken care of the hunters while he slowly learned more about her. Watching her. Stalking her for those 5 days until that storm took him by surprise and by then it was too late for him to get back to his own village until she saved him too like that harmless garden snake.

Present Day

" That's the reason I was gone for so long . If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be alive." He clasped his hands together and the rest of the naga looked at him like he was crazy.

"A human!? A human of all things saved you!?" Ghiacco flailed his arms in disbelief . Risotto nodded

Melone had a playful grin on his face while formaggio still had a hard time processing this on how and why would Risotto would want to bring a human . Maybe as a pet or food he thought.

Prosciutto crosses his arms. "I don't agree with you bringing a human here. You're placing us in danger like this. But you are the alpha so I'll back off for now." He turns away not fully accepting it. "The minute the human opposes a threat it will die whether you like it or not Risotto."

Risotto nodded fully understanding this. Though he would make sure no harm comes to her not even his closet allies. "You're all dismissed."

(Y/N) groans a bit in her sleep and slowly opens her eyes as her vision slowly clears up. "Nnn.." She pressed her head against the pillows of the bed. It was the comfiest bed she ever laid on. Her vision finally clears up and looks up at the ceiling which was just the cave. "W-Where..? Where am I?" Her eyes widened after realizing that she was not home. She sat up and moves her head around and could see bones scattered on the floor.

"You're awake."

(Y/N) eyes widened and saw the giant serpent and her memory finally clears up . "Ahh!! Y-You! You're that Naga!" She backs up as much as possible on the bed.

"My name is Risotto, beloved." He moves closer to her which causes her to move back more until her back hits the wall.

"W-Where am I?" She started to shiver, her mind was still a bit fuzzy after being squeezed the life out of her earlier. She only remembers bits and pieces of it and was hoping that this was just a nightmare.

"You're in my den, away from human civilization." his tail wraps around her small wrist pulling her close to him making her gasp and wraps his arms around her placing her in his lap. He loved how small she was compared to him .

(Y/N) struggled in his grasp . His tail and scales felt cold and it scared her how easily he can pull her in . "What? Why! " She shook a bit, scared how far away she was from everyone else.

Risotto placed his hand under his chin and tilted up so she was looking up at him . "You're too good for them. Too pure hearted to live with those greedy humans. I mustn't let that happen. not to my mate." He leans forward and kisses her gently. Her lips were so soft and warm . It caught her by surprise and pulls away and Risotto just moves again to kiss her once more.

"W-Wai- mmph! Risotto St-" He kissed her once more and holds the back of her head and kisses much more deeper. She places her hands on his shoulders to try and push him off but couldn't he was so much stronger than she was. He brushes her tongue with his long forked tongue trying to get it in her mouth but closes her mouth and he growls and pushes her on the bed earning a gasp and kisses her once more before she had the chance to close her mouth and his tongue enters her mouth and explores her warm cavern it felt so good. he wrapped his tongue around hers . (Y/N) tightly closed her eyes squirming under his body as their tongues battle in dominance. He unwrapped his tongue around her and pushed his tongue down her throat which caused her squirm even more . His tail wrapped around her hips keeping her still and heard a small moan and deep throat her tongue and could feel himself being turned on more, more so than he has during mating season. He slowly pulled away watching her gasp for air.

#risotto nero #risotto x reader #jjba risotto #fanfic #story #jojo bizarre adventure #Jojo Part 5 #JoJo no Kimyō na Bōken

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chrysalispen · 4 years

Text

Prompt #7 - Nonagenarian

AO3 Link HERE

=====

"Where are you going, Nonna?"

Vita bas Laevinus smiled at the eager and upturned face of her young grandson - followed the sharp track of a pale blue gaze half-concealed beneath a forest of pale gold curls - and bent her attention back to lacing up her pattens.

"Into the woods, dear," she said, "to prepare for tonight's dinner."

"By yourself?"

"And who else would be coming along? Your sisters are still at the schoolhouse and you've your chores to finish."

"Father says women and children mustn't go into the forest alone. There are monsters." The child shifted uneasily from foot to foot, as if he had something to say and not yet enough wherewithal nor courage to say it. "My chores are done, so I'll come with you, Nonna."

"Will you?"

"Someone has to protect you from the monsters."

"That's very brave," she said. "You don't even yet know why I'm going."

"...Are you gathering kindling for the hearthfire? Wait, but no- we have plenty of wood." His little brow knitted, a tiny line indexed from third eye to brow, before a sunny, triumphant smile replaced it. "It would be... would be gratuitous."

With a laugh she reached for the worn wicker basket hanging on the hook next to her shawl.

"Goodness, child, am I to be subjected to yet another of your large words?"

"I read it in one of Octavia's fairy tale books," he said, with an air of practiced indifference. "It means 'unnecessary'."

"Does it?"

"I can spell it, too. Want to hear?"

He was already rattling the letters off, swift and precise, before she could acquiesce. Five going on ninety, Vita thought with no small degree of amusement. The boy had mastered his letters before he was out of diapers and had feverishly consumed the contents of every book he'd laid hand upon since.

Vita ruffled his wild wind-tossed hair. "I'm going mushroom-picking," she said. "You can tell me some more of your words on the road. And if you watch and listen as well as you talk, you'll learn how to find the best caps for eating."

His eyes lit up.

"An adventure!"

"An adventure," she agreed, smiling.

~*~

Three winters passed and Vita was six and eighty.

Three winters had passed since her youngest daughter's death - since she'd come to live with her son-in-law and help care for the children - and she was starting to feel every turn of the seasons deep in her bones. Winter had lingered this year, and her difficulties remained even with the arrival of the warm months.

Safely unseen, watching from the window over her cookstove, Vita uncurled her aching fingers with the unhurried and experimental hesitancy borne of long experience with chronic pain. Her hands didn't hurt half as much as her poor hips; more often the chill left her too lame to forage in the wood alone for fear of falling. But she suspected it would not be so very long before she would be unable to cook the family meals without aid.

She was starting to slow down for good. It was only to be expected. Happened to everyone eventually, she supposed. Even if she worried what would become of them after she was gone, whenever that might be.

At least I have a willing and eager young assistant, she told herself, glancing at the boy dutifully slicing a small block of cheese. And that was true enough; her grandson's early promise seemed only to blossom with each passing day, his fine and agile mind paired with a penchant for observation.

Although she wished he would make some friends his own age.

"Don't you want to go play with the other boys, Nero? It's a nice day and everyone else is outside."

"I can't. Father wants me to help him plant the north field, so I'm not to play today." Wiry shoulders lifted and dropped in a single abrupt and listless motion. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to associate with them."

"Whyever not?"

"...Because they're envious of me," he said, in as flat and factual a manner as she would have expected to hear had he informed her the sky was blue. He rolled up the sleeves of his secondhand dalmatica, faded and oversized, bulky in the waist but already too short in the arms; it was tight about those shoulders, knobby but broad. "Nonna, can you show me how to make your pasta?"

The boy's voice was curiously brisk. Vita's brows arched upwards in a silent question, but the calm and shuttered expression he wore told her she'd get naught else of importance out of him.

At just eight summers he was already learning how to hide himself from the world. She sighed.

"Yes. But not before you wash your hands."

"I know." He was already reaching for the water bucket.

Her gaze sharpened at the sight of his forearms. They were mottled with fingerprint bruises, the marks made by hands much larger than any of his classmates. But before she could remark upon it, his arms dropped to his sides and the voluminous sleeves hid them from sight as he turned away and made a quick exit.

The old door latched shut at his back, and like an errant cloud crossing the path of the sun, Vita's smile faded. ~*~

"He's not taking any bleeding test and that's final." "What? Of course he'll take the placement test. Why wouldn't he?"

"There's no point. He's not going to any blimmin' Academy, either. Long past time he got his head out of the clouds and learned his place in the world." Atticus bas Sceava was well on his way into another stupor. The unlovely paired scents of sweat and stale gin hung around his haggard features like an invisible cloud, his bloodshot grey eyes squinting at her out of sallow sockets. "Anyroad, I need him for the harvest. Eleven summers is plenty old enough for him to start properly earning his keep."

"We can hire extra hands for the harvest if that's what it takes, Atticus."

"Thresher's broken. And I've not the money to hire extra hands, let alone send the boy to some high-priced school in the capitol. He belongs on the land-"

Vita's lips tightened.

"He belongs wherever he wishes to go. If his future is elsewhere then I'll do what needs must to help him find his path."

Her son-in-law drew himself to his full seven fulms of height, looming over the worn surface of the table. She tensed but held her ground; the drink always turned his temper sour but he had always stopped well short of raising a hand against her. "Old woman," he growled, "mind your place and stay out of my affairs. I am the head of this household. You have no right-"

"They are my grandchildren! I have every right."

His teeth bared, like the hackles of a rabid dog.

"You'll hold your tongue if you like it in your head. You've always encouraged him in these fool notions about his tinkering. He's had plenty of book learning -- more than any of his sisters -- and now it's time he learned how to be a man and help run the farm." A petulant sort of animal cunning twisted at his lips. "Besides, there's no one on either side of the mountain knows how to fix a thresher of that make and model. He'll be staying whether he likes it or not."

Vita's expression remained carefully impassive, but as Atticus slumped back into his chair and reached for his bottle, all she could think about was the way her grandson's eyes came alight every time he could do what he loved- and the shuttered coldness in them when he couldn't.

We'll see about that, Atticus, she thought, hobbling away, ignoring the grinding ache from shoulder to wrist as she leaned upon her cane. We'll see about that.

~*~

"Father wasn't awake to see us leave, was he?"

"No, dear."

"Good," Nero said forcefully. His long legs kicked to and fro and his sharp eyes were fixed upon the timepiece overhead.

It was a warm morning, this day of her ninetieth summer: very still and humid, and Vita and her grandson sat alone on the small platform to wait. In this remote part of the province, the train that eventually ran on a route into the heart of the imperial capitol came only once a day.

She studied him, a boy with an intellect too large for his still-growing body. The clothes he wore were ill-fitting - more secondhand items from his sisters, worn and patched where the threads had run bare, too narrow in the back, too short in the arms and legs - but the texts in his lap were new, a farewell gift from the mayor who had acted as his patron when his acceptance letter had arrived from the Imperial Magitek Academy.

"You have your iden... your card."

"My identification card, yes."

"And your train pass."

"I've checked twice now."

"Mind you pay attention to your route. I've heard they have soldiers on these trains that will be very rough if you try to get back on the train once you're off." She fidgeted nervously with the embroidery in her lap. "Do you have your lunch box?"

"It's right here."

He patted the package that sat alongside the big leather bag holding all of his personal belongings, securely wrapped in plain hempen cloth, his initials sewn into the corner. Vita's smile was sad.

"The very last meal we cooked together before you went away to your new school," she said. "Think of your poor Nonna when you eat it."

"I will."

"And mind you write often. I want to hear all about the city."

"...Nonna?"

"What is it, dear?"

"You needn't worry for me. It's an adventure," he said. "Right?"

For just a moment she saw something of the boy he'd once been, for the first time in years. Worry lingered there in the tilt of his mouth, perhaps. Bitterness. Or the anxiety that ever came upon the cusp of the unknown- and then like a passing cloud, it was gone and he was grinning at her: mouth stretched wide and exuberant, pale blue eyes twin stars.

It would be more difficult without his hands to help at the farm, but it was the right thing, she understood: to let him go his own way.

"One of many," she said, smiling at last.

#ffxivwrite2020 #prompt 7: nonagenarian #nero tol scaeva

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tilbageidanmark · 3 years

Photo

Movies I watched this week - 20

The Unexpected Find of the Week: First King (Il primo re).

A uniquely brutal, “authentic” retelling of twin brothers Romulus & Remus myth, shot with minimal dialogue in paleo Latin, as it was spoken in 753 BC. How the mythical power of fear in primitive cultures shaped who we are today.

(Recommended by AlonzoMosleyFBI)

✴️

Why were you so unpopular with the Chicago police department?

Because Charles Grodin died (Hard to imagine that he was 86!), I tried to watch his old ‘Seems Like Old Times’, but had to stop after 10 long, cringey minutes. Instead, I just went back to my all-time favorite his and De Nero flick, Midnight Run. Every time I remember any of the many quotable situations from this funny, delightful film, I have to go and watch it again: It’s literally a perfect movie for me. (As I wrote about it here).

✴️

The emotionally powerful Coco, which Adora and I watched many times together, still one of my favorite Pixar’s about family and memories. The widescreen compositions are exceptionally radiant & colorful.

(Photo above).

✴️

4 more by Anders Thomas Jensen, whose range of story-telling skills keeps astonishing me:

✳️✳️✳️ After the Wedding (2006) - Another tortured-looking Mads Mikkelsen, this time as an ex-patriot manager of a small Indian orphanage. Here he re-visits Denmark to secure a large donation promised by a rich benefactor, and things do not end up as they start.

Intense and sensitive, with many quiet close-ups, mostly on everybody’s eyes.

Best film of the week!

(Like many other great Danish movies, this was re-made in ‘American’ in 2019 with Julianne Moore - “because it’s too difficult for Americans to read subtitles” (?) - and I tried to watch it too, but I had to turn it off after less than 10 minutes: it was just a jarring, fake copy.)

✳️✳️✳️ "The Revenge" (Hævnen) another drama written by Anders Thomas Jensen and directed by Susanne Bier. 2011 Oscar winner, about violence, retribution and ange. A story of a 12 year old boy who is bullied in school and meet another boy with a chip on his shoulder. 7/10.

✳️✳️✳️ Fear me not, with a manuscript by ATJ, was the least accomplished of all the films of his that I saw. It’s about the growing psychosis of a depressed man who, as part of a clinical test, takes experimental pills with unfortunate side effects. What was missing is ATJ’s usual humanity shining through from the characters.

✳️✳️✳️ On the other hand, I don’t know why I am so drawn to keep watching his layered Riders of Justice (for the 4th time this month!), but the detailed style of the story is so compelling, so sweetly funny and moving, that even the over-the-top violence is completely acceptable.

✴️

Yesterday I took 15 kilometer bike ride around the island of Amager. Later in the evening I watched 5 hours of the Danish police procedural series “The Investigation“. I was delighted to see that many of the exteriors were shot exactly on the Svenskeholm coast where I just biked!

It’s a VERY slow burn, understated and moody Scandi-noir, with constant and quiet cello background. Didn’t realize it was based on real events. So un-American, without any glitz or melodrama. Second film with Rolf Lassgård in the same week.

✴️

I enjoy watching big Danish actor Nicolas Bro very much, but Small Killers from Nibe is a terrible black-comedy, a copy of ATJ’s style but without his charm and humanistic depth. 2/10

✴️

First watch: I actually never saw Leni Riefenstahl’s complete Triumph of the Will before! What a masterful propaganda film! Wach Auf!

Trump - and the Nazis of Charlottesville - must have watched this one many times.

This was prompt by travel-guru Rick Steves’ short Germany’s Fascist Story. It’s interesting how he’s been turning recently from geography to history.

✴️

Jimmy Carter: Rock & Roll President, the only ‘decent’ American president before Obama, and his friendship with like-minded musicians, Willie Nelson, the Allman Brothers, Bob Dylan, etc. Lovely!

✴️

The Human Voice - A Pedro Almodóvar Jean Cocteau-inspired short: Tilda Swinton alone in a gilded apartment saying goodbye on the phone to her lover, who is about to marry someone else. Theatrical, cerebral, affected.

✴️

2 by British director Mike Hodges:

✳️✳️✳️ Get Carter - Young Michael Caine, suave, cool as a cucumber, is a gangster returning to Newcastle to attend the funeral of his brother there.

✳️✳️✳️ Clive Owens breakthrough role, Croupier. A struggling writer takes a job in a seedy casino. The 3rd-person interior monologues didn’t work for me

A wave of elation came over him; he was hooked again... watching people lose.

✴️

I disliked The Lobster, an artsy, absurdist dystopian fable with a convoluted premise of forced couplehood. Single people are rounded up at a hotel resort and are given 45 days to find romantic partners or otherwise be turned into animals.

The very first scene told me everything I needed to know about what followed: The camera focuses on a profile of a woman, driving for a while in the rain, then she stops by a field, gets out of the car, and shoots a donkey. 3/10

✴️

Unstoppable, another “Runaway Train” themed movie, with Denzel Washington: Tony Scott’s last film before he jumped off the San Pedro bridge in 2012.

Action, Action, Action and large, heavy and noisy machinery.

✴️

The One I love, Elisabeth Moss and her husband are visiting a romantic resort in order to save their troubled marriage, where they discover two doppelgängers of themselves: A muddled up & confused story that makes no sense or evoke much empathy.

- - - - -

Throw-back to the art project:

Adora with Mama Coco.

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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sethrine-writes · 4 years

Text

Devil-sitter May Cry, Ch. 5

Pairing: Dante x F!Reader, Vergil x F!Reader (Undecided)

Words: 1415

Warning: Foreshadowing

Story Summary: Low on cash and desperate for a job, you reply to a flyer for a babysitting position. Little did you know that the opportunity to watch over two special boys would bring your life so much mayhem and adventure…and, perhaps, a chance at a family of your own.

A/N: More plot motivation and exposition in this chapter. The boys are mentioned, but don’t really show up. I hope you guys enjoy it, all the same!

------

Chapter 5 - Naomi

The café wasn't terribly busy, but there were enough patrons within to create a comfortable, humming atmosphere of friendly chatter and quiet, clinking dishware. It was the perfect place to finally meet up with your dear friend, Naomi, whom you hadn't had the chance of seeing in far too long.

Usually, you both planned little friend dates at least a couple times a month, little lunches that bled into the late afternoon as you talked each other's ears off about the happenings since the last get-together. With you being tight on funds and looking for a job, however, and with Naomi being busy with her own line of work, it had been hard to make the time for that much-needed visit.

Hopefully, you would be able to have such lunches as often as before real soon. It was a promising sign, being able to treat the both of you to a late brunch after your first official payment from your new babysitting job - having already taken care of your rent, of course.

"The cat was a demon?!"

And from Naomi's guffawed tone, it was clear she was enjoying her time with you just as much as you were enjoying her company.

You were quick to shush her loud outburst, giggling quietly with flustered amusement as she made to press her hand against her grinning mouth. If any other patrons in the café had overheard or were disturbed by the muffled ruckus the two of you were creating, no one said anything.

After a moment, Naomi removed her hand, red painted lips pressed into a thin line as she attempted to hold back her own amusement. She failed, unfortunately, and her hushed whispers were filled with giddy excitement.

She always did get a kick out of your storytelling, even if she did think you were just spicing it up with your "make-believe."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I just….I can hardly imagine-"

"See, this is why I don't tell you all my stories," you mused, earning a playfully affronted gasp from the woman sitting across from you.

"I like to think you tell me everything," she countered, eyeing you up with those bright green eyes of hers. "Well, almost everything, at least. One can't have all their cards laid out at all times."

"You definitely get the brunt of all my mediocrity," you lamented with a sigh, earning a playful swat to your arm.

"Oh, hush, now! There's hardly anything mediocre about you," she crooned. "Why, you may be the most interesting person I've had the pleasure to befriend."

"Oh, wow, you're right. When you put it that way, your life must be so much more boring than mine."

That got another set of giggles and another playful swat towards you, one you dodged with a grin. You took that moment to take a sip of your tea, still hot enough for you to be cautious.

"So, tell me more," she urged, adjusting the dark fringe of her bangs to one side with the swipe of her elegant fingers, "you mentioned just finishing your first week, correct?"

Naomi was quite eager to hear more about your new job, it seemed, feeding off your own excitement and contentment with the arrangement you had found yourself in.

In your three years of knowing her, she had always been that way, so attentive to the things you wanted to share with her. Even from the first day you met her in that lovely florist shop two towns over, the one she currently owned but was only a supervisor of three years ago, Naomi had been so attuned to your words.

Through the pleasantries and the initial conversation about flowers and appropriate bouquets for a wedding party you were attending, you found yourself talking avidly with her about so many things. Your little visit had turned into nearly two hours of talk and laughter, and a friendship quickly blossomed - pun highly intended. She had quickly become your dearest friend, one whose opinions and insight you cherished deeply.

Through good times, through bad times, Naomi never failed to be there to help you through them, and for that, you were grateful. You could never thank her enough for everything she had done and helped you through, though she insisted time and again that just having you as a friend was more than enough.

"Yeah, first week's in the clear," you answered, fingers absentmindedly playing with the pendant about your neck as you recounted your first week babysitting the children of the Sparda twins.

Nero and V were wonderful little boys, just as you had thought they would be. They played well, bickered a healthy amount, and had such wild, vivid imaginations that you were constantly in awe of the things they could think up. They were also extremely curious about so many things, and after having warmed up to your presence the first day, they seemed to have endless questions about every little thing that popped into their heads.

"Just yesterday, Nero was asking me if I would eat a banana if it looked and acted like a monkey," you mused with a laugh, "and V was so adamant that I'd never do such a thing, then looked absolutely scandalized when I said that it would technically still be a banana."

"Such imagery! The poor dear must have had a fit," Naomi chimed with a grin, popping a bite of pastry into her mouth.

"Oh, I got an earful! Have you ever been lectured by a six-year-old? It's quite the experience."

You continued to recount your week with the boys, ruminating on all the little quirks and interests you had learned about them.

Nero absolutely loved anything to do with space. He loved the sky, the moon, the stars and how they formed shapes and constellations. He knew some interesting facts about all nine planets and the sun they orbited, and he had an appreciation for astronauts.

V enjoyed reading during quiet time, and he had a love for flowers, though he admitted that most flowers made his chest hurt, so he could only admire them from afar or within his books. He also had an affinity for animals, especially birds or most anything with wings.

Together, they enjoyed building their own imaginary worlds, and their playtime was quite the spectacle to behold. Beyond that, though, there was a deep bond between the boys, one that was seamless in its complexity.

It was, quite frankly, hard to explain. You had never seen such unity in children before, how both Nero and V sometimes moved as one unit with little hesitance or need for voicing their next plan of action. They were so attuned to each other, Nero moreso aware of V and his limitations, and it was such a marvel to watch how they took care of each other.

You looked up at Naomi, suddenly aware that your tangent had softened and your words had gone quiet. She looked a bit perplexed, her emerald gaze watching closely as your fingers clutched at the pendant around your neck.

"Sorry," you apologized, hand dropping back to the table. There was a moment of guilty despair that felt like a fire poker in your chest

"No, it's alright," she spoke carefully, gaze flitting up to meet yours. "I'm thrilled you've found such joy in taking care of these children, truly, but-"

"I'm fine," you cut in, immediately regretting such a quick response.

Naomi sighed.

"I'm...sorry. It wasn't my intention to upset you."

It was your turn to sigh.

"No, you're fine. I get it - you worry. But it's been over four years since...well. And apart from the recent stress of finding a job, I've been doing really good!"

You reached out and grabbed hold of Naomi's hand, giving it a quick squeeze.

"I'm okay, Naomi. I'm still kicking and screaming, where it still counts, and I'm okay."

The steadfast admission brought a smile to Naomi's face, her fingers squeezing back over your own before you pulled back.

"It's funny how I ever doubt your stubborn resolve," she murmurs wistfully, eating back into the more playful atmosphere your get-togethers almost always provided.

"I feel as if it would be remiss of me to ask: are the fathers single?"

"Naomi!"

"Come, now! Surely, you expected the question?"

And just like that, the conversation began to flow once more as the two of your enjoyed your time together long after your tea ran cold.

------

Tag List: @v-vic, @astridstark13

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc v #dmc au #kid nero #kid v #babysitter au #reader #reader-insert #female reader

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fluorescentpipedream · 4 years

Text

Been learning some things about Dayton the last few days

It’s a little long so I don’t want to clog up anyone’s feeds

Details:

Age: 43

Family:

Parents - Abigail and Ethan Foster. Sibling: Charlotte,Lottie (25)

His parents are still alive though they don’t really acknowledge him much.

His little sister, Lottie, comes to visit him sometimes. She makes jewelry out of recycled materials and gave her brother an earring she made of a broken beer bottle, repurposed as a diamond. He wears it on the right side, though when asked why he only has one, he says “she knows I’ll lose the other one, so this way it’s more special”

He has said he’s a little jealous of his younger sister because “she gets to be normal, and our parents hate that there’s nothing of hers that can capitalize on. Her jewelry business is a fun thing to put her through college, they can’t steal her fortunes and lie to her that it’s in her best interest. I’m envious of her because of her normalcy. How stupid is that?”

Relationships:

Dayton was married when he had his seizure, his husband divorced him shortly after the incident, not being willing to take care of him.

He’s had a few girlfriends but he seems to prefer the company of men

About:

Dayton is highly dependent on drugs and/or alcohol to get by on the outside world because he just can’t seem to function without them when he’s trying to live on his own. He’s lived at the Center in the French Quarter off and on for 4 years, before that taking a stint in jail for public urination and intoxication. He also spit on the arresting officer. Writing about the incident later by saying “he finds it odd that Mardi Gras is legal public drunkenness for the amusement of all but only a few days after, in the stench of Bourbon Street’s parties where trickles of human depravity are being washed from the street, suddenly it’s deplorable and must be cleansed from sight. Though they might have gone easier on me if I hadn’t spit in the cop’s face. Oh well.”

Dayton’s initial slip into this strange state was after a seizure caused by his excessive drinking. The world was easier to handle if he was drunk or high all the time, he didn’t feel like he had to be as smart as he is, when he was riding a drug high. He collapsed at a Mensa event when he was 32, and during the grand mal seizure caused brain damage and for his IQ to slip from the 200s and down into a more average number. He still seems to be very intelligent, though he doesn’t really draw attention to it anymore. After his husband left him, he had apparently only shrugged, taking his ring off and handed it to his little sister, telling her “unconditional love is a joke”

The relationship with his parents finally came to light as well, and he outright told the first social worker when they had suggested he could recover in his parent’s care that they wouldn’t actually care for him anymore. Their free ride now had strings attached and he doubted that they could stand to care for him, since he was pushed to always provide for himself, since he was “smart enough”

He has the potential to live on his own, he just doesn’t have much of a drive to do so. When he’s left on his own he gets distracted and forgets to do even the most basic tasks. He means he forgets to eat, sleep, etc. At the Center, “I’m safe from myself”

Personality:

Self-loathing and tends to put himself down a lot

Suicidal although Lottie seems to be the only reason he won’t go through with killing himself, he loves her too much to leave her with that stigma of “genius brother takes his own life following years of drug and alcohol abuse

A very dark and, at times, unsettling sense of humor. It makes people uncomfortable and his general disinterest in people’s reactions make it worse

“Former” sex addict...he puts it in quotes. As long as he’s not drinking or using drugs he tends to abstain from dangerous sexual liaisons but once he’s under the influence it’s whatever, with whoever and however they choose. “I’m surprised I’m not infected yet”

He’s been with both men and woman and has no preference towards either. “It would be nice to have someone love me...I’m not in a position where I could be the one providing care to another, sadly dealing with me may be a full time job and not one most people are equipped for. I won’t “get better” over time, and crave companionship sometimes even over the obsessive desire to fade from this world”

Interests:

Serial killers. He absently makes profiles for those he reads about or watches reports on TV. He frequents websites that have details on true crime and likes to try to figure out cold cases, for fun. He’s actually figured out several, calling in anonymous tips to hotlines.

-Seriously- considering typing up his profile for the serial killer in San Francisco (Paul) and sending it to Theo deWinter, the agent on the case. He’d learned about the case online and after reading what he could find about the murders and the way the bodies are discovered, he really does want to help. He is concerned they wouldn’t take much consideration in the profile though because of his current mental state. It might hurt his credibility. Still, he says “better not eat anything you buy from Rascal Butcher shop on Main”

Piano, originally it was something he was forced into learning but now that he’s older he enjoys it quite a bit more. He sometimes sits in the grand entrance of the Center and plays on nice days

Writing. Kind of like a cross between Dean Koontz and Stephen King with some Lovecraft like monsters in there. He posts some of his shorter pieces on his blog

Has a tumblr blog called A Damaged Beautiful Mind. Most of the time he answers questions but a few years ago he wrote a rather long post about the inability for criminals, drug addicts and generally anyone who has been arrested to vote in national elections explains a lot about how the entire system is set up so only the elite are allowed to partake (excerpt at the end)

He loves watching psychological thrillers, horror movies and true crime documentaries

He used to want to be a federal profiler and even has degrees in forensic psychology and criminal law

Connections:

Arthur Powell sometimes invites him over for dinner in his room at the center.

He told Arthur he really liked his sister, Frankie once, promising it was “nothing creepy” he just thought she had a beautiful soul and her amazing talent was going to take her places. Arthur has her make him a mirror glaze birthday cake this year that was too beautiful to eat (he did though, only when Lottie came to spend the day with him and she cut into it after taking a picture of it with his phone.)

One of the orderlies brings him coffee and beignets on Saturdays and they talk. Dayton generally believes they’re just checking up on him to make sure he’s had a shower or eaten something recently.

Doctor Snow is his therapist, though lately he feels like he has to search for things to discuss with her. She’s expecting her first child, so the visits are brief and involves how he’s feeling, if he’s still having suicidal thoughts...etc.

He used to be a bit of a lech, being Mike Tomlin’s first foray into gay sex, pinning him to a wall at the Mensa event, the same night as his seizure.

Excerpt from his latest blog entry about election and voting rights, or rather the lack thereof

Any system which segregates the unmentionables and undesirables from the view of the rest only perpetuates the degeneration we’ve been seeing as a whole in this nation. It’s “progress” that the United States lived in a seemingly “Golden Age” under Barack Obama, but if one were to pull back the veil they need only skim the surface to realize, that was a moment of lapse, before the true waves of deceit, corruption and greed rushed back in again.

The years that Obama served in the White House only appear now as the receding of water before the inevitable tsunami. As a nation, we will always boil back down to the nagging truth of George Orwell in Animal Farm; “all animals are created equal, but some are more equal than others” Those that are detestable, or deemed unworthy by social standards, like any number of the “criminals” locked away for crimes enumeration, have been stripped of their ability to stand up for their beliefs.

Their voices are silenced, because by daring to stand against the societal norm, to lash out at the Thomas Moore, Utopian falsehood of America, they proclaimed loudly that the world is not only unfair, but stacked against us from the moment we take our first breaths. Were the US to return rights to the seemingly uneducated, drains on society, they would see real change. But that, in the essence of the truly corrupt leading the imbecilic masses, will never be the case. These commanding forces, like Nero the pig, would rather lead the masses into decisions that have been made for them all the while claiming that it is the people who lead themselves to this. And he can fix it all.

#character #details #skeet ulrich

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princess-of-luxure · 5 years

Text

Half Hearted

A mysterious stranger rescues you from an untimely demise at the hand of some Qliphoth roots. Over the course of the ensuing month, a whirlwind romance quickly develops—only to be snatched away just as quickly.

Some things aren't meant to last.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: V (Devil May Cry)/Reader Characters: V (Devil May Cry), Griffon (Devil May Cry) Content Warnings: Blood, Background Character Death, Near-Death Experiences

Written for day two of whumptober as the tags say, prompt was 'Explosion.' I, uh... I'll admit the prompt only looses relates to what actually ended up being the whump in this fic, but uh, technically it was inspired by the prompt, so good enough.

Fic under read more.

When the infernal tree had first invaded Redgrave City, many of your family members and friends had fled. That was probably the wise thing to do, you mused as you picked your way through rubble and debris, the best way to keep safe. You had seen what the demonic roots did to their victims, and it was far from a pretty sight; a nightmarish vision that you were sure would be burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

Still, you found you couldn’t leave with the others, a soul far too kind and compassionate for its own good tying you to the ruined city. You may have had a chance to run, but others were not so fortunate. Your heart bled to think of those who were alive but trapped, who, without outside assistance, had no hope of escape. True, death by the tree’s roots was an unpleasant way to go, but at least it was over quickly. Death by starvation, dehydration, infection and who knows what else… such a fate was not so kind.

Today saw you combing through the ruins of what you believed might have once been a church. You had never spared much of a thought to religion, but you wondered how many people were praying desperately even now to a God that seemed deaf to their pleads. You couldn’t imagine putting so much faith into a belief that was anything but concrete, but whatever gave people their hope; it was scarce these days.

You were violently snapped out of your thoughts when you saw a small pool of blood trickling from out behind a pillar. It looked fresh, and with a gasp, you ran to check the source. Sure enough, a middle-aged woman was collapsed against it, her life draining from her through an uncountable amount of gouges in her skin, chunks of flesh completely torn away.

Hands trembling, you fell to your knees besides the woman, blood soaking your pants as you reached into your bag for your first-aid kit. You knew it was a futile attempt right from the start, that she was practically already dead, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try. “What happened to you?” you whispered as you worked at bandaging up her stomach, which seemed to be where most of the blood was coming from.

“Demons…” the woman rasped, the action causing even more red from dribble from the corner of her mouth. “You… should…” You didn’t hear the end of her sentence as her head lolled forth onto her chest. Cursing under your breath, you placed two fingers against the pulse point in her neck—nothing, as expected.

You drew back from the body, shaking your head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” you whispered. “Rest in peace.”

You stood in silence for a moment as you debated what to do now. It didn’t take long for you to decide that you couldn’t just leave the corpse lying around to become a demon’s next meal, so with great effort, you dragged it up and slung one of its arms around your shoulders, beginning to drag it towards the exit to the church. You were well aware that this literal dead weight made you a sitting duck if any devils decided you looked like a tasty snack, but what else could you do?

As it turned out, demons should’ve been the least of your worries. Before you could make it more than a few steps, the ground heaved underfoot, and the architecture around you, which was barely standing in the first place, shuddered and collapsed, the dust and debris settling with a note of finality. You were trapped.

The nightmare hardly ended there. From underneath the rubble, a writhing mass of the infernal roots emerged, their razor sharp tips glinting as they sought out new prey, fresh blood. Sought out you.

You couldn’t stop the scream that was torn from your throat as you dropped the body you were carrying, backing up frantically only to slip on a slick patch of blood. You slammed your eyes shut as you crashed to the ground, throwing your arms up to shield your head and curling into fetal position as if that could save you from your imminent death.

A primal growl filled your ears, followed by a wet squelch. You didn’t know what was happening and you didn’t dare to look, but after a few seconds, it finally registered with you that you were alive. There was no burning pain, at least, so—so you had to be alive, unless the screaming of the tree’s other victims had misled you. Somehow, you didn’t think that was it.

“Ey Shakespeare, this one’s alive!” a strange voice cawed from above. Cawed? You cracked your eyes open to see the weirdest bird you’d ever seen in your life fluttering in front of you. You were not sure how it made human sounds with its three be—oh shit, this was a demon.

“Do not fear.” You turned your head to see a man perhaps equally as strange as the demonic bird approach you, hair as black as the ink that swirled across his body, green eyes bright as he took you in. Behind him, you could see the roots turning to ash and crumbling. “We mean you no harm.”

We? He must’ve have been referring to himself and the bird. And… the cat, apparently, noticing what appeared to be a panther stalking into your peripheral view. You got the idea that, just like the bird, it was far from an ordinary animal.

The mysterious stranger followed your gaze and chuckled. “Cat got your tongue, it seems,” he remarked, before extending a tattooed hand to you. Still partially in shock, you took it, allowing him to help you to your feet. “Are you quite alright?”

A million questions swirled around in your mind instead of any sort of coherent answer. A human that kept company in the form of demons… Without permission, you found yourself blurting out, “Who are you?”

Your savior blinked in surprise, then a slow smile spread across his features, containing trace hints of a smirk. It made him look devastatingly handsome, and despite your situation, you felt your breath catch and your heart skip a beat. Surely no man on Earth could look this pretty, and yet here this stranger stood before you, looking like some kind of fallen angel. You almost didn’t catch his response. “You can call me V.”

V. Just one singular letter, and it only served to add to his entrancing mystery. Now that the shock of your near-death experience was starting to wear off, you could—

“Hey, get it together, lovebirds!” the devil bird interjected, cackling as it received an irritated glare from V. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but this is no place for chitchat!”

V sighed, extending an arm for his… pet? Companion? Friend? to perch on. “Griffon is unfortunately correct—”

“Hey, what do you mean, unfortunately?!”

V continued as though he hadn’t heard the outburst. “We must leave this place, post-haste.”

“How?” You glanced around once more to confirm what you already knew. The exits were all blocked, clogged by the initial destruction caused by the roots emerging. “There’s no way out.”

V gave you a cryptic smile. Like every other expression he made, it caused the wings of a thousand butterflies to beat frantically in your stomach. “If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.” Before you could question what the hell that meant, V snapped his fingers. You could only watch in fascination as the color seemed to drain from his hair, leaving mystical white locks in its wake.

You nearly leapt out of your skin as there was a booming crash behind you. Turning, you found a hulking monstrosity of the slime variety had just broken through one of the clogged exits, clearing a path.

Looking back to V, you found he was smirking again. Goddammit, that smirk was going to be the death of you, the curve of those pretty lips… Once again, you almost missed his next words. “Shall we?” His hand was extended to you again, this time not a necessary help but an invitation. A choice.

An invitation you would be a fool not to accept, a choice that was easily made. You carefully slipped your fingers through his. “We shall.”

The look he gave you, full of wonder and intrigue, would have been reward enough. If V had departed after rescuing you here, it would have been disappointing, but it would have been enough.

He didn’t. He didn’t leave, vanishing into the night as with so many romantic stories of handsome saviors. V stayed.

And that was more than enough.

Until it wasn’t.

~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~

“There is a smile of love, And there is a smile of deceit, And there is a smile of smiles In which these two smiles meet.”

A month had passed since V had rescued you from the Qliphoth’s bloodthirsty roots. After introducing you to his friends, the devil hunter Nero and the mechanic Nico, you had quickly fallen into a routine, and these days when you scoured the city for survivors, you had a rude bird, silent cat and a beloved emo poet to watch your back. Not that you’d ever called V an emo poet to his face, of course—it was an inside joke between you and Griffon.

With each day that passed, the bond between you and V only grew deeper and stronger. It started off innocently enough, furtive glances and secretive smiles that were laden with meaning. As time flew by, it became open, longing looks, touches that lingered a second too long, earnest conversation throughout the night, and Griffon shrieking for the two of you to leave room for Jesus, until it culminated in falling onto the couch together with a trembling, hesitant meeting of lips.

It was bliss. In the weeks that followed you were both subjected to endless snark from your companions, but it hardly bothered you. Why should it, when you were lucky enough to be able to call the embodiment of perfection yours?

Today found you laying with your head in V’s lap, his slender fingers carding through your hair as he read aloud to you from his book of poetry. His dulcet tones filled your mind like a pleasant fuzz, leaving you dazed and floating in the realm between dreams and wakefulness.

You didn’t notice he had stopped reading until he spoke, gently brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Are you awake, my love?” There was a hint of teasing in his voice.

“Mm.” You fluttered your eyes open, greeted by the ever wonderful sight of your partner’s breathtaking smile, laced with hints of a smirk as it had been on the day you met. You had grown to love that smile, that almost-smirk. “Depends on if you’re going to go back to reading.”

V chuckled, a low sound that was more melodious than any bird song to you. His hand slipped to cradle the back of your head as he drew you in for a sweet kiss, a heavenly thing that left your lips tingling and bliss permeating your every sense of being. Kissing V was and would always be your favorite pleasure, always leaving you chasing more of that heady feeling. His kisses were more intoxicating than any alcohol, and if the last thing you ever felt was V’s warm lips upon yours, well, that would be just fine.

“Though nothing would bring me greater pleasure…” He was speaking again. Damn, you really needed to stop with the zoning out over him. “...I’m afraid I have a mission to see through.”

That caught your attention. Blinking, you sat up, studying his expression. “I’ll come with you,” you began to say, but V was already shaking his head.

“As much as I enjoy your company, this mission would be too dangerous for you, I’m afraid. I must go after Urizen.” Urizen. The demon responsible for ruining Redgrave City. The demon responsible for you meeting V. “He has been left unattended for far too long, and time is a luxury we can no longer afford.”

V stood and you did the same, chewing on your inner lip as your partner retrieved his cane. “Be safe, V,” you murmured, an almost pleading quality to your tone. “You’ll come home, won’t you?”

There’s a melancholy look in emerald eyes, and only you would notice the way his grip subtly tightened on his cane. “Of course, my love,” he replies softly, and as he steps out into the daylight and out of your sight, leaving you alone with nothing but the anxiety that gnaws at your gut, you think he might be lying.

(He does return, months later, but his features and expressions are unfamiliar to you and the name he calls himself—Vergil—is a stranger’s.)

#whumptober2019 #no.2 #explosion #dmc #devil may cry #v devil may cry #v dmc5 #v x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #devil may cry fanfic #devil may cry fanfiction #mal writes #half hearted

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allyspellman-blog · 5 years

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Spellwood fanfiction - Zelda is pregnant and has to tell Faustus

Zelda could not believe her own luck, if she could call it a lucky one. Her memories bring the images less than a month ago. Lady Blackwood had died, taking with her the two high priest's twins, of course the guilt had relapsed upon her, and after a night full of loud voices and accusations she hadn’t seen Faustus Blackwood again except in the academy.

And there she was ... Looking at that little slug pacing the kitchen table, indicating what she already suspected ... She was pregnant. After so many years avoiding something like that, jumping from a relationship to the another taking nothing but good memories she allowed her guard to fall and now ... Now she was pregnant with the High Priest of the Church of Night. Her tears were already wetting her chin as she continued to watch the little slug's walk, how could she be so foolish.

Zelda had always been in love with children, from a very young age, Hilda didn’t know, but it was she who had practically raised her during her babyhood and then came Ambrose and then Sabrina, but she never imagined that the day that would carry a child in her womb would reach , she never imagined that her teenage boyfriend would give her a child. She was so confused and her fingers were desperate for the weight of the cigarette, but she could not do something like that, not knowing that her body carried another life.The redhead takes a deep breath and lets her head find the table..She was frustrated and tired, for Satan she just wanted it to be a dream.

She was an adult witch, though.But, all Zelda wanted was for her mother to be there, beside her ... The Spellman's mother died abruptly, she enrolled as a nurse in World War I, and died in a bombardment of the Germans in England ... Her father died shortly thereafter thanks to perpetual vow. And then the house's older witch, she, had to take the reins of the situation and direct her family to the only place where there was no war arrived seemed to be the best ... Zelda was about 15 at the time and she believed that the lack of her mother could never be so big... Until that time, the redhead just wanted someone to touch her shoulders and say that everything would be fine, even if she thought it didn’t.

The Spellman sighed trying to clear her eyes, but as soon as she tried new tears, they came up hot and sore. She was more than a century now and if she was sincere she had no idea what to do, even with all her experience she felt a teenager again, a lump formed in his throat just at the prospect of telling Blackwood.First, He didn’t want to look into her eyes, second why would he be happy with the news?He still blamed her for the death of his twins, and He would surely see it as a trap set by her.

“Zelds?” Her little sister's voice makes her look up from the table, Hilda was curled up in her flowery robe at the kitchen door, her brow furrowed in confusion, but as soon as the blonde approaches and finds the little slug on the table ... Zelda she doesn’t have to say anything at all, so she is preparing a soothing tea and pulling her hair back from her face. The redhead no longer had a mother, but certainly had a sister who acted as such. Hilda's fingers are soft as they bring their hair to her back and wipe away the tears that for some reason do not stop falling, Zelda didn’t usually have a tap in her eyes.

Her younger sister sits opposite her, the steaming cup of tea before her eyes, almost beckoning her to drink. One of the blonde's hands is holding her in her fingers, passing a comfort she didn’t think was possible.

“You have to tell him, Zelds. "It's the blonde's first sentence when she takes the first sip into her mouth, her hands are shaking, and she can’t think how many reasons could lead to it. But does Hilda's phrase make her tremble a little more, tell Faustus? He hated her after all, didn’t he? And since the Spellmans sisters never needed more than a glance to communicate with each other he understood everything that was going on in his head, or at least part of it. "He always loved you, Zelda ... You should not stick to what he said that night, he was angry and tired ... He knows you did what you could.” The word love echoed in her head and made her dizzy for a brief moment. The redhead took a deep breath, she didn’t want to talk to the brunette, she didn’t want to be having this conversation with her sister, she didn’t want any of this ... She just wanted a place to rest her head and pretend that an earthquake was not coming ... What would she do with the Academy, the choir, her classes? For Satan …”I know you must be thinking a thousand things per minute ... But please go talk to him ... He needs to know, before anyone else.” Her sister's words frightened her, not only because she did not expect her to defend the man who excommunicated her from the church, but also because she knew the younger witch was right ... He would know, Zelda wishing or not and It was better that he should be the first.

"I know, sister.” Her voice doesn’t carry the sarcasm or superiority she usually showed, it sounds faint and melancholic. Hilda smiles softly as she shakes her hand, she was happy after all ... One more child by the house, that was missing for years.

Zelda turns the rest of her tea in a single swallow and then ties her own robe around her waist, this unlike Hilda's was completely black.

“Thanks.” She says, leaving a kiss on the chubby cheek of her sister, even if she was older Zelda would always consider Hilda wiser, she always knew what to say and always had the right tea for everything.

“You're welcome, sweetie. "And the blonde is there when the redhead disappears, finishing her own cup ... She could not wait to break the news to the other residents of the house ... Vinegar Tom sure already knew and he came curling up on her feet, asking for a biscuit ... But the most problematic thing for sure would be Sabrina, she didn’t want to think about it at that moment.

Zelda knew that Faustus was still awake, in fact she believed that the Spellman house was the one where the wizards slept before 6 in the morning, they always had night classes at the Academy, so their schedules were inverted with those of mortals and the day it was night, but nothing could be normal in that family ... They had Sabrina and she was half mortal.Making the need to sleep all night a custom.

When she finds herself standing in the kitchen of the Blackwood mansion she takes a deep breath, what would she say to him? "Hi, Father Blackwood, I'm sorry I could not save your twins, but I can reward you with a new child." That didn’t sound good. ... The redhead begs the Dark Lord for a blessing before she begins to climb the stairs to the office of Faustus Blackwood. Zelda Spellman had always been a witch of measured, well-placed attitudes, but she you can’t avoid the tremor that reaches your body when she touch the handrail.

He looked so handsome as he read.Zelda always loved to see him read, wearing his glasses (much more needed in the night than for a sight problem) and with a slight wrinkle in his face Faustus really looked like a teacher of history, not with the powerful wizard he was. She leaned against the doorframe of the office, taking advantage of his distraction to admire him for a few more seconds, for a brief moment she forgets what brought her there, she sees him pass a page of the great book that read and adjust the suit still attached to the body. She believed that he was born with one of them. The familiar of Faustus is her informer, however, the little ferret runs to her legs, quickly climbing her body to curl up in her hair, she saw Nero as infrequently since the animal was of the utmost importance for diplomatic relations he always seemed to be homesick for everything and everyone.

Faustus looked up as he noticed the agitation of his familiar and the surprise cuts off his face as he noticed the presence at his door at 3 am. He immediately stands up, waiting for the animal's agitation to pass to face the redhead, dressed in no more than a black sweater and a robe. She looked wonderful in the light of his room, Zelda always looked beautiful to him.

"Sister Spellman?" The redhead catches the ferret in her hair, bringing it forward, her smile fading as she encounters the hard face of the high priest. "To what do I owe the honor of this unusual and unexpected visit?" His voice was still as sharp as the ice itself, and the witch sighed as she entered the room and left the small animal on the floor. The priest went to the bar, pouring himself a dose of whiskey, he offered her with a gesture and the redhead just shakes her head.

"I have a subject to deal with you." He glances over the glass at the "you" but doesn’t correct hear, just leans on his polished mahogany table to face her, trying as hard as possible not to be shaken by her dress or the woman's seemingly dejected face which was usually so rough. It was not Zelda Spellman's way to show that she was in a complicated situation, she used to put an even-handed expression on her face and then resurface strong and resilient as it should be ... But not there ... Not before wizard whose son was in her stomach.

"And from what I see you could not wait until tomorrow, right?" The redhead takes a deep breath, tightening the robe around her waist, her eyes falling to her sneakers, she could feel Blackwood's gaze piercing her face and she could not say anything if he continued this way.

“It's a matter of urgency.”She murmurs, and the high priest sighs, turning the rest of the golden liquid in a single swallow and without a twitch in his face. It's been years since Blackwood was last crushed for some alcohol.

"Then go on." He stretches out an arm, as if she should make a parade or something and the witch remains in its place, almost at the door, missing Nero around her, that little animal even though it was not her family passed some safety.

"I ..." The words curled up on her tongue and something stirred in her stomach, unlike the morning sickness he'd been having for almost a week, it squeezed her belly in an extreme manner, making her take her hand to the spot. The eagerness didn’t appear, and in its place her vision became blurred, a nail being tucked into hr temple could be a good description of the pain he felt at that moment. Blackwood frowned and before he found himself holding the redhead behind her back, preventing her from falling to the side, desperately holding her stomach.

"For the love of Satan, Zelda.” He said, completely forgetting the formality of "sister Zelda," the wizard walked with her in his arms to his corner sofa, laying her on and looking for a cushion for her to support her head. Yes, Faustus was still angry at his wife's death, and entirely at the death of his twins... But he cared for Zelda in a way he believed he had never cared about any living being other than his familiar and his mother.He doesn’t know what to do, so there is an expectation in his eyes as she removes her hand from her face and her eyes fall on his. If before she was contemplating the possibility of not saying ... That had evaporated, how could she explain this? unusual weakness otherwise?

“I'm Pregnant. "Zelda was an expert on what was said to read Blackwood's expressions, but at that moment there is such a mix of emotions on his face that she can not concentrate enough and feels confused. She can understand the surprise, the disbelief...But happiness?Was there happiness t? The redhead sees him sit on the floor, next to her, his gaze is lost in one of the walls and he seems to digest it all very slowly. He breathes several times, his tongue slides by the upper lip ... He breathes again and she swore he could hear his heart pounding.

Zelda expected a lot of actions. She expected him to scream, to tell her that she was planning all this, she hoped he would kick her out of his house and never come back, she hoped he would say that that son didn’t belong to him… She expected all this and perhaps more ... But she didn’t think Faustus had turned on his knees and left a kiss on her belly, still covered in her robe and sweater.

She feels warm tears build up in her eyes, through Satan ... It was just that she needed, just a small gesture that could melt her heart, a gesture that said he cared, that they could handle it.

“Forgive me.”He grunts as he lays his face on her neck, she smiles softly as she runs her fingers through his hair, feeling her own eyes rather heavy.

"Just stay here, I don’t want more than this" "The High Priest readily attends to her request and circles her waist with his arms, very carefully, his lips meeting her temple.

Maybe that was the meaning of love, thought the redhead. Feeling comfort in a gesture you didn’t even know you needed.

#ambrose spellman #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #hilda spellman #miranda otto #richard coyle #sabrina spellman #zelda spellman #faustus balckwood #faustusxzelda #spellwood #fanfiction #fanfic #father blackwood

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novelelitist · 5 years

Text

Fate/Extra Last Encore Anime Thoughts

After watching the whole thing:

Pro Tip: Illustrias Geocentric Theory is listed as 3 episodes in Netflix but it’s really the full 2-hour special split into two regular-length episodes and one extended. I really wish Nero called Hakuno “praetor” like she’s supposed to instead of “performer.”

Info: SE.RA.PH in Extra is the equivalent of Akasha, AKA The Root, AKA The Thing Mages Wanted To Find. It holds all of human history. Servants are summoned to protect the Moon Cell, but Hakunon was able to fool the Moon Cell’s security system which is what allowed servants to protect them.

Info: Nero isn’t the true route of Extra or CCC, but I’m of the impression she’s the most popular and accessible for people that haven’t played the games or gone in-depth with the Ex world. Sakura is the "true” route of both games. She appears to be only available in NewGame+ modes for both.

I like Fate/Extra’s Nero Claudius falling in love with Hakuno and vice-versa. It actually makes sense.

I like the bookmark that Extra Hakuno left for him to return to the final stage when Leo and Gawain shrek them. Thank you, actual Hakuno, for being a Good Girl.

Nero and Hakuno fight Gawain on a stage with sunlight, seems like a bad choice. But later the sun is setting, and as a whole the final fight between Nero and Gawain is great. She breaks through his Noble Phantasm, destroys his sword, and as her theater burns she takes Gawain out.

I like that Gawain is a Very Good Boy and obeys his master to the end even when he’s questionable. It fits his character. Instead of letting Gawain die to Nero, Leo declares defeat to protect him and sneaks him into the Angelica Cage. Gawain gets an incredible moment of using Excalibur Galantine even after his sword has been shattered. He and Leo sacrifice themselves for Hakuno to break into SE.RA.PH. The music during this is exceptional. Watching this anime was worth it just to make it to this scene for me. I love Gawain. I love his version of Excalibur. The fact he wields the Holy Sword in his own way in the Fate universe makes me happy.

I don’t like how awkward a lot of the dialogue is. It’s very monologue-y, which works well for anime but I’m totally tired of it. Why is there so much goddamn monologue-ing in anime? Can we not? Please?

Give Nero pants, Jesus Christ. Just because the Romans liked to get wild doesn't mean to be naked below the waist.

Not a fan of how the voice acting conveys the characters in the English dub. But I really liked Nero and her VA did a mostly great job, she just isn’t aggressive enough in battle scenes I don’t think. And Hakuno’s VA was fine, I think he did what he could with his awkward lines. Rin’s VA is still great and I love her so much.

Twice Pieceman is a peculiar villain. (As I typed that I was watching Olympia Plaudere and he literally said he was programmed as a “peculiar NPC” so I must have the right idea.)

Leo is such a little shit. “Having lost, I remain neutral.” And Nero calling him frustrating because “IT ISN’T THAT DIFFICULT TO DECLARE FRIEND OR FOE” made me smile. He becomes a little less of a little shit throughout Illustrias Geocentric Theory, but he’s still a little shit. There’s at least one moment of his animation I really adore. He does this little hair flip and I love it. And there is a partly decent monologue.

I'm weird about the animation, but the aesthetic makes sense for the Extra anime because it matches the Extra art style. Just because I don’t prefer it doesn’t mean it’s bad, but it’s really not my thing.

Some of the cuts are fast and awkward, which I’m again not a fan of.

The whole Extra story is nuts and not for newbies to the Fate Series, or for people that only play FGO. You're not going to get it and it's going to drive you nuts.

Music in the Illustrias Geocentric Theory is just so fucking good. I loved the soundtrack. I was surprised by how good it was.

I wish Extra would’ve ever gotten translated to English. I really liked bro Hakuno near the end. He had a lot of character development and growth and at the end. His choice overwhelmed me and I was super emotional about it.

The animation quality was so mediocre and frustrating and inconsistent. There were countless points where scenes weren’t consistent, and there was a lot of re-used motion and imagery.

There’s a super short scene after the ending credits that’s about 1:40. It didn’t satisfy what I wanted from it, but it left a feeling over hopefulness and I guess I couldn’t ask much else when we knew from the start Hakuno was going to be eliminated.

#spoilers #fate extra #fate extra last encore #last encore #fate series

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sorrowsflower · 6 years

Text

Polyphemus

Parent!lock. Adlock, sort of.

The entrance hallway at 221 Baker Street was empty when Sherlock walked in, devoid of Mrs. Hudson's usual bustling welcome and offer of tea. A mild disappointment to follow the much larger one Sherlock had received this morning with his last lead.

The new case he had been working on was not proving to be easy. The dead body found yesterday near Bethnal Green station had yet to be identified -- though Sherlock had a strong suspicion that he was a homeless man from Croydon by the state of his shoes and fingernails. He would utilize the talents of his own homeless network, but they had been surprisingly difficult to track all day. Even Wiggins was nowhere to be found.

Sherlock sighed as he shook off his coat. He was just about to hang it behind the door when he spotted the first irregularity. Two of the hooks on the rack were already occupied, both with children's coats -- Belstaff, both tailored miniature versions of his own: one a girl's size 6 and the other a boy's size 12.

He smiled. The girl was always small for her age -- took after her mother, that one -- but the boy had had a recent growth spurt. Any more and he was likely to be taller than his mother before he turned thirteen.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

There was no answer, and Sherlock ventured further into the house, noting further irregularities along the way -- a carelessly discarded bag on the floor behind the stairs, the Nikon D5600 he'd given the girl for her last birthday in its neat little purse on the table, an orchid in a pot near the east-facing window of the living room.

They'd come from the Azores, then. And by the looks of things, the Woman had stayed behind. It was unusual that she wouldn't come to see him or summon him, even for a day at the very least, when the children were in town. Which meant that Sherlock wasn't the only one who was busy this weekend.

Doing his level best to convince to himself that he wasn't disappointed, Sherlock moved off in search of his landlady. He found Mrs. Hudson snoozing on the kitchen table, next to a plate of biscuits and two cups of tea. The biscuits hadn't been polished off, which was another irregularity in itself since Nero loved Ginger Nuts.

Sherlock gently nudged his landlady awake. "Mrs. Hudson."

The old woman's eyes popped open and she blinked owlishly at him. "Oh! Sherlock. I must have dozed off."

"Mrs. Hudson, where are the children?"

"The children?" Mrs. Hudson's voice was thick and slightly groggy. "Oh! Well... Nero and I were just having tea. He was telling me about his new plant, and I must have nodded off. I was cleaning all morning, and I must have been more tired than I thought--"

"And Mercy?"

Mrs. Hudson straightened her blouse and started cleaning up the table, smiling at the mention of his little girl. "She said she was going upstairs to play with her new doll, the little dear."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He took one of the cups from the table and surreptitiously dipped his finger into it. The tea was cold.

"Are they both upstairs?"

Mrs. Hudson gave him a distracted smile as she took the cups and plates to the sink. "I'm sure they are, dear. I told them they could stay there and wait till you came back."

The last word was barely out of her mouth before Sherlock was bounding up the stairs two steps at a time. He hurriedly unlocked the door to 221B, but found the whole place empty, apart from the designer luggage and two pairs of children's boots, one pair smaller than the other, sitting behind the door.

"Nero? Mercy?" He called, wrenching doors open as he went around the flat. Every room other than the sitting room was devoid of any signs of his children. "Nero! Marciana!"

No answer.

Forcing down his panic, Sherlock raced back downstairs, grabbing his coat along the way. He fished his mobile out of the pocket, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's surprised voice calling out to him from the kitchen as he rushed out the door. He strode down the street rapidly, pulling a familiar number from his contacts.

The Detective Inspector answered on the first ring. Sherlock didn't even give him time for a greeting. "Lestrade. I need your help."

"Sherlock? Wha--"

"It's an emergency. My--"

Sherlock stopped short as he passed by the mouth of an alley a few blocks from 221B. Another irregularity. A rather glaring one, this time.

"Shelock?" Lestrade's confused voice issued from the phone as Sherlock lowered it from his ear. The other man was all but forgotten as Sherlock ventured farther into the alley.

"Sherlock, what’s going o--" Lestrade's voice cut off as Sherlock dropped the call and slipped the mobile back into his pocket.

There it was. A single scrap of white cloth lying beside a skip bin. Sherlock's heart thudded thickly in his chest as he picked it up.

It was a lace appliqué from a child's dress, ends frayed as if it had been torn off. Sherlock recognized the pattern from the dress Mercy had worn when he had met them in Florence last summer.

Sherlock's eyes rose to the skip, heart caught in his throat, fearing the worst despite his earlier suspicions. What would he find in there?

His hands felt clammy and his forehead was cold with sweat as he grabbed the edge of the lid. Sherlock was the farthest thing from a praying man, but he found himself silently begging as he jerked the lid up to reveal the contents of the skip.

Please... Don't let it be...

It was empty.

Well, not entirely. The skip was strewn with a few crates and the expected trash. But what mattered was the fact that his daughter's little body wasn't among the contents.

Relief flooded through Sherlock's system, making him feel weak and slightly ill. He let the lid fall and stepped away, the scrap from Mercy's dress still clutched in his hand. He took a moment to brace his hands on his knees and even out his breathing.

As he collected his bearings, a laugh and a tiny voice rang out from the other end of the alley. Sherlock's head shot up.

"Full house! I win!"

He recognized that voice. Mercy!

Sherlock rapidly straightened up and ran to the end of the alley. He turned round the corner, almost slipping on a discarded plastic bag in his haste, and stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

His six year-old daughter was sitting on a crate, her white dress spread out around her, her feet in beribboned little shoes dangling at least two feet off the dirty ground.

She was laughing in delight as she revealed her hand of cards, and her heels made little thumping noises as she swung her feet back and forth, as was her habit whenever she was sitting on any seat that was too big for her -- which was often, given her size. Her brother stood beside her, arms crossed over his chest, chewing his lip in amusement.

Mercy appeared to be surrounded by at least half his homeless network -- which would explain why Sherlock had been unable to find them all morning -- most of whom were throwing down cards and grumbling as they surrendered various items to a considerable pile at his daughter's feet, which included -- from what Sherlock could see -- money, several watches, two cheap mobile phones, six packets of cigarettes, three pocket knives, and to his surprise, a cat.

Sherlock was caught between the relief of seeing both his children unharmed, and the confusion as to what the hell was going on here.

Nero was closest to Sherlock and the first to see him. His face revealed a very familiar mixture of surprise and guilt upon seeing Sherlock. "Dad! We can explain..."

Mercy looked up from her winnings with a wide smile. "Daddy! How did you find us?"

Sherlock exhaled loudly and held up the scrap from her dress, and added, "You told Mrs. Hudson you were going to play with your new doll, when I know for a fact that you hate dolls, and the last one you had became the victim of a violent crime. If you're going to lie, Marciana, at least make the lie a believable one."

Nero snickered. "Amateur."

Mercy glared at him from her perch on the crate. "At least I'm not the one who lost the first five games."

Nero opened his mouth to reply, but Sherlock cut him off, pinching the skin between his eyebrows.

"Would either of you mind explaining to me why you drugged Mrs. Hudson and snuck out of the house? To what end? So Marciana could steal from my homeless network?"

"I'm not stealing!" Mercy had the audacity to look affronted. Sherlock could feel a headache coming on. "I won them! And we were helping."

"Helping?" How was taking years off his life helpful?

"With your case, Dad." Nero volunteered, to commute the sentence he was sure to receive after all of this. "We found out the name of your victim."

"His name is Pete Marshall, Daddy. He lives down in Croydon. But Dot says he has a mum who lives in Bethnal Green." Mercy turned to one of his Irregulars, an older matronly woman who smiled fondly at her. "Right, Dottie?"

"Right," Dot nodded before turning to Sherlock. "Clever kids you got there, Mr. Holmes. 'Specially that little girl. Cleaned us all out. Took my cat too. Can we keep her, Mr. Holmes?"

At the mention of the cat, Mercy lit up and shimmied down from her perch on the crate. She landed with a smart tap of her neat little shoes, dislodging most of her precarious mismatched pile, and picked up said animal.

"Daddy, look what I won!"

Yes, that was definitely a stress headache forming right between his eyes. "We're not keeping it. Give it back to Dot, Marciana."

"But, Daddy, I won him! He's mine!" Mercy hauled the cat up to her chest, clutching it with both hands. She looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes. He recognized that stubborn look, the one that very clearly said that his daughter was determined to have her way. "See, he has only one eye. His name is Polyphemus!"

"Actually, his name is Frank." Nero chipped in.

"You call him whatever you like, dearie." Dot chuckled unhelpfully, and Sherlock glared at her. "He's yours now."

"See, Daddy?" Mercy looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

"Mother won't have it in the house." Nero remarked offhandedly. "It's ugly."

"Your face is ugly!" Mercy rounded on him with a sharp glare, clinging to the cat ferociously, rubbing its fur to soothe it from Nero's teasing. She turned back to Sherlock with wide eyes, her expression changing from murderous to adorably beseeching in a disconcertingly short amount of time. "Please, Daddy?"

Oh, he knew that look well. And he knew his daughter. Once Marciana decided she wanted something, come hell or high water, she would find a way to get it, and woe betide anyone who stood in her way.

Wonder where she got it from.

"Please, Daddy?" Mercy asked again, tugging at the leg of his trousers, her blue-green eyes wide and her lower lip pushing out into a charming little pout. Damn. He never could say no to her.

"Fine!" Sherlock groaned and exhaled loudly. "Take the wretched thing. But leave everything else behind. No knives, Marciana! Dot, the address in Bethnal Green, if you please."

Dot laughed as she typed it onto Sherlock's phone. "Yes, sir."

Nero scoffed. "No fair! She always gets her way because she's the baby."

"I've half a mind to consider Dot's offer and let them keep you both." Sherlock muttered to himself as he shepherded both children out of the alleyway and onto the street. "And that cat--"

"Polyphemus." Mercy chimed in.

"-- Polyphemus -- won't be staying here. I won't have him coughing up furballs on my experiments. You'll have to be the one to tell your Mother about your newly acquired housemate."

"Yes, Daddy." Mercy beckoned him with a finger and Sherlock leaned down closer to her.

Mercy released one arm from Polyphemus and slipped it around Sherlock's neck. She kissed his cheek, and despite the annoyance of cat hairs now transferred onto his Belstaff, Sherlock smiled begrudgingly. "Thank you, Daddy."

"He's still not staying here."

By the time Mercy and Nero returned to Baker Street again six months later, Polyphemus was a permanent fixture at 221B.

_________

By SorrowsFlower

I know, it’s ooc. Sorry. I just want a fic of Sherlock and my babies.

#sherlock holmes #nero wolfe #parentlock #adlock #adlock au #sort of #adlock ficlets #ch: marcianna 'mercy' holmes #i shouldn't have posted this #like i have no writing abilities right now

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ryqoshay · 6 years

Text

How to Handle a Nico: Elementary, My Dear Maki-chan

Primary Pairing: NicoMaki Words: ~1.7k Rating: G Time Frame: Later in Maki’s 1st and Nico’s 3rd year of high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

List of all HtHaN scenes

Author’s Note: The first scene, of what will likely be several, inspired by the detective theme of the 36th Score Match in LLSIF, featuring NicoMaki.

Maki gave herself another glance in the changing room mirror. The earthy and brown tones were not as cutesy as most of the other outfits she had worn today, but instead gave off a more formal feel. The stripes on the waistcoat and notch lapels of her jacket looked sharp, or… what was the word Nico had used for the other outfit? Dashing? Also, the darker colors made the red ribbon stand out that much more. The same held true for her hair with the brown hat, which she now donned.

She smiled at her reflection and the full effect of the complete costume. It was supposed to be a detective theme and it was definitely working. Maki felt like she should be running around Victorian London, chasing criminals and seeking clues to solve a mystery. Kotori and the photography company did good work, as always.

Still smiling, Maki left the dressing room and turned down the hallway. She immediately stopped when she noticed someone leaning against the wall.

“Nico-chan?” The first-year inquired.

“Tut tut.” The third-year shook her head. “That’s Nicolock to you.”

“What was that?”

Nico produced what looked like an old-fashioned pipe. “Nicolock Holmes.” She said before putting the end in her mouth. She then blew into the pipe, which released a barrage of bubbles into the air. “No. 1 Detective in the Universe.”

“Sherlock?”

“Nicolock.” The older girl corrected again. “And you must be Makey Watsikino.”

“Watsi… wha?”

“Watsikino.”

“I don’t get it…”

Nico giggled before blowing more bubbles.

Maki shook her head before inspecting the other girl’s costume. The pipe certainly fit with what she knew of Doyle’s character, as did the ulster coat and deerstalker hat. The pink ribbon securing the flaps added a distinctly Nico-nii-esque flare… geez, did she really think of it that way? Anyway, the braids, while having nothing to do with Sherlock or detectives or whatever… Maki couldn’t deny that they were quite cute. Then there was the ego; Nico definitely shared the famed detective’s ego. However, there was one thing that seemed lacking…

“So… why are you Holmes and I’m Watson?” Maki asked.

“<Elementary, my dear Maki-chan.>” Nico stated in English, with her best attempt at a British accent.

Well, that certainly sounded like something Sherlock might say… Still…

“Is it?”

“Of course! Nico is the No. 1 Idol in the Universe, so it only makes sense that she would play the part of the No. 1 Detective in the Universe.”

“Hrm…”

“Hey…” Nico’s eyes narrowed. “Is Maki trying to imply that Nico isn’t smart enough to be Sherlock?”

“Wha?” Maki balked. “No!”

In truth, Maki had actually been wondering about Nico’s deductive reasoning skills, not her intelligence… wait… that kind of had a bit to do with intelligence. But also observation! Nico was capable of being quite perceptive, when she needed to be. And in that light, the same held true for intelligence. She wasn’t an idiot, even if she often acted like one.

“Uhm…” Maki found herself unable to give voice to her thoughts in the face of Nico’s scrutiny.

“Nico would make a fine detective.” Nico declared after a moment. “I’ll prove it! Feed me and I’ll grow, but water me and I’ll die. What am I?”

Maki racked her brain for a moment. She knew she had read the answer to that at some point. So why couldn’t she think of it now?

“When you need me, you throw me away.” Nico continued. “But when you’re done with me, you bring me back. What am I?”

“Wait, you didn’t give me time to answer the first one!”

“There’s a one-story house where everything inside is pink: …”

“Nico-chan owns a house?”

Nico pursed her lips. “Pink walls, pink doors, pink floors, pink ceilings, pink windows, pink curtains, pink chairs and pink tables. What color are the stairs?”

“Those are just riddles, Nico-chan.” Maki said before the other girl started another one. “You just read them in a book somewhere.”

“Isn’t reading how Maki-chan gets a lot of her intelligence?”

“I… uhm…” Maki found she couldn’t refute that.

“And detective stories often have riddles in them.”

“… I suppose.”

“And isn’t there a villain that is always spouting off riddles and such?”

“… Not in Sir Author Conan Doyle’s work… I think?”

“Well, one of them had to have had at least one riddle.”

“I remember a code made with men holding flags or something. Maybe that counts?”

“Ah, Holmes and Watson!” A voice came from behind Maki. “I love it.”

“Hey, Nozomi.” Nico greeted.

Maki turned to see Nozomi and Kotori dressed in military themed outfits similar to the one Maki had worn a little while ago.

“Good choices, Kotori-chan.” The purple-haired girl continued.

“I had a lot of fun researching ideas for this set.” The ash-haired girl replied.

“Maki-chan wants to know why the adorable Nico-nii is the playing the part of the illustrious Sherlock.” The raven-haired girl said. “She doesn’t think Nico is smart enough.”

“That’s not it!” The redhead protested.

Nico stuck out her tongue.

“Actually, I decided to have Maki-chan be Watson first.” Kotori explained. “Because Watson was a doctor.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Nico nodded. “Maki-chan is going to be the No. 1 Doctor in the Universe after all.”

Maki raised an eyebrow but wasn’t sure what to say in response.

“So Nico is Sherlock because…” Nico prodded.

“Because Watson is often the straight man to Holmes’ eccentricities?” Nozomi suggested.

“Well…” Kotori fidgeted with a part of her costume. “I stumbled across some fics during my research…”

“Fics?” Nico questioned.

Nozomi snickered. “Seems like Kotori-chan thought if Watson was with Holmes, then Maki-chan should be with Nicocchi.”

“Of cour…” Nico cut off. “Wait, just what kind of fics were you reading Kotori?”

“Oh, that’s the photographer calling.” Kotori looked past the other girls before scurrying off.

“I don’t get it.” Maki spoke up. “Does she think Nico-chan and I would be good at solving crimes together or something?”

Nozomi laughed. “No, Maki-chan, she…”

Nico growled in warning.

“Anyway,” Nozomi shifted gears “Nicocchi’s voice also sounds kind of like one of the girls from that detective anime that came out a few years ago…” She paused in thought for a moment. “But wasn’t that character based off a different detective…? Nero…?”

“Nero Wolfe?” Maki suggested.

“Yes, that one.”

“No, that won’t do.” Nico shook her head. “If Maki-chan is Watson, then Nico is Sherlock. That much is obv… <It’s elementary.>” She corrected by repeating her earlier phrase.

“Well…” Nozomi smiled. “I suppose there are a few mysteries when it comes to you two.”

“There’s no mystery!” Nico suddenly grinned. “Maki-chan is the best partner for Nico-nii!” She turned and glomped onto her junior.

“Buweeh?!” Maki uttered.

“It’s a brilliant solution!”

Nozomi laughed before turning as though hearing something. “Oh, that really was the photographer…” She said before wandering off to join Kotori.

“And we have our own shoot to make.” Nico said, letting go of the younger girl. “<Come, Maki-chan, the game is afoot!>”

“A-alright…” Maki replied.

As her senior took her hand and began to lead her down the hall, Maki found herself thinking. Who was right, Nico or Nozomi? Was there a mystery or a brilliant solution? Certainly, there were many things that Maki thought about when it came to her time and interactions with Nico. But… what was that line Doyle had Sherlock use? Something about impossible and truth and improbable…

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. That was the one. And the truth was that Maki enjoyed her time with Nico, despite, or perhaps sometimes because of their silly spats. Despite, and again perhaps sometimes because of Nico’s bratty behavior. The Maki of just a few months ago might have thought such a situation was impossible, and even now, Maki often considered it improbable. But truth it was all the same.

Maki felt the pang of something that was slowly becoming familiar as Nico let go of her hand when the two reached the set. However, it was quickly replaced with a different, warmer sensation as she watched Nico cheerfully greet the photographer and assistant. Nico was in her element and Maki couldn’t help being fascinated by watching her.

A smile came to Maki’s lips in response to the broad one being displayed by the older girl. When Nico’s smile was genuine, as it was now, it was contagious. She wasn’t forcing her smile through her idol persona. Well, she had just done her Nico-nii thing, but that was practically a ubiquitous gesture for pretty much every situation. But it was obvious Nico was honestly thrilled to be in the photoshoot. And maybe, perhaps, she was actually happy to be paired with Maki for this part, and not just faking it to get a reaction.

Maki watched as Nico enthusiastically obeyed the instructions from the photographer for a specific pose. She then suggested her own, which was accepted and shot. This was one of the sides of Nico that Maki admired. The Nico who put forth an honest effort to be the idol she dreamed of being. The Nico with no fear or embarrassment in front of the camera. The Nico who cute just by being herself.

Maybe… just as Watson found something he admired and respected in Holmes, so too had Maki found something in Nico. Just as Watson put up with the eccentricities of Holmes, so too did Maki deal with Nico’s. Just as Watson followed Holmes on his adventures, so too did Maki often follow Nico. And just as Watson was the best partner for Holmes… perhaps… just maybe… Maki really was the best partner for Nico?

Nico-chan’s partner… That… wasn’t a completely unappealing concept…

“Maki-chan!”

“Huh?” Maki blinked back to reality.

“Your turn!” Nico skipped over. “Hey, once you’ve taken a few, we should do a couple together!”

“I thought we were all basically separate for this set?”

“Well, yeah, for the magazine, sure.” Nico shrugged. “But we should take a few for fun as well! Watson and Holmes make a good pair and so do we! We definitely need to have a picture together!”

“Alright, alright.” Maki replied, moving in front of the green screen.

Maki smiled and posed as the photographer instructed. However, her smile grew when, after a dozen shots or so, Nico jumped in and grabbed her arm. At least for today, she knew she was happy to play Watson to Nico’s Holmes.

Author’s Note Continued: By the gods, I love these costumes. I can’t wait to add them to my teams, see their pop-ups, listen to their home screen quotes and read their side stories.

As mentioned above, I’d like to write another scene or two that includes these costumes or references them in some way. And thanks to a convo with myonmukyuu concerning an adorable piece she posted recently, I have a pretty good idea of what I want to do with the next scene.

Also, at least for now, I am presenting both Nico and Maki as not being incredibly familiar with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works. Maki may have read a mystery or two of his for a class and either may have seen a Sherlock movie. They know some quotes and general themes, but I don’t currently headcanon either as being mystery buffs.

This headcanon may change should I come across anime-canon-compliant material that says one or both does like Sherlock and/or mysteries. Maybe such a detail will be revealed in the side stories for these cards. If anyone playing the JP version is willing to fill me in early, before these cards hit WW, I’d be quite grateful. And in the light of such information, I may decided to come back and retcon a few things in this scene.

In the meantime, I’m probably going to keep putting off the scene for their new UR pair so I can write another scene for this set.

Edit: I’m not entirely sure where exactly I want this in the timeline. Thus, for now I’m just putting it after Pool Cleaning, such that it might be a continuation of that photohshoot. Not the same day, but maybe that particular photoshoot could end up being a multi-day event? That could open the door to some other ideas and scenes I could add later.

Cards Referenced:

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #How to Handle a Nico #Love Live #fanfic

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chrysalispen · 5 years

Text

Prompt #27 - Palaver

aight y’all i got asked for nero/wol wedding fic and since it fit today’s prompt, here’s the whole thing

ask and ye shall receive, etc etc

=========

“I can’t believe you’re actually letting me go through with this,” Nero said yet again, resuming his agitated back-and-forth pace about the cathedral vestibule. He’d worried his cufflinks undone for the third time in the last half-bell, and he still hadn’t managed to get his cravat fastened. “You’re supposed to save me from my matrimonial fate, and here you are consigning me to it instead.”

“You did this to yourself. Hold still.” It took him a few tries but Cid was finally able to intercept the other man’s circuit over the ancient stones of the church long enough to grasp him by his wrists. “And stop fidgeting with your cuffs, this is the last time I’m fixing them for you.”

“This is all your fault, you know.”

“…How is this my fault?”

“Well, I don’t bloody know, but clearly it’s your fault, Garlond. Otherwise that makes it my fault, and I don’t like that.”

Cid almost laughed, but the wild shine in those eyes told him that would be extremely unwise. He hadn’t seen the other engineer this anxious since he was a young boy; Nero was such a tightly controlled man under most circumstances that it could be difficult to tell what was actually running through his mind, but in this instant the stress had worn down his emotional defenses, and the poor man was perilously close to panic.

So, he decided to pick a fight with him.

“You gave her a ring, bent the knee, the whole nine yalms. What did you expect her to do, turn you down?”

“Yes! No. I… don’t know.” His fingers twitched, obviously wanting to go right back into his hair or to his cuffs, but Cid slapped them away and kept working at the fabric. “The Warrior of Light has any number of admirers and assorted hangers-on, you know that.”

“So she does. And you’ll notice she isn’t marrying any of them.”

“And if something goes wrong? If she decides this isn’t really what she wants?” At his exasperated sigh, Nero snapped, “It could happen and you know it.”

“What could happen?”

“She could simply leave me at the altar, for one.” Cid did laugh, then. Nero shot him a withering glare the likes of which he hadn’t seen since their Academy years, and he noted with satisfaction that the other man had mostly stopped fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Tell me you aren’t actually being serious, Nero. This woman has seen you at your absolute sodding worst. You were her enemy once. You tried to kill us-”

“Point of order, I was not trying to kill her. Or you.” A pause, then the ghost of a smirk. “Perhaps I might have liked to singe your short hairs a bit. The notion of hauling your arrogant carcass about the castrum in one of those claws like a scruffed kitten was half the appeal of deploying them in the first place.”

Cid rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for making my point for me. As you’ve so helpfully demonstrated, Aurelia knows what a pillock you are. She’s seen it for herself.”

“I am not a pillock.”

“Yes, you are, Nero. And she knows it and she still said yes. That has to be worth something.”

“…I suppose,” the engineer groused.

“She’s not going to leave you standing in the vestibule,” Cid grunted, pulling the silk tie around the taller man’s neck as taut as he could manage without choking him, then arranging the knot. “She’s just running a bit late, that’s all. It happens- don’t you dare touch those cuffs.”

Nero scowled, but his hands dropped back down to his sides.

After a few moments spent in silence as Cid examined his work on the cravat with a critical eye, he finally said: “I’m happy for you. You know that, right?”

“Don’t get sentimental. I’m barely keeping my breakfast down as it is.”

“Shut up, you great lout, I’m talking.” He busied himself pinning the Nymeia lily back in its place on Nero’s lapel; it had fallen askew with all the pacing. “We’ve known each other since we were boys and in all this time, I never thought you’d take interest in anything that wasn’t related to magitek. But you weren’t happy in the Empire any more than I was, and lest you think otherwise I know full well that was why you didn’t warn anyone I’d planned to defect. I never understood why you stayed.”

“You know very well why I stayed.”

“Aye, I do now, for all the good it ever did you. You’re happier as a defector than you ever were as a tribunus. Not the least of those reasons being you finally found someone willing to put up with you, and out of all of the women in Eorzea – hells, Hydaelyn – of course it had to be the Warrior of Light. I’ll give you this, you never did do anything by half-measures.”

Nero hesitated, then offered him a rueful, lopsided smile.

“On that much, I suppose we are in agreement.”

Cid reared backwards, clutching his chest in mock surprise. “Hells below, did we actually reach consensus on something? Does this mean marriage might actually turn you agreeable for the nonce?”

“Agreeable? You think a walk down the aisle with the woman I love means I shall march in lockstep with you, Garlond? And risk destroying the fundamental underpinnings of our relationship? Perish the thought.”

Nero’s smile had stretched into that toothy, idiotic grin he normally hated, the one the man used when he was getting ready to tease. But this once, just this once, Cid Garlond grinned back at the cocksure git that passed for his best friend in the world.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Oh, she’s here!” someone gasped out in the foyer. “And the Count’s with her! Places!”

There was the sound of hurried whispers and the patter of feet, and the rustling sound of silk, followed by the deep creak of the doors opening on their ancient hinges.

“I’m going to be ill,” Nero muttered, and further inspection revealed that he was shaking from head to toe. Somehow, Cid marveled, he was actually vibrating in place, as though he were an idling combustion engine.

With a short laugh, he took the man by the elbow and held him fast–both to keep him from making good on his threat, and from bolting for the door like a spooked animal.

“Just mind you don’t ruin your bride’s dress if you are,” he said, “because she’s coming into the foyer as we speak.”

Cid just so happened to be looking right at his friend’s face as aforementioned bride entered the cathedral with Edmont de Fortemps as her escort. He was glad in retrospect that he did, for he was rewarded with the quite remarkable view of watching a man fall in love all over again, in real time.

It was in his eyes, he thought. Despite being rather passionate by nature, Nero was not outwardly expressive when he did not care to be - lessons, Cid assumed, he’d learned during his wheat-counting days. But those frosty eyes had turned bright and soft and warm, like the spring sky at midday. He had stopped shaking, and the tension in his slender frame had all but disappeared.

All he appeared to see in that moment was the Warrior of Light–who was herself, admittedly, quite a vision. Jandelaine had overseen her preparations personally, being a good friend of hers, and the eccentric aesthetician had outdone himself this time in every sense of the word. He had arranged her hair in a long spill of golden curls over one shoulder, interwoven with orange blossoms and forget-me-nots secured into myriad small braids throughout her coiffure. Combined with the lavish, lace-trimmed dress she wore, it was a sight to knock the breath from the lungs.

The old Count was murmuring something to her, something that made her smile, laugh softly, and kiss him on the cheek with the sort of familiar fondness reserved for parental figures–that was right, he remembered; in the eyes of Ishgardian law she was technically a Fortemps, though he was fair certain that the man’s fatherly affection for her was in no wise any sort of mummery.

Edmont dropped his arm from hers and stepped back, leaning on his walking stick. She approached the two men on slightly slowed, hesitant footsteps. Her eyes were fixed on Nero, and they were very blue and very wide.

After a moment, she smiled her usual smile- albeit with perhaps a touch of shyness- and Cid heard an exhalation at his side.

“See?” he said. He released his death grip on Nero’s arm. “You’ll be fine. Now go see to her. If you need me then give a shout, but I don’t think you will.”

Almost instantly, it seemed, it was just the two of them, the sound of retreating footsteps, and a closing door. Music played from the hall beyond, muffled and ponderous, and they regarded each other in a sort of awed and awkward silence.

Then Aurelia grinned from ear to ear and started to snicker in a decidedly unladylike fashion.

“Gods,” she blurted. “I feel ridiculous. Look at me. I look like a window advertisement for lampshades sold to bored Ul'dahn housewives.”

“You didn’t have to say yes when I asked, you know.”

“Of course I did. I couldn’t very well turn you down after you were half-dead from panic just trying to ask at all. As it was, you almost immediately started trying to talk me out of it.”

Nero glared at her. “I was nowhere near that bad.”

“Oh yes you were. You were being very reasonable about it all, too, coming up with a half dozen perfectly good reasons why I’d be stark raving mad to even consider accepting your proposal.” The edges of her smile softened. “But anyroad, we’re here now.”

“So we are,” he said.

There wasn’t much left to say that hadn’t already been said, and Nero wasn’t entirely sure he could find the words to say even if that weren’t the case. He could feel the anxiety creeping up on him again by ilms, running its invisible fingers up his spine.

She must have noticed; he saw her expression darken a bit with her concern.

“Are you all right? You don’t look well.”

He began to say of course I’ll be all right, let’s just get on with it, but what came out instead was:

“Seven hells, all this godsdamned palaver for two rings and five minutes of vows. Are you quite sure you’d not rather elope?”

“Right,” Aurelia snorted. “We can run away to Dravania and get married by the moogles. Though I’m not sure ‘now you may kiss the bride, kupo!’ is terribly binding in the eyes of the law.”

“And I don’t know that goblins actually have marriage traditions of any sort, so I suppose that settles it. Bugger.” He ran a thoughtful hand over his currently clean-shaven jaw.

“I suppose we’d best–oh, Nero, wait!” She reached into his pockets, heedless of his sudden flush. “Your gloves.”

“…I’d hoped you might forget about those.”

“No, you have to wear them, at least for the first bit. Here, hold out your hands, I’ll put them on.”

Biting back a sigh, he obediently held out his left hand.

She bent over his forearm, one of her slim healer’s hands bracing his wrist delicately in one hand as she slid the kidskin over his fingers, smoothing it out with the deft and gentle touch of a woman well accustomed to such trivial luxuries, and it struck the engineer then just how strangely intimate the act was. Such a simple thing, the act of putting a glove on his bare hand, but something he knew no one else would have done in quite the same way.

Once she’d fastened the little pearl-button closure to fit the glove properly, Aurelia lifted his hand, and placed a small kiss to the smooth skin of his inner wrist, where the base of his palm met leather. Intimate, indeed. He swallowed, hearing the sound of it click in his ears.

“Hand me the other one?” he asked.

She did. Hastily he slipped the remaining glove onto his other hand, hoping she wouldn’t notice how much she’d flustered him.

“You know,” she murmured, her grin edging into something almost wicked, “that kiss would have had the ton all aflutter and speculating, back home.”

“Would it?”

“Mm. Absolutely scandalous in polite society, as it happens.”

“Us? Polite society? And here I thought we were just a couple of especially dodgy imperial defectors borrowing Saint Reymanaud’s on a lark.”

Aurelia’s soft laugh echoed against the stones beneath their feet.

“I think that Halone, on the wild off chance she might actually exist beyond the fond hopes of the masses, would be willing to forgive a couple of godless heretics just this once given their history of service to Ishgard,” she said. “So, Scaeva- are you ready for us to go make an utter spectacle of ourselves in front of the assembled leadership of an entire continent?”

Beneath the finery and the fuss and bother of the event, he could still catch that lavender scent about her, and her smile was the same smile it had always been–the smile he especially loved to see when he knew it was meant just for him. Bit by bit the not-so-secret fears he’d harbored that she might renounce him publicly at the altar, or simply not show at all, dwindled to nothing.

For all his outward self-assurance, Nero knew he wasn’t really worthy of her: not just as the Warrior of Light, but as the very mortal woman she was. He was painfully aware of that fact, had always been aware of it. But that said, neither was anyone else he could have named. As Garlond had said, she had her choice and she’d chosen him, and that had to count for something.

Besides which, he loved her. And maybe that was a place to start.

With that thought squarely in mind, he held out his hand, and let her clasp it in her smaller one.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said aloud. “Shall we?”

She nodded, still smiling.

“On my count,” she said. “One, two-”

And beneath the Fury’s watchful gaze, Nero Scaeva and Aurelia Laskaris stepped across the threshold together, hand in trembling hand.

#FFxivWrite2019 #aurelia laskaris #nero scaeva #nero/wol #this may be the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written but f it

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