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punchdrunkdoc · 1 year

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Part 2, Chapter 7

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics - *UPDATED*

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PART 2

Chapter 7

“We found something. More accurately, we found someone.”

The call from Yelena interrupted Calina’s research session. It was Wednesday afternoon, and she was sat at the dining room table listening to the patter of rain against the window while she investigated pheromones and Governors.

She was multi-tasking on two separate mysteries at once: Who was making the fear pheromones that Matt was chasing all over the city? And why had someone tried to make her assassinate the Governor of New York state?

Unfortunately, she wasn’t getting far on either front. So Yelena’s call was less an interruption and more of a welcome distraction.

“Who did you find?” Calina asked.

“Katya’s handler. The one that was still giving her orders after Dreykov died. His name is Maxim Volkov and we’ve tracked him to a house outside Washington D.C. It seems to be his main residence in the States. Do you want in?”

“In?”

“Yeah, in on the mission. We have the extraction planned for tomorrow night, then we’ll start his interrogation the next day. Our intel suggests that he has something to do with what happened to you, so we thought you might want to be part of it.”

She did.

And she didn’t.

The part of her that was angry - the part that never quite went away no matter how many punching bags she hit - wanted revenge. It wanted to face the man or the men responsible for what happened to her, get answers…and make them pay.

But she didn’t want to indulge that side of herself.

It was the darkness buried within her - the darkness she’d alluded to with Matt the other night. The wicked, rage-filled blight on her soul.

Matt had found a way to live with his darkness. To harness it in the fight for good. But she wasn’t so sure she could do the same. Her darkness was cultivated from decades of abuse at the hands of the Red Room. It was formed of years of pain and loathing and fury - for everything that had been done to her and her sisters. And everything they’d been forced to do against their will.

It was a relatively small part of her, but it had a gravity that belied its size. Like a black hole, always threatening to consume her.

She’d given into it once, when they’d first been freed from the serum. And she’d swore never to do so again. Instead, she’d buried it deep and vowed to move on. To build a life of hope and joy, instead of anger and shame.

She wanted to concentrate on that new life.

But it was hard to explain that to Yelena without sounding judgemental. Without sounding like she was criticising the choices the other Widows had made. So she didn't even try. All she said was, “I’ll think about it.”

The next phone call came an hour later.

“Hey, what are you up to?” Matt asked.

This was the third day in a row that he’d called her from work. He usually had an excuse - asking what she wanted him to pick up for dinner, reminding her to take the garbage out - but then he would linger on the call, and the two of them would chat for a while.

About everything and nothing.

She told herself not to read too much into it. That he was just bored at work, or needed a distraction from a difficult case. But she couldn’t help but wonder if he…missed her? That maybe the hours between saying goodbye in the morning and hello in the evening were too long for him?

Just like they were for her.

“I'm doing some research,” she answered. “I’m trying to work out why someone would want Governor Benson dead. I thought if I could figure that out, I might be able to figure out who gave me the order to kill him.”

“Any luck?”

“No. There’s too many possibilities. He’s made a lot of controversial policy choices since getting elected, so there’s plenty of people gunning for him for politically. Then there’s his history in the Army - there’s a chance that the hit was a retaliation for a past mission. And his private life is a mess. He cheated on his wife with an intern, so maybe she wanted revenge.”

Matt hummed in agreement. “Wouldn’t be the first time. But I can see why you’re frustrated.”

“Yeah.”

“A workout will fix that. We’re still on for Fogwell’s tonight, right? That’s, um, why I called.”

And there it was. Today’s excuse.

Calina smiled. “Yes.”

They’d made the plan last night - not because her anger demanded another outlet, but because it was a good way to get her some exercise and get her out of the house without ending up somewhere too public.

“Good. I thought we might mix things up this time. You up for a sparring session in the ring?”

Calina didn’t have to think about it. The chance to pit her skills against Matt again in a completely harmless, no-stakes scenario? To have the excuse to be near him and touch him…?

No brainer.

“Count me in.”

———

“Foggy and Karen will still be in Josie’s by the time we finish - what do you think about joining them afterwards?” Matt asked as he emerged from the changing room.

She’d met him outside the gym ten minutes ago. He was still in his work clothes and she was swallowed under one of his jackets, the hood up to fight against the rain and any prying eyes. The smile he’d greeted her with when he spotted her was bright enough to make her forget all about the miserable weather. And now his offer to join his friends for drinks warmed her from the inside out.

She felt like she was becoming a part of the gang. “Yeah,” she responded. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Matt swung over the ropes surrounding the boxing ring and held them up for her to duck under. “I’ll try not to wear you out too much beforehand.”

She laughed as she joined him in the ring. “Famous last words, old man.”

“Old man?” Matt spluttered in outrage. But Calina knew from his wide smile that he was enjoying her teasing. After days of her being morose and angry, her good mood probably made a nice change.

And she was in a good mood. Her earlier frustration at the lack of progress with her research had vanished with Matt’s offer of a sparring session. She’d been looking forward to playing with him all afternoon.

Play.

It was another new experience. Training and sparring had always been serious endeavours growing up. There was no such thing as play-fighting in the Red Room. Every bout involved pain and the threat of critical injury.

She couldn’t wait to just have fun with him.

She brought her hands up in a defensive pose and mirrored Matt’s movements as he circled around her. “Yeah. You’re what? Late thirties, early forties?”

“I’m 33.” He struck at her, a slow jab that she could have seen coming from space. She dodged it with ease and landed a light punch over his left kidney.

“Really? You look a lot older.” She whipped her leg up and tapped him on the upper arm with her foot. “Its just as well you can’t see your reflection in the mirror. You’d be horrified by all the wrinkles and sagging skin.”

She was joking, of course. She knew exactly how old he was thanks to Anya’s research. And he wore those years well - she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.

Matt laughed, then spun in a crouch, trying to sweep her legs from beneath her. Again, his move was slow and well-telegraphed.

Calina jumped over his leg, then rested her hands on her hips. “Come on, Matt. Are we gonna spar or just mess about?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I started having second thoughts about this. I thought it might remind you too much of our real fight.”

She returned his smile. “That’s sweet, but you don’t need to worry - I’m not that fragile. I want to do this.” She thought it might help, actually. That it would serve to replace those awful memories from three weeks ago with something much more positive and enjoyable.

“You sure?” Matt asked, bring his hands back up.

She nodded, matching his pose. “Sure.”

“Okay, then. Bring it.”

She shook her head. “Uh-uh. I’m a defensive fighter. You come here.” She slowly curled her index finger into her palm, beckoning him closer.

He grinned. And launched his attack.

There were no telegraphed moves this time. And his lumbering slowness was replaced with his usual lightning-quick speed. But she met him, move for move. She blocked or evaded each of his hits and kicks and followed up with the occasional jab of her own. And when he moved from boxing to wrestling, she flowed out of his reach and turned his momentum against him, flipping him to the ground as often as he managed to flip her.

It was exhilarating. They were so in sync. Their styles so complimentary.

Of course, she knew from painful experience that when he wasn’t pulling his punches she was no match for his power - but she also knew that he struggled to get near her when she utilised all her defensive training.

And he struggled to hold on to her when he finally did catch her - like now. He had her arms pinned behind her back, one large hand wrapped around each of her slender wrists. “Gotcha,” he whispered in her ear.

She paused for a moment, enjoying the feel of him against her back, the warmth radiating from his skin and his breath against her neck…

Then she moved. She relaxed her body, bent her knees and ducked under his right arm. This unbalanced him, and a quick shove against his side caused him to roll away from her and across the mat. She stood up to her full height and grinned down at him. “You were you saying?”

He returned her grin as he got to his feet. “Nicely done. What was that?”

“Aikido. When the trainers in the Red Room realised I wasn’t as strong as the other girls, they brought in an Aikido specialist. Its a discipline that focuses on defence.”

“It obviously works for you.” He sounded so…impressed. And coming from a fighter as talented as Matt, it made her feel ridiculously proud.

And it made her want to show off even more.

A few minutes later, she got her chance. Matt came at her, crouched to land a jab against her flank. She took the hit, and used his bent leg like a step to climb up behind him. She hooked her left leg over his left shoulder and used her momentum to spin her body around his neck, so that when he collapsed to the floor on his back, she landed on top of him - a hand at his neck and her knee on his chest pinning him in place. Her other hand hit the mat by his head and she froze there, her face hovering inches above his.

A lock of hair escaped her ponytail and fell forward to brush against his cheek. He lifted his hand to tuck the strand behind her ear, then ran his fingers down the line of her jaw. “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

“Wh-what?” she whispered, stunned by his quiet words. His other hand came up to her waist, as if to steady her, his fingertips pressing into her skin.

Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, and Matt’s eyes dropped to her mouth as if he could see the movement…

She sprang to her feet and backed away, suddenly feeling flustered.

Matt sat up, and ran his hand through his hair, looking equally unsettled. “Sorry, I, um, mean the way you move. When you’re fighting. Its so graceful and fluid. I was just, um, admiring it. One fighter to another. Nothing more.”

He was lying. There was more.

There was much more, Calina was sure of it.

The way he’d looked up at her just now, his lips parted, and his eyes shining with wonder…the gentle way he'd grazed the skin of her jaw, and the way his other hand had clutched at her waist…it felt like so much more.

It felt like…attraction.

And she had no idea how to process it.

“Calina?” Matt asked.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, realising she hadn’t responded to his compliment. “Thank you. You’re pretty graceful yourself.” She tightened her ponytail and adjusted her top. “That was fun. But I think I need a break.”

“Yeah. Okay. No problem.” He pulled his bag closer to him from where it waited at the edge of the ring, then grabbed the water bottle from inside. He downed half of it it one go while she tentatively took a seat next to him.

He offered her the other bottle from his bag and she accepted it with a shy, “Thanks.”

She didn’t know how to act around him now. It was the first time since meeting Matt Murdock that she was certain he was attracted to her. And it made her wonder whether her one-sided feelings were maybe not so one-sided after all.

And with that thought, came another much more staggering realisation.

She loved him.

This wasn’t just friendship. This wasn’t just gratitude or affection or respect. It was all of those things, and infinitely more. She loved him. She was in love with him. The merest possibility of her feelings being reciprocated crystallised them in her mind after weeks - months - of uncertainty.

She loved him.

“Are you okay,” Matt asked, and she realised she’d been staring off into space for several minutes.

She laughed. She wasn’t okay. She was having a life-altering epiphany in the middle of an abandoned, run-down gym.

“I’m fi-” She glanced over at him and stopped mid-sentence. He must have removed his sweat-drenched shirt while she was distracted with her thoughts, because his bare torso was now on display as he stretched out on his back, his head resting on his crooked arm.

But that wasn’t what had caused the words to die in her mouth. It was the horrible blue-black bruising spread across his left flank. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

She swivelled around to face him and crossed her legs. Then she touched her fingers as lightly as she could to his injured skin. “This. Who did this?”

He brought his hand down to cover hers. “It’s nothing. Just some thug last night.”

“Jesus, Matt! And you still suggested sparring with me? You must be in so much pain.”

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

She studied the rest of his bared skin, seeing the evidence of that with her own eyes. Scars criss-crossed and marred his body. Some were neat, showing signs of suturing, whilst others were more ragged and raised.

He must have sensed what she was looking at, because he rubbed his hand over one of the thicker, more gnarled wounds and tried to make a joke of it. “Not a pretty sight, I guess. Must go well with all my wrinkles and sagging skin.”

She gently stroked his bruised skin. “You look like a survivor. Like a warrior. I wish I looked the same.”

He tilted his head to look in her direction. “What do you mean?”

“I was never allowed to keep my scars. The nature of my missions meant that I always had to look perfect. Flawless. So the Red Room used the best surgeons and the most cutting-edge laser technology to remove them.”

She held out her left arm. “A few years ago, I was caught in the blast of a car bomb in Peru. A shard of shrapnel the size of a golfball was impaled here.” She took his hand and ran it over the smooth, unmarked skin of her forearm.

She pulled the strap of her lycra top to the side and placed his hand on her collarbone. “I took a strike from a machete here. The blade hit the bone and got stuck - its the only reason I wasn’t slice in two. That, and the fact that the man who attacked me didn’t sharpen his knives often enough.”

Matt said nothing, just explored her undamaged skin with his fingertips.

“All those wounds,” she continued. “All those experiences, and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing to prove I survived.”

“You’re alive,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. “That’s pretty good proof.”

“I guess. And maybe its good that I don’t have any physical reminders about those missions. The car bomb was actually set by one of the other Widows. And the man with the machete…he wasn’t the bad guy in that scenario. Those aren’t encounters I’m proud of. I just hate that removing my scars was one more way the Red Room controlled me. One more way in which they removed any sense of…individuality.”

“Individuality?”

“Yeah. We were all so…homogenous…to them. We were all dressed the same way. We all had the same sheets on our bed and the same colour toothbrush. They even braided our hair the same way. We had no personality.” Calina pulled her hair forward to play with the long strands. “The first thing I wanted to do when I got to New York was cut off all my hair. I didn’t want to ever have to braid it again.”

“What stopped you?”

Calina let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t know how to find a hairdresser.”

Matt reached up and took a lock of hair. He rubbed the silky strand between his fingers. “I’m glad you didn’t. I like your hair.”

“Thank you. I like it now too. And I don’t want to cut it - I just want to find my style, you know? My taste. I want to feel like this is my body. Scars, and all.”

“I get it.” Matt slide his hand from her collarbone to the back of her shoulder, to the small scar that was hidden there. “And you have this one, remember?”

Calina moved her hand to the same spot, her fingers tangling with his as she traced the tiny mark. “Oh, I forgot about that.” It was the wound she’d received from Katya in Seoul. The one that Matt had helped her dress when she’d returned to New York.

“How did that happen?” he asked. “It wasn’t from falling onto a broken bottle of glass. I knew that even at the time.”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” He smiled. “But I figured - no, I hoped - you would eventually tell me the truth about it.”

She smiled back at him. “It happened in South Korea.”

“You went to South Korea that week?” he sounded astonished. She got the feeling he rarely - if ever - left the country.

“Yeah. Katya - do you remember her from that night?” He nodded, so she continued. “It was a rescue mission for her. She was still under control of the serum so we went to free her.” She explained about her infiltration of the Ambassador’s mansion and her fight with the other Widow. “I guess if I was to have only one scar, that’s a good one to have. It came from doing something I chose to do.”

“And it came from doing something good. From helping someone,” Matt added.

“Yeah.” She ran her finger over a small puckered wound on his right upper chest. “What about you? How did you get this one?” she asked softly.

“Bullet. I was shot rescuing hostages from The Hand.”

“From who?”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re gone.”

She moved her fingers to a nearby wound, this one larger and angrier-looking. “And this?”

“Arrow.”

“An arrow? Who uses an arrow?”

He smiled. “Ninjas.”

“You were shot by a bow-and-arrow wielding ninja?” It was her turn to sound astonished.

He laughed. “Yeah. My life got very…strange…for a while.”

She looked for another scar, starting to enjoy this little game of theirs - not hearing about him being hurt, obviously. But she liked getting glimpses of his past. There was still so much about him that she didn’t know.

She traced the long oblique line across his pec. There was a matching one on the other side. “How about these?”

“Believe it or not, they were from another Ninja. He carried a blade on a chain.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

Her hand moved lower, slowly gliding down over his ribs and onto his abdomen, where a thin, barely noticeable scar resided. “And this?”

He swallowed sharply, and she felt his muscles jump beneath her wandering fingers.

Another sign of his attraction.

It was intoxicating, seeing the evidence of his desire. It made her feel strong. Bold.

For the first time since she met him, her shyness deserted her.

And for the first time in her life, she acted on impulse. She moved towards him, one hand still resting on his stomach, the other braced by his head.

And then she leaned closer…

And closer…

Until her lips were inches from his…

————–

Chapter 8

(Check out the references for Calina’s moves in the ring)

Taglist: @hollandorks @yanna-banana @stilldreaming666 @tearosearts-blog @chezagnes @freckledbabyyy @acharliecoxedfan

If you’d like to be added, let me know!

#Daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #marvel's daredevil #daredevil x original female character #tabula rasa #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x original character #Matt Murdock

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maxwell-grant · 2 years

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What a lot of people don’t seem to understand about Goncharov is that it isn’t just “another Scorsese gangster film” (which in itself is a pretty gross oversimplification), it was a crucial part of the pivotal point of his career as a director. It was Scorsese applying everything he learned about effective low-budget filmmaking from Roger Corman (who co-produced Goncharov as well, albeit uncredited) during the making of Boxcar Bertha, as well as applying John Cassavetes’ advice on making the genre films he wanted to make rather than the more documentary/autobiography works he’d done so far.

With Corman’s assistance (himself notorious for being able to stitch new films together out of scrapped footage from old ones), in 1973 he was able to finish and release two films: Mean Streets, and Goncharov, both films sharing actors, sets, even small bits of footage. Mean Streets happened to be the classic that would launch his career, and Goncharov would remain mostly forgotten until now.

Now, we all know of course that Goncharov got tangled up in international copyright issues from the get-go, with the 1983 and the 1996 recolors only further complicating things as the movie got passed around to different studios, and by that point there wasn’t much Scorsese could even do to get the film back and he was tangled up in a lot of other projects (although some theorize this as one of the reasons why Scorsese would later go on to notoriously champion film restoration and preservation, knowing firsthand what it’s like to have a passion project fall through the cracks and be taken away from you).

Still, the movie did have a limited release in the US and Canada (with a pretty strong fanbase in Winnipeg, actually, for the past decades most of the available copies of Goncharov came from VHS releases in Winnipeg, although very poorly preserved), and it wasn’t terribly well received at the time either. Even if these odd strokes of fate hadn’t destroyed Goncharov’s release I doubt the film would have fared that well much the same.

Where as Mean Streets reads like a blueprint for Scorcese’s gritty masculine hits like Taxi Driver and Goodfellas, Goncharov in many ways feels more in line with Scorsese’s more oddball projects like King of Comedy and Hugo, actually it really does have more in common with Hugo than his other crime films. I think part of why Goncharov’s become popular on Tumblr lately is because it’s remarkably, whimsical? It’s a weird way to describe a movie that gets so dark but, it feels way more grounded in fantasy than his other works (it even has that clock motif that Scorsese would later use in Hugo)

The name itself is a tribute to filmmaker Vasily Goncharov, a film pioneer from the Soviet Union. Goncharov was the first filmmaker to record a film using two cameras and use sound effects, he’d directed the first feature film made in Russian history as well as the first blockbuster with 1812. This was the period where Scorsese was hanging out with De Palma and it shows because there’s a lot of scenes in Goncharov that are explicitly in tribute to Goncharov’s works like Ivan the Terrible and Khas Bulat.

Some of you are wondering where do the queer elements in Goncharov come from or why is Katya unusually pro-active for a Scorsese female lead (or even why this film has a female lead at all when so many of his other works don’t really have one), that’s a side effect of this movie’s debt to Goncharov’s works, particularly Charodeyka (The Enchantress). Katya is basically Scorsese’s take on the Nastasya / Charodeyka character.

In the fifteenth century, Nikita, the vice-regent of Novgorod, and his son Yuri fall in love with Nastasya, the owner of a local inn. But Nastasya is actually the sorceress Charodeyka. The local deacon Mamirov tells Nikita’s wife about Nastasya, and the wife poisons her. She dies in Yuri’s arms, and the enraged Nikita kills Yuri - Jess Nevins, on Charodeyka (1909), description taken from The Encyclopedia of Pulp Heroes

Albeit described as “evil” and being depicted as a witch, Charodeyka bears no blame for any of the tragedy that happens in the movie, she just happens to be a beautiful woman targeted by dangerous affections of men and women alike (the movie does go some way towards showing it isn’t just jealousy that drives Nikita’s wife to murder Charodeyka) while bearing a secret of her own. I’m not saying Charodeyka was a queer tragedy by any means, but it is a tragedy of doomed love affairs and toxic family relationships and that seems to be what Goncharov’s playing with (Scorsese’s Goncharov cut out the implied incest and I’d say that was for the better).

This is kind of why Katya Goncharova kinda feels a little disconnected from Goncharov’s narrative up until the point they first meet and their fates intertwine tragically. Instead of a witch, she’s a femme fatale, and it damns her much the same just as Goncharov’s past catches up to him. It isn’t quite a remake but it’s taking a lot from Charodeyka and Ivan the Terrible and Vasily Goncharov’s other works, and Scorsese didn’t quite manage to blend these influences and tributes smoothly into the story, which is why the movie is kind of all over-the-place in a way that makes describing it make it seem like it’s an epistolary shitpost, which it very much isn’t.

It’s, among all the other things people have described it as, Scorsese’s oddball love letter to his influences as well as an important yet forgotten parts of film history (it’s not for nothing that Goncharov attempts suicide by train). Obviously, for many reasons, it was never going to catch on the way Mean Streets did, but it is fascinating nonetheless and I’m glad to see it’s been rediscovered.

#goncharov #martin scorcese #cinema #robert de niro #roger corman

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 2 months

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Random question but you’re my favourite writer and I was just wondering while I was rereading forgotten ghost, what pairing with Nat do you wish that MCU had done more with? Mines for sure Nat and Wanda (or Carol tbf) like I wish we saw more girls taking care of each other scenes.

Aaaaand same question for Katya, which character do you wish you had wrote more with Katya but couldn’t because of the plot? For me it’s Valkyrie like it’s unconventional but I just think the two would get on so well when Thor invites her over. Or maybe Yelena x Katya bonding!

PS: Not dragging your work at all, I totally get why there hasn’t be and your plot is so perfect!

Thank you so much!! 🥰❤️ Tbh I wish all the women had more bonding time with each other, but since Marvel hates strong women, they didn't bother to create female friendships. Nat and Wanda should have been written in more depth for sure. She could have helped her so well processing her grief and her guilt. Like a mentor turned best friend.

As for Kat, I'm not sure 🤔 I never thought about Valkyrie, but I do feel like they would think the other was so cool. I could see that friendship happen for sure. I kinda hate how I set up this tight friendship between Kat and Wanda in the book and then forgot to really develop it further 😬 I just forgot because even tho I don't mind Wanda, I'm also not the biggest fan of her. But also, Kat and Maria would have slayed

#katanswers #katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova

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vitamin-zeeth · 1 month

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OKAY!!

First question, how did Fig Kristen and Adaine find themselves in Fabian’s crew? Cuz I know Gorgug was a childhood friend and Riz just failed at robbing Bill Seacaster, but I wonder what Bill or Fabian saw in the other three

The Kalvaxus plot!! Since the bad kids are pirates, and they travel a lot, would it make more sense if the 7 maidens were from different nations and are getting taken to Solace for the ritual?

AELWYN. How is Aelwyn doing. She’s alone with her parents now, which is generally a bad thing cuz the Abernants suck. How did she get wrapped up with Penelope

Finally, are there people out looking for Kristen and Adaine? The church would probably search for their chosen, but the Abernants kinda hate their daughter. Buuuuut it would look bad if they didn’t at least appear like they were searching for her, right?

OK SOOOO I think fig Adaine and Kristen probably found themselves in the crew because they fucked something up. They like caused a massive explosion or something and it made a whole scene kinda like when Adaine stole a book from the library and then immediately had a panic attack but more destructive. Fig convinced Adaine to pull some sort of piratey stunt cause she thinks that's just what pirates do and it just spiralled out of control and Kristen sort of stumbled into it halfway through and immediately made the whole thing 10x worse but bill appreciated their complete reckless lack of forethought and also their clear magical ability and introduced them to the rest of the crew (I think this happened all like on the same day riz got added as well they basically got stuck in pirate detention together)

KALVAXUS!!! I think the deal would be that the whole plot with him takes place on leviathan instead of solace so instead of the prophecy being a king and queen crowned in solace one more it's a new pirate king being crowned. The Seven get picked because it's supposed to be maidens from across the lands of Spyre so they have to travel to figure out who had been kidnapping these important girls across the kingdoms (penny is from Solace, Zelda is from Leviathan, Katya is from highcourt, ostentatia is from the mountains of chaos, antiope is from the Baronies, Danielle is from sylvaire and Sam is from an underwater kingdom in the Celestine sea) and there's an attempt to kidnap adaine as well cause fallinel only half counts since its an island off spyre, so they don't NEED her for the ritual but it would make it more secure. Penelope is helping cause of the promise of power, she plans on being crowned pirate king (kalvaxus leaves her behind last minute and crowns himself)

Aelwyn is still living with the abernants in fallinel, Penelope went to her for help because she knew adaine had left and she could use this dishonour to convince Aelwyn there was a way to regain her family's status and reputation through helping kalvaxus. She spends a lot of time traveling and helping to kidnap the maidens with Penelope BUT she doesn't let the abernants know what she's doing. There is for sure evernant undertones (I think thats the ship name idk but ykwim).

There are definitely people looking for adaine and Kristen, more Kristen than adaine as I think the abernants would rather go the "our daughter was kidnapped/enchanted/etc" route than actually finding her, but aelwyn and Penelope and the others involved in the kvx plot are all looking out for her. The second they go into solace Kristen is for sure being searched for, it's a huge huge deal there and it's very hard to keep her from being found and taken back, but everywhere else it's pretty much fine. Anyone part of the helioic church would have heard for sure and the governments of the different nations would be aware but they wouldn't necessarily care so much, more along the lines of if they get arrested/brought in front of the government for any reason there's a chance they'll return her to the church so that the church owes them rather than people actively searching for her.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE QUESTIONS RAINE THIS WAS SO FUN TO TALK ABOUT!!!!!!

#i love this silly little au #also this was an excellent means of procrastinating doing work this took me so long lmao #asks #bad kids pirate au #d20 #raine tag

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banditllamas · 10 months

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Chismest Dialogue (Part 2)

Part 1 here. Lotta Lori in this one.

Continuing on, Mirriam has a little more to say, she'll get excited about blasting something if you find Elara after attempting the overseer song.

Bard: “I found an astronomer who wants to take down the factory.” Mirriam: “So what do I blast?” Bard: “What?” Mirriam: “She’s a scientist right?” Mirriam: “So she knows where to hit to knock out the whole system!” Mirriam: “What do I blast?!”

Beth's got some things to say about Elara, makes sense, we do have our meetings there.

Hint:

“Lotta fun characters come through here, oh yeah.” “That astronomer from outta town’s always here. Middle of the night.” “Like midnight till 5AM. Always orders the same thing.” “Why? Who knows. Who cares.”

“You part of that group that meets here every night?” “Ain’t gonna lie… you are a very suspicious bunch.” “Don’t bother me none, though.”

Beth and Tanya will gossip about all the recruits as you help them; For Winston:

Beth: “‘Parently the purple whiny guy took up care of the town stray.” Tanya: “WHAAAaaaaat! Ya don’t say…” Tanya: “That punk ain’t cared for a thing in his life, Beth!” Beth: “Just what I heard.”

For Peter/Mirriam:

Beth: "Well, apparently that guy on the roof found himself a girlfriend." Tanya: “Gaaaaaaaaaaasp! Ya don’t say…” Beth: “Something like that, anyway.” Beth: “They go Traipsin’ about at 9PM.” Beth: “Girl’s new in town. Nobody knows her.” Beth: “Never thought I’d see the day…”

Talking to Tanya:

Beth: “Well, the astronomer from outta town is scheming something.” Tanya: “Scheming? Whaddaya mean, Beth?” Beth: “Something big.” Beth: “She’s gonna try to overthrow the factory.” Tanya: “Whaaaaaaat??? That’s crazy talk!”

When you have all the recruits she has more to say to Tanya:

Beth: “Apparently the astronomer is gonna try her factory takedown soon.” Tanya: “Whaaaaaaat??? That wasn’t some kinda joke?” Beth: “Don’t think so. She's crazy.” Tanya: “That’s scary, huh?” Tanya: “What would be left without the factory?” Beth: “No idea.” Beth: “But I'm a little excited to see.” Tanya: “You’re crazy too, Beth.” Tanya: “What else is new.

Katya also appears in the diner around the same time our subterfuge group does.

“I always see weirdos here early in the morning…” “Like… plotting something?” “Are you one of them?”

Lori has a lot to say about Elara! Probably meant as tips but she mentions her a LOT.

Hints:

“Oh evenin’…” “Just doin’ my nightly sweeps!” “Us late nighters got a special bond eh?” “Ya ever get a chance to meet the astronomer?” “Never talked to ‘er myself, but i’d give ‘er a knowin’ nod when we pass!”

“Bein’ out as late as me, ya see some funny stuff!” “Like that astronomer from out’a town, eh?” “She goes to Beth's diner every midnight!” “Only time she’s ever in town, don’cha know…”

“Wonder what’s keeping the astronomer up so late…” “She’s not one to stop and chat don’cha know!” “She’s only got eyes for her telescope… or Beth's diner.”

Thats not all, she goes to Beth's diner right after Elara leaves.

Lori: “Ohai there Beth! Just the usual today.” Beth: “Same as always.” Lori: “Astronomer come by again last night?” Beth: “Uh huh. same as always.” Beth: “Same as always.” Beth: “Same as always…” Beth: “Same…” Beth: “…” Lori: “…”

Lori: “That astronomer gal is just so mysterious, don’cha know…” Lori: “Wonder what she sees up there what with all the smog?” Beth: “I just take orders.” Beth: “Heck if I know.”

Beth: “So how's the weather out there?” Lori: “Ah well. Ya know…” Lori: “Cold.” Beth: “Yeah.”

Thats all for now, If people wanna know about the other npcs in Chismest i'm happy to post them.

#wandersong #wandersong elara #wandersong beth #wandersong lori #my layout for the images messed up? so I had to take screenshots of them grouped. hope they aren't too compressed #long post

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valya-dudycz-lupescu · 1 year

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A Little Goncharov for Thanksgiving

I learned about Goncharov the way I learn about most memes and pop culture, from my teenagers. In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, we had a group chat spring up on Discord that included two family friends who were going to be joining us for the holiday from out of town. One of the topics of conversation turned to Goncharov, the imaginary film around which an active Tumblr fan community had sprung up, as if it had been a real, little-known cult classic from 1973 made by Martin Scorsese.

It became a fun creative exercise—in the middle of the day, one of the kids would send a question about Goncharov: “What do you think about the relationship between Katya and Sofia?” or “What did you make of the clock tower imagery?” or “Goncharov… iphone or android guy?” To which someone else would playfully answer.

This same kind of thing was happening on a massive scale on Tumblr, where artists created movie posters and promotional materials, composers posted songs and soundtracks, people posted deleted scenes and script fragments. There are reviews and academic papers, fictitious Wikipedia and IMDb listings, and A LOT of fan art.

Lynda Carter posted a photo on her Tumblr with Henry Winkler that she captioned, “Me and ‘The Fonz’ at the premiere of Goncharov (1973) at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.”

Discussions popped up about the characters and who would play them in the reboot. Posts were shared hundreds, then thousands of times. A Goncharov (1973) Lore Google Doc and Discord server were created to help keep the content organized.

Our family’s fan-favorite character was Ice-Pick Joe, so I wrote “Musings on Ice-Pick Joe” in between chopping veggies for stuffing and waiting for the sweet potatoes to roast, complete with some AI-generated art. That was four days ago, and the post has been liked and shared more than I anticipated, and I keep thinking about why that is.

Conversations around Goncharov have continued, and I find myself wondering what it is about this moment in time and this type of activity that continues to capture so many people’s imagination and engagement?

Tumblr is a hub for public fandom culture and community in a way that the other social media platforms are not. It’s where you can find discourse and fanfiction/fanart for almost anything.

Still, this is a little different and on a much larger scale. At a time when people are looking for Twitter alternatives, with the stress and joy of holidays approaching, what is drawing so many people in?

We talked about this over Thanksgiving: the way Goncharov allowed people low-stakes permission to create, to play to their particular strengths, to connect with other people, to escape reality for a moment, to build a new community. We talked about the shortcomings and challenges we saw: power dynamics, issues of race, etc.

It’s an evolving experiment, and as such, it has been shaped by the many variables involved and course-corrected each time someone notices a gap or opportunity: What would a musical look like? What if some of the actors had gone on Sesame Street or the Muppet Show? What if Gonzo played Goncharov and Miss Piggy played Katya? What would the remake look like set in 1980s NYC? What recipes might be created for the Goncharov cookbook? (I remember how much fun we had making the Forking Good cookbook.) There really is no end to what people can come up with. I’m waiting to see if Goncharov gets a Tom Gauld comic or a mention on Saturday Night Live.

It seems relevant that role-playing games, both online and tabletop, have recently increased in popularity. Dungeons and Dragons was the cornerstone of Stranger Things, and 50,000 people attended Gen Con (tabletop game convention) in 2022. It’s not my world, although I’ve watched the joy my kids take in it. My energy goes into writing, but I can absolutely appreciate the fun of playing together.

As a writer, I walk around with worlds in my head, but I don’t get to share them until they get published. Something like Goncharov, which was not an intellectual property “owned” by anyone, gives people permission to imagine and play.

I think it speaks to a need we have an human beings to experience connection, joy, wonder, and hope. We've always had those needs. People have been gathering around fires or tables, telling stories, for thousands of years.

Today, the hearth may be a computer or a phone, but the desire is not that different. My November began with the publication of Mother Christmas, my graphic novel, the secret origin of the Santa Claus story which is rooted in the ancient Muses, whose gifts inspire humanity. One of the questions my story attempts to answer is: Where does inspiration come from?

If we look at Goncharov we can see that inspiration comes from so many places. So much is possible when people given themselves permission to play, to shrug off the inner critics and outer trolls, and to imagine for a moment a different world that they have a part in creating. That is such a powerful and compelling idea.

Stories remind us that we are not alone, that we share struggles, and that we can overcome obstacles. There are so many challenges in the world right now.

Maybe Goncharov is a lens through which people are seeing themselves and each other, reminding us how much fun it is to make-believe and how powerful it can be to have a shared image of the world.

The first step in creation is imagining. Exercising that muscle, allowing ourselves to play and tell stories and make art is a worthwhile one, and I think it's one that we need to survive. The Goncharov phenomenon gives me hope, because if we can have this many people put their energy into creating a whole world around Goncharov, just imagine what else is possible?

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cranberrytaboo · 9 months

Note

4, 8, 12, 15, 17, 21, 24, 33, 25 for whatever ships come to mind for each!

Katya voice: THAT WAS A LONG ONE

all under the cut!

4 - Where it hurts WangXian "Wei Ying... Why did you let yourself be branded?" If Lan Wangji had expected Wei Wuxian to take his question seriously, he would be seriously disappointed. Wei Wuxian smiled, still dazed and drunk from the agony of his burning flesh. "And let poor MianMian be marked forever? Such pretty skin as hers should always be protected. It was not such a great sacrifice in the defense of true beauty."

But the only true beauty here is you, Lan Zhan wanted to say. He forced his tongue into stillness, so as not to let the errant thought run out of his mouth. Instead, he continued his ministrations, tending to the angry raw skin on Wei Wuxian's chest, letting his eyes sharpen with hate as he beheld the Wen crest tainting his Wei Ying's perfect body. As Wei Wuxian drifted in and out of consciousness, Lan Wangji bowed his head, pressing his lips tenderly to the wound.

The smell of burning flesh branded itself likewise into his mind.

8 - In secrecy HarryKim

Kim rested his elbows against the balcony at the Whirling-in-Rags and looked out towards the bay. There, the sun was slowly climbing down from the sky, painting the ice and snow soft pinks and creamy oranges. He lifted one hand to rub the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"It is... difficult, to try and balance your love life with secrecy. I'm sure you remember just how *avoidant* your friend, the Smoker, was, even in his own apartment. It's called the Homo-sexual Underground for a reason. You have to keep it quiet, you can't *show* it. I don't know... Do you think you're ready for a life like that?" He finally turned to face Harry fully.

Harry, who had only just recently remembered what homo-sexuality *was*, stood looking nonplussed. "So, if I wanted to hold you, or kiss you, I couldn't do it in front of everyone?"

"That's what I'm saying, Harry. In public, you have to act as if nothing at all is going on. There are *tells*, yes, signals, but it all has to be discreet." Kim wondered briefly if Harry was even capable of discretion.

"That seems like an awfully painful way to live."

"It is." Kim turned his head away again, not wanting to show his partner that much vulnerability. Thus, he was surprised when Harry approached, guiding his chin with one hand to press a kiss to his mouth. The sun itself slipped beneath the horizon at that moment, as if to give them privacy.

"But painful sounds worth it, if it's you."

12 - In grief ChengXian

The reeds in all directions whispered in the wind and crackled under the weight of Jiang Cheng's body, rustling as his shoulders racked with great, heavy sobs. As quietly as he could muster, so as not to disturb the tension, Wei Wuxian knelt beside his sworn brother, eyes reddening.

"Mother...! Father!" Jiang Cheng's teeth gnashed bitterly, lips pulled into a wrathful snarl for a brief moment before he continued to wail, unable to even hold on to anger in his grief.

Wei Wuxian lowered beside Jiang Cheng and turned to face him, hands gripping at the arm nearest him as tears finally spilled past his lashes. Everyone in Yunmeng Jiang is gone. You, and Yanli, and Jiang Cheng, are all that is left. It was not a vacuousness that Wei Wuxian was unfamiliar with, but one he had prayed night after night that he would never feel again. And now, Jiang Cheng was feeling it too.

He leaned on his elbows to lift up his own weight, drawing close to Jiang Cheng and kissing away the tears, not caring when the other flinched.

Jiang Cheng seemed at a loss for a moment before gripping at Wei Wuxian's back and pulling him close, desperately, like Wei Wuxian would turn into smoke and dissipate if he didn't.

15 - Passionately JohnnyV

Before V met Johnny, he didn't think such an intense form of self-love was possible. But now, with an entirely separate psyche hanging out in his head, V was finding creative ways to show Johnny just how much he meant to him, even as they cohabited his body.

He knew Johnny could interact with him physically, at least in theory- the punch Johnny had thrown when they first spoke had sent him flying- but it was awkward to try and show affection to someone who nobody else could see.

Thus, he asked Johnny to work with him, to try new things. Johnny could take over control of V's body- so surely, he could take control of just a part of it, right? His legs, or a hand, for example. They tested this theory-- then tested it again, and again, with satisfying results each time.

And every time, V would lean in to feverishly kiss the palm of his own hand, showing appreciation for the specter that lingered with him.

17 - To distract MariAli

"I know what you're here for, and the answer is no." Alice folded her arms and frowned, her foot tapping impatiently.

Marisa flashed her a winning smile. "What do you mean? How could you possibly know why I'm here, when I haven't said anything?"

"You don't have to say anything. Every year, I make plum wine when the season turns, and every year, you and Reimu come and steal it to drink back at the Hakurei Shrine." Alice's Shanghai and Hourai dolls stood before the jars of honey-colored liqueur, guarding them with their tiny lances.

Marisa folded her arms and grumbled, making a show of frustration while cutting her eyes to Reimu, her partner in crime. The witch's eyes sparkled with an idea, and Reimu slowly nodded her head in recognition.

Recklessly, Marisa swept Alice into her arms, dipping the magician low to the ground. "Now!" She crowed, before pulling Alice into a deep kiss. Alice's limbs tensed, then slacked, her head spinning.

Flustered and high on a giddy sort of energy, Alice's mind muddled until she was finally released. As she collected herself, she looked to the window, where Marisa and Reimu were beating a hasty escape, arms laden with jars of plum wine. The Shanghai doll moved to give chase, but Alice simply lifted a hand.

"Ugh... Let them go, this time. If Marisa is willing to go that far, she must really need it." Alice couldn't help but entertain the idea of making more plum wine, this time to be traded instead.

21 - On a place of insecurity CyGate

Cyclonus had noticed, in even the short time he had known Tailgate, that he had a great number of insecurities. Surely, Cyclonus thought, anyone would recognize this in him, but he seemed to be the only one who really paid attention to how Tailgate clung so desperately to any sort of validation, any sense of belonging or being a part of something greater.

And one of the places where Tailgate's insecurity most manifested was in his Function. On his forearm were carved carefully the words "Waste Disposal," and it apparently caused Tailgate no end of resentment. On a quiet night, Cyclonus resolved to confront the little bot about it.

"It's so degrading," Tailgate finally admitted, his optics gleaming as he averted his gaze. "Everyone else has such grand purposes, but me? I'm just a janitor!" He held his head in his hands. "Every time I look at my arm, I feel so humiliated that I just wanna tear it off." He sniffed. "I would, if I weren't such a coward."

"Wait, listen to reason." Cyclonus tried to force himself to speak gently, knowing just how jarring his voice could be. "First of all, there's nothing wrong with cleaning waste. It is a necessary task like any other, and we wouldn't be able to live in a place full of garbage." He paused, realizing that might not have been what Tailgate wanted to hear, even if he needed it. "And two, your Function is not indicative of your worth. I have seen you, Tailgate, and your intense spirit, and you are worth far more than most any bot on this ship."

"You really think so?" Tailgate finally looked back up at Cyclonus.

"I know it." Cyclonus carefully took Tailgate's hand, lifting his arm and brushing his mouth across the lettering. "And I will keep telling you so until you believe it."

24 - In danger Sufferer/Disciple

Each day in hiding, the Sufferer grew more distraught. Even as many times as they relocated, however many of their pursuers they killed and however often they covered their tracks, he knew it was only a matter of time before they were caught. He watched as his beloved mother, the Dolarosa, retreated to a place of solitude in the cavern they inhabited, lifting her hands and praying under her breath. To his side, the Disciple sharpened her claws, dragging them against the rocky floor and watching them file down to shape with marked intensity.

"Why is it that you continue to follow me?" He looked to the Disciple with a mix of sorrow and resignation. "If I asked you to run, to let them hunt me while you escaped to live your life safely, would you?"

"Never." She replied plainly. "I have chosen this path, knowing it would be hard, because of my endless devotion to you. Why do you think I would flee now, just because we're nearing the end?"

The Sufferer lowered his head, teeth grit. So, she was aware, just as he was, that they did not have long. "I only wish that... that my actions here had caused any change."

"They did." The Disciple moved close to his side, nuzzling her cheek against his. "You may not have changed the highblood's minds, but you have moved the hearts of those who struggle like us. It won't be immediate, but you have invited a wave of change."

"I would have liked to be around to see it." The Sufferer laughed, bitterly, before pressing a kiss to the Disciple's cheek. "Thank you. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me one day for bringing you into this."

"I already have." And yet, she could not help but wish that they could remain curled together in the vague warmth of that cavern until the end of days.

25 - As a Yes HecaJun

Junko couldn't remember half of the catalysts of her pure rage. She couldn't remember the faces of her husband and son, nor the face of Chang'e, who took them from her. She couldn't even remember her name from before she became a vengeful spirit. All she could remember was the concentrated rage that boiled in her throat.

But she was slowly making new memories, and most of them were of Hecatia. Hecatia, smiling and agreeing to fight at her side. Hecatia, laughing and playing with Clownpiece, dancing across the crater of a dried-up lunar lake. Hecatia, pushing back a lock of Junko's hair and asking her if she would be interested in trying to love again.

Junko didn't quite know how to answer. She wanted to say yes. Desperately. But her lips threatened to betray her, as they quivered behind years of near-forgotten heartbreak. So instead, she closed the distance between Hecatia's mouth and her own, agreeing in a silent sort of way.

33 - Forcefully HarryJean

"Jean, please look at me."

Rather than give in, Jean continued to stare daggers at the floor in front of him. It was all he could do to keep his attention focused on that one spot, eyes burning as another wave of despair welled in his chest and threatened to crush his lungs.

"Listen! I want to apologize, but I need you to stop acting like I'm not *here*, can't you even pretend to hear me?" Harry pushed a hand through his own hair, his initial repentance giving way to frustration he knew he didn't have the right to feel.

Jean's fists gripped at his knees where he sat, teeth digging into the inside of his lip until he could taste blood. "I get you feel like shit. I can sympathize. But that doesn't mean you get to treat the rest of us like shit till you feel better..!"

"This isn't about the others. I'll talk to them later, but right now, this is about me and you." Harry's fingers twitched. "You knew what you were getting into when you started getting closer to me, I warned you about the kind of man I was becoming."

"Is that supposed to be an apology?!" Jean's eyes snapped upward to stare at Harry hard. "Because that sounds like excuses."

"I'm *getting* to it!" Harry exhaled, too harshly, trying to force out the anger in his stomach. "I *am* sorry! I hate hurting you!"

Jean's eyes narrowed, and he looked back down at the floor. "Then stop hurting me."

The same frustration that Harry tried so hard to repress flared back up. If only it were so *easy.* Why was Jean convinced that he could just change in a day? And why was Jean not looking at him? The aloofness made him *sick*.

It was so easy to stride across the floor, to grab Jean by the jaw and to turn his head upward, to lock their lips.

He wasn't sure what he expected in return, but it wasn't a hand tangled into his hair, keeping him close, as Jean's mouth worked against his own. He could faintly taste blood on Jean's tongue. When he pulled his head back, Jean chased him, briefly, before leaning back again.

Harry let out a ragged breath. "Let me start from the top."

There was a moment's silence before Jean nodded. "Yeah. Please do."

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freakystrashdump · 1 year

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🔮The Oracle Bakery🔮

Emperor Belos|Phillip Wittebane/OC

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, Belos is a content warning by himself

Read on AO3

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Chapter 9: A Blue Blaze

"Good Morning, miss Baker!" The two women inside the Oracle Bakery jumped at the loud greeting, not quite used to such enthusiasm early in the morning "Steve, your secure escort, has arrived!"

Selena, the "Miss Baker" in question, gripped the cloth of her apron over her chest, trying to still the hectic beating of her heart. The scout kicked open the door and started cheerfully yelling immediately , completely and utterly taking her by surprise and almost giving her a mini heart attack. "Oh, uhh…" she cleared her throat as she gathered herself "...Steve, was it? Thank you for…coming?"

One scout instead of two, that was new. And that's who the three scouts were talking about, wasn't it? They mentioned that someone named Steve was being assigned to her, but she never would have guessed he would have been this…

"That's me! Steve! Nice to meet ya, miss Baker!" He greeted, giving her a mock salute "I trust you got the Emperor's order set and ready to go?"

…enthusiastic.

"Yes, of course, Steve." Selena nodded, taking the already prepared delivery box that was waiting on the counter and the bag with the journal that she brought down from her apartment last night. "My name is Selena, by the way." She offered her name as she stepped up from behind the counter "Selena Fortuna. Nice to meet you…too?"

"I'd shake your hand, but uh, seems they're both kinda full - want me to carry that box for ya?"

"No!" Selena quickly pulled back the hand holding the delivery box - a bit too fast and a bit too loud "I mean, no, uh, thank you. Deliveries go from my hands to the Emperor's, no one in between. Direct orders." After Selena cleared her throat, she suddenly felt bad for the rude outburst, so in return she extended her other arm towards him "But you can carry this bag for me, if you'd like?"

The scout took it from her as soon as she offered, pointing a finger gun at her with his free hand "You got it, miss Selena, glad to help!"

Titan below, this guy was just a pocketful of sunshine, wasn't he?

The two took off soon after, right after saying goodbye to Katya, and Selena wasn't sure if she was just getting used to the morning ritual, or if it was Steve's cool personality, but the walk to the palace just felt incredibly at peace. She couldn't put her finger on it, but he just had this… cool guy energy. Maybe this was the ultimate evil plan Emperor Belos hatched - sweeten her up by sending the sweetest, nicest cool dude he had in his coven, lower her defences! That's how he gets under her skin, and when she starts to trust him, BAM! He…he uhh…well she didn't know what he'd do to her, but it ain't gonna be good, she can tell you that much!

Lost in thought, she was brought back when Steve waved his hand in front of her face, startling her "Hey, you in there?"

"Oh goodness, I spaced out for a moment there! I’m sorry, the scouts so far never really…talked to me." Well, she spaced out for probably longer than a moment, as they already passed the bridge to the Palace. "What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you could hook me up with some sweets before you closed today, wanna take some to my baby brother." Steve asked as they both continued on inside "I totally forgot to look at what you have back at the shop, but like, pack me anything you think a kid would like."

"Oh!" She nodded "Yeah, no problem, I'll pack some popular choices out for you."

"Nice!" Selena had to assume he was grinning under that helmet with how cheerful his voice sounded "I'll pick it up before you close."

The witch smiled "You have a brother, then? How old is he?"

"He's pretty younger than me, the lil guy is 13!" Steve exclaimed pretty proudly "He started Hexside recently, not gonna lie, pretty proud of him!"

"Oh, Hexside, that's where I used to go, too!" Selena chided in "I wonder if Bump is still principal there, he used to be my…" as they walked through the golden halls, two figures caught her eye "...favourite."

She met eyes with Darius first, as he was the one facing her. His striking green eyes quickly glanced back to the man he spoke, nodding his head in a silent gesture to tell him to look behind, before shifting his attention back to her. And the man he was speaking to did exactly that, head turning to glance over his shoulder, flaming orange eyes meeting her softer brown ones, both equally taken by surprise.

And then the orange eyes narrowed into a frown, Selena instantly recognising the exact type of simmering anger stewing under the familiar face of her dear uncle Magnus.

"Oh shit."

She hesitated, stopping like a deer caught in the headlights as Magnus' eyes burned holes into her, only for Steve to pick up the slack and keep her walking forward with a guiding hand on her back. "Man, I've been dying to try stuff from your bakery as soon as word spread that the Emperor was a fan!" He continued the conversation completely oblivious to the silent exchange "I mean, those must be some really good pastries if Emperor Belos can't go a couple of days without his fix, haha am I right?"

"Shutupshutupshutup oh titan shut up!" Selena screamed internally, knowing Magnus was picking up on every single word Steve was carelessly throwing out. “Ha, haha, yeah totally…” she laughed nervously, brain racing to think of ways to derail the conversation from that specific topic but coming up blank.

“Hey now, not that way, I got instructions to take you to the drawing room!” Steve stopped her from trying to go to the throne room, thus avoiding passing Magnus and Darius directly “Emperor Belos is waiting for you there.”

“Y-yes, of course!” Selena quickly replied. To the drawing room, turning right, passing exactly the corner where her glaring uncle was “Of course he is…” Grandmother Isabella was the one who did divination from fire and ash, however right now, Selena was pretty sure Magnus had mastered fire magic from the blaze of anger she felt coming at her.

"Lena." Darius spoke as they passed, a casual greeting that Selena swore was a bit too cheeky, a bit too full of himself "Always a pleasure."

Magnus stayed silent, just staring.

"Hi Darius…" she nodded towards him, hesitating to do the same to Magnus "...uncle. I'm sure you can see I'm very busy, so I can't stop to talk." She turned to her escort "Isn't that right, Steve?"

"E-xactly!" Steve seemed oblivious of the family drama occuring silently right in front of him "Emperor's orders, miss Selena goes directly to him, as she has every other time she had been summoned by him."

"Steve do you have a talent for saying everything you are not supposed to at the worst possible moment?!" The witch thought as she saw Magnus' face change to dumbstruck at the mention of the Emperor, before darkening again, then finally, morphing into the most strained smile she had seen grace his features.

"You'll just have to chat after Emperor Belos is done with you, miss Selena."

Selena flinched when she saw how Magnus' lips spread, showing teeth in a, for him, unnatural grin "Oh of course, can't keep the Emperor waiting." He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing to the point of pain "I'll just have to wait for my beloved little niece - who would never keep secrets from me - to finish her royal duties."

She squeaked, feeling like a child who got into trouble.

~*~*~*~

The rest of the way to the drawing room felt like a blur, if one had asked Selena how she got there or what Steve was carelessly chattering about, she couldn't have told you. Steve, ever the gentleman, opened the door for her, letting her walk inside, albeit on auto-pilot as her mind thought up scenario after scenario on what she should do now that Magnus knew.

Would he tell gran? Oh god, what if he tells her mom?! What if-

"Ah, there you are." She blinked as she awoke from her stupor, the Emperor's voice feeling like a thick miasma, domineering and velvety, washing over her. “Good morning, Selena.”

“E-emperor Belos, good morning!” She actually felt somewhat thankful; if anyone could drag her back from the edge of those anxiety-inducing doomer thoughts, it would be the man she spent the last two years focusing all her righteous indignation at. He was sitting in an armchair, a book in his hands he must have been reading just moments before “I made something new for you today, hope you’ll enjoy it! Oh, and-” she turned to Steve, who’s demeanour changed, the light, airy aura gone completely as he stood straight and obedient “Steve, may I have the bag back, please?”

“Of course, miss.”

Even his tone of voice changed, sounding somehow rougher, more devoid of emotion. Selena couldn’t help but remember how the cocky Golden Guard turned into a meek peon as soon as he was in the presence of the Emperor. Total obedience gained through fear. Either way, he held out the bag he graciously offered to carry for her before, and she took it with a soft thank you.

“Thank you for your service, scout. You’re dismissed.” the Emperor chimed in behind her as soon as the exchange was done. Something almost threatening in how he spoke, but only if you listened closely.

With a silent bow, Steve was gone.

And it was only her and the Emperor, once more.

The witch made her way across the room to the seating area and placed the bakery box on the coffee table neatly, then turned to the man seating just a bit away and offered the bag with the journal to him. “Here, Emperor Belos. Thank you again for letting me borrow your journal.”

She couldn’t see his eyes behind the mask - unlike the first day, they were just black voids, giving her nothing (except the uncanny feeling of being watched). So Selena had to make assumptions on his body language alone, that his gaze was downcast to the bag as he stilled, as if thinking. Reaching inside, The Emperor withdrew the book wrapped with paper and string, his fingers tapping against it once, twice, before the masked face rose up to her once more, and the uncanny feeling was back.

“I had assumed you’d have kept it longer.” he sounded inquisitive, as if trying to coax her to explain her actions without directly asking her to do so.

Selena switched her weight from one leg to the other “Well, I didn’t want to keep it for too long, I didn’t wish to be rude.” she nodded her head decisively “I did copy down almost all of it to a journal of my own, to use in future recipes! I hope you don’t mind.”

The Emperor wore a mask to hide his face, to hide his reactions, to keep everyone around him on the edge as they struggled to appease him, a power play from his side to make sure others squirm. Selena knew that because, well, that’s exactly the power trip the Midnight mask gave her. So there was a sense of pride swelling in her as she watched Emperor Belos and saw how the cogs turned in his head, knowing he was thinking carefully of how to respond. She was starting to read him better, the more time she spent with him. The way he stayed silent, she could imagine how he pursed his lips in thought.

“Why don't you take a seat." An order, not an offer.

So she did. Very tactically she went for the loveseat adjacent to where he sat, and to make sure he wouldn't suddenly decide to sit closer to her, she sat in the middle, leaving no room for anyone else. He wouldn't catch her off guard like last time, when they shared the loveseat and their knees were practically touching (how obscene!).

"I wouldn't have minded if you'd kept the journal longer." Emperor Belos tilted his head to the side, fingers tapping against the wrapped book in his lap. "You should have taken your time with it, I lent it to you for a reason."

Selena shook her head "It's fine, really! I took an extended weekend off to finish copying it, so it was no problem to return it early." She smiled at him "Afterall, such a precious journal is safer in the palace than in a baker's bedroom. I feel better knowing it's back under your care."

The Emperor let out a deep hum, in thought, turning his attention back to the journal on his lap. Graceful fingers moved across the paper and to the string keeping it together, untying it with care "I suppose that is alright, then." He finally agreed with her, and Selena felt at ease "I hope you enjoyed the little impromptu holiday instead of only fretting over the journal, at least." He took the book out of the packaging, turning it over as he inspected it "It must be nice to be able to have some time off. I'm afraid I forgot what that is like." He placed the journal back on his lap, now turning his full attention back to Selena.

"Why, just this weekend the palace was in disarray over a squadron of scouts being attacked."

Selena felt her eyes widen before she had time to school her expression back into place. She quickly cleared her throat, straightening out her back as well "O-oh, how horrid. Are the scouts okay?"

"Minor injuries, thankfully, but their spirits seem wounded by the encounter. Especially the youngest one." Belos let out a string of 'tsks' in (fake) concern "Poor thing. She was really shaken up."

The nagging feeling of guilt started creeping up Selena's back, a cold, uncomfortable shiver she thought she managed to suppress before. "That's…really sad to hear." She hesitated as she tried to find her words "Who attacked them, is it known?"

“A wild witch, calling herself Midnight.” As soon as the name left his lips, Selena felt a cold sweat run over her.

“And is this wild witch in the room with us right now?” she joked internally in an (unsuccessful) attempt to curb her growing panic. She felt kind of bad that the joke would go by unappreciated by anyone, it was hilarious “I’ve…I’ve heard of her.” Selena croaked out, nervously. She hoped he’d read her nervous demeanour as a fear from Midnight, not from being found out.

“I am the Eclipse that will snuff out the Emperor's light of corruption.” Belos quoted her, word for word, even adding some gusto to mimic her as if he'd heard her say those words in person. He was surprisingly on point in his intonation, she noted grumpily. “Is what she claims, as she assaults the scouts with reckless abandon. I look forward to the day I finally have her in my grasp .” The way he clenched his fist made Selena quiver, suddenly finding her own lap an interesting place to closely examine.

“I thought you said you didn’t enjoy being cruel?” she almost bit her tongue as the words came out faster than she could stop them.

Wow, the pattern on her skirt was so amusing to study right now. Selena would not dare look away from it now when it’s just getting interesting. Nope, no other reason, like her stupid mouth speaking out of turn. And the uncanny feeling of being watched was back, in full swing, burning into her skull and making her insides squirm.

Yet he said nothing.

And Selena couldn’t tell you if that made it better or worse.

She would have preferred a sharp scolding to hearing him get up from his seat, heavy steps nearing her until she could see his white and golden robes right next to her, brushing up against her skirt. She would have preferred a sharp scolding as oppose to the Emperor kneeling down next to her, eyes now fully glowing icy blue like the first day he called for her, and her having nowhere else to look except for him. She would have preferred a sharp scolding instead of his touch over her hands, covering them whole.

“And what would you suggest I do, hmm? What would you do, if it was your coven being hurt?” The way he spoke made her feel like a stupid, insolent child. “Should I just do nothing ?” he tilted his head, and Selena bit the inside of her cheek to remain silent this time “Should I just let her continue to run amok, disturbing the witches of the Isles?” she felt his fingers tighten around her hands, worryingly so “Should I just let her continue harming the scouts?”

“N-no, of course not!”

His other hand reached out to her face and over her cheek, the metal cold, the talons threatening “Of course not.” Belos repeated after her, pleased with that answer “I do not enjoy being cruel. But I will protect what is mine. No matter the price. No matter if others consider me cruel for the ways I chose to do it.”

This was…this was probably the closest they’d ever been, not counting the first time where he dragged her through the throne room up to where he sat. This wasn’t quite as close, but it was more intimate, and it lasted for far more than those couple of awkward seconds she was suspended in the air. In fact, thanks to the blue glow from his eyes, she could see past the usually pitch black holes on his mask and see the smallest hint of his face. The downturned eyes and the purple-tinted,tired skin under them, the eyebrows in a determined frown. Just hints, but more, much more, than most on the isles could have dreamed of seeing. And while there were signs of ageing, she could see the crows feet at the corners of his eyes…

…but from what little she could see, he didn’t look nearly as old as her grandparents. Waine and Isabella were in their 90s, and as spry as they were for their age, the years still show. Belos had to have been around their age, it didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t unheard of, witches with long lives, some living for hundreds of years. It took a lot of magic, but it was possible. But even then, long lasting youth , slowed down ageing, that was…rare. Incredibly rare, the magic needed for that strong and usually not without sacrifice.

Then again, Emperor Belos was the most powerful witch of the Boiling Isles.

Oh, oh right . Selena remembered where she was before she let her thoughts stray (though it really was no more than a couple of seconds she was lost in her mind, even if it felt longer). She already overstepped massively with her earlier comment, but she couldn’t help herself, the spite and anger seeped out for a moment there, it’s like he goaded her on purpose. So it was best she rectified this misstep of hers - carefully she managed to wedge one hand from under his grasp without agitating him further, though she did hesitate as she lowered it back down over his own.

The man seemed to thrive on using physical contact. Constantly touching, constantly hovering. So doing the same, mirroring him, that should please him, right? And he did react, she saw it, just a hint of his eyes widening and the softest sound of a sharp inhale, muffled by the mask, the moment her hand touched his.

Keep him calm, keep him happy.

“I apologise, Emperor Belos. I spoke out of turn.” Selena made sure her voice was saccharine and pleading - subservient - as she spoke “And foolishly so, too. I am lucky I do not have to find out what I’d do in your position. I talk of virtue, but I don't know what I'd do when the chips are down. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Hook, line and sinker. The way his breath hitched, she had him believing her, no problem . He hesitated, actually hesitated, to respond, as she felt his fingers flex under hers, eyes flying over her face as the cogs in his head turned and turned.

She had him right where she-

“There we go, that’s a good girl .” he responded, perfectly even in his voice and with zero uncertainty she saw in him just a moment prior “Of course you’re forgiven, afterall-” the hand on her face gave her a gentle pat on the cheek “-you repented, haven’t you?” Belos removed his hands from her as he stood up, releasing her from what felt like a cage all around her the second he touched her. Selena felt like she could finally breathe “Then again, perhaps it is through fault of mine, I shouldn’t have started such a morose topic in such sweet company in the first place. Afterall, gentle doves rarely like to dwell on the business of ravenous wolves.” Belos hummed in thought as he moved away, back to sit on the armchair where she found him this morning. “Such a dreadful thing to discuss, not something to bring up in pleasant company.”

Despite him being gone, the ghost of his touch still lingered on her. The pressure on her hand, the smooth metal under her fingers, the heat against her cheek. It didn’t leave with him, it felt like it imprinted, still so vivid of a sensation.

And neither did his words leave, fully imprinted in her memory.

“Good girl.”

It felt like a fire set ablaze in her chest, hurting her, choking her on smoke, making her lightheaded. Thick, foul smoke that filled her lungs and made her unable to breathe. Every time she tried it felt like something was squeezing, clawing, aching , so all she could do was take shallow breaths, struggling to keep them under control and not to start gasping for air.

A blaze which burned cold blue.

She needed out. She had to get out. She had to leave .

Smoothing out any wrinkle on her skirt and trying to look as casual as possible, Selena tried not to show how badly her legs were shaking as she stood up, smiling at the Emperor the way she always did. “I do enjoy our conversations, Emperor, be they pleasant or not, however someone still needs to run the bakery, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, leaving so soon?”

She hated his voice, hated it, hated it -

“Unfortunately.” Selena grit her teeth so hard her jaw started to hurt. The strained smile, she hoped, was enough to hide that. She saw him reach under his cloak and quickly stopped him “Oh, no need for that! You loaned me your journal, so today’s order is on me!”

Belos paused “That’s very kind of you.”

“Well, kindness begets kindness, Emperor.” She slowly made her way around the coffee table, very aware of how her knees shook “I’m simply returning the goodwill you have shown me.” she stopped next to his armchair, ready to say goodbye, hoping to do so before she collapsed from the ache in her chest.

The Emperor took the hint, reaching and taking her hand, giving it a light squeeze “I will see you soon, then, Selena. I’ll send the scout for you in a day or two.”

Selena swallowed as he held her hand so delicately “Of course, Emperor.”

~*~*~*~

How she hasn’t stumbled over her own two feet, Selena didn’t know. As soon as she left the drawing room, she was power-walking out of there, holding onto the walls to keep herself upright. She hoped she was going in the right direction, because her eyes refused to focus on anything in front of her.

“Good girl.”

The witch growled and stopped in her tracks, leaning against the wall that she already used for support as the memory made her chest ache again.

“Stop it.” she hissed and shook her head, trying to chase his voice away - To no avail.

What did he do?! What did he do to her?! Did he cast some spell? A curse? A hex?! Was there something she triggered when she entered the room, something in the air, in his touch? She already knew he didn’t cast using spell circles, he could have done something to her without her being none the wiser. Selena gasped for air, the ache unbearable as his voice replayed in her head over and over again. Selena felt her eyes burn, she wanted to cry. She wanted to scream, to curse him to the ends of the realm, to yell as loudly as she could. But not here, not in these halls, where the wall had ears. She needed to get herself together get herself home-

“Done with your royal duties, Lena?”

Fuck . She forgot about that specific part of things that were going oh so wrong today.

The witch swallowed hard, smiling up nervously at the man who was walking up to her “Uncle Magnus, always a pleasure!”

The man in question let out an annoyed “tsk”, rolling his eyes at her “Oh, I’m sure.” he raised his hand and gestured to someone behind him “Darius, if you’d please.” Selena raised an eyebrow and looked beyond her uncle, only now spotting Darius who was following closely behind.

What did he mean by-

Her train of thoughts was cut off when she saw Darius make a spell circle, abomination clay circling around him and spreading out, surrounding him, her and Magnus. Her eyes widened as the clay grew, moving with incredible speed and precision, encasing all three of them in darkness in seconds.

“Darius, wait-!” she tried to yell, only for the clay to silence her, dizziness overtaking as she felt weightless in the goop. She hated teleporting by abominations, it always left her feeling clammy and disoriented. As fast as it came, the darkness left just as quickly, the weight of the clay lifted off of her and left her stumbling like a newborn foal. She probably would have fallen over, too, but the steady hand on her shoulder managed to keep her upright.

“Easy now.” she heard Darius behind her.

Selena blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the light, the nausea slowly leaving her body the longer she stood firmly on the ground with her own two feet. Where exactly were-

Oh.

Oh no.

She knew exactly where they were.

They stood in the all too familiar kitchen of the family summer cottage, which now housed her siblings and mother after she had retired and left the bakery to her. Mom wanted to relax and tend to a garden, Sitrie wanted to stay close to take care of her and Stella wanted to raise her kids close to their grandma. So the three (plus Stella’s husband and kids) all moved to what was once a vacation home.

And if this is where they were, where Magnus told Darius to teleport them too, then that meant…

“Selena, honey.” The familiar cadence of her mother made her blood run cold, the realisation that Magnus had actually tattled on her to her mom settling into her bones. Selena turned to the little dining table and found her mother sitting at it, a cup of tea in her hands. The witch gulped and wondered if she could somehow manage to run back to the Palace and hide out in the drawing room for the foreseeable future.

“Please take a seat.”

The Emperor’s company suddenly felt much more inviting than dealing with her angry mother.

#the owl house #the oracle bakery #philip wittebane #philip wittebane x oc #emperor belos #emperor belos x oc #fanfiction #reader insert #self insert

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