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marlynnofmany · 11 months

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Just a Rock

For all the time I’ve spent traveling through space, I haven’t spend much of it actually out in space. It’s unsettling. Inside the ship, I can forget how close the airless void is, how small our precious bubble of air. But outside, everything is black like some vast creature ate all the color in the universe first, then the air, and is now hungering for life forms too.

Sometimes those distant stars look like teeth.

These are the thoughts that tend to pop up when I’m in my exo suit, hoping that my thruster pack doesn’t run out of fuel before I make it back to the ship. But then an empty pack of chips will float by my visor, and I can refocus on business.

That’s how it happened today, at any rate. (And yes, “day” is a silly concept in the blackness of space.) We’d made a detour to see if we could pick up some extra funds by gathering salvage from a museum ship that had gone kablooey, but so far all we were finding was trash.

Paint jetted past in her own exo suit, upside-down to my frame of reference, then stopped to pull apart a jumble of carpet fragments. “They really did clear out the good stuff already,” she said over the radio. She swatted aside a drink cup with her tail, looking like a little space-suited dinosaur, a thought that kept me entertained for a good few seconds.

Captain Sunlight’s voice said, “Keep an eye out for scrap metal. That may already be gone too, but it’s worth a shot.” She was somewhere else in the drifting junk pile, or maybe back near the ship; I couldn’t tell. There was too much stuff in the way. This was a mildly alarming thought — out of sight meant out of safety — but I caught a glimpse of the Frillian twins posted as safety guards at the edge of the cloud, and my heartbeat settled a bit.

“Do you think anyone will buy some mildly used carpet?” Paint asked the captain. “It’s only in several pieces.”

“Let’s go with ‘no.’”

“What about some very exotic — what is this — napkins? Made with authentic Earth wood fibers!”

I looked over at that. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Paint said. She held up half of a wall placard. “But this is from the Earth exhibit, so maybe the napkins are too.”

I looked around at the trash in a new light. “Man, it’s a pity we weren’t here for any of the good stuff.”

“Yeah, and all these food packages are empty! We can’t even get you a slightly exploded taste of home!”

I waved my hand through a cluster of soda bottles. “I appreciate the thought.”

Paint jetted over to a different pile of whatever. “Hey, do you think any of this food trash was actually an exhibit? Packaging from olden days?”

“Uh, maybe,” I said. “Probably not. That’s not the sort of thing I’d expect on a multi-species museum ship. A janky little humans-only one, maybe. But even then, most people aren’t going to care.”

Something clunked against the back of my helmet. I hate that. Nothing like a reminder that I can’t see behind me like some species can. I toggled the jets to rotate in place, so I could find the offending object.

It was a rock.

“What’s this doing here?” I asked, closing a gloved hand around it and bringing it in for a closer look.

“What’d you find?” Paint asked, sticking out sideways from behind a twisted bench.

“A rock.”

“A meteorite rock?” she asked. “Oh hey, do you think it pierced the hull?”

“No, it doesn’t look like a space rock,” I said, turning the small gray-and-white lump over. It was mostly smooth, with a divot that would have fit a fingertip if I hadn’t been wearing the gloves. “Weird. I wonder if it was part of some Neolithic exhibit or something.”

“Can I see?” Paint jetted over to park herself in roughly the same orientation as me. She was very good with that jetpack.

I showed her the rock. “It doesn’t look like any gemstone I know. Maybe some kid had it in their pocket, then threw it away.”

Paint cocked her head. “Is that normal, for your young to carry rocks around?”

“Sure. You never picked up something you thought was neat as a kid?”

“Not a rock,” Paint said with exaggerated disdain. “A sweet-smelling seednut or herb, absolutely.”

“But look: it’s even got a little finger groove,” I pointed out. “You could stick it in a pocket and rub it for luck.”

“Could you?”

I smiled. “You could. You probably wouldn’t, but…”

“Why?”

I looked at the rock again, already fond of it. “I get the feeling that I couldn’t explain this to a point where you’d agree.”

Paint shrugged. “Probably not. But hey, we found you a souvenir after all. From probably the Earth section of whatever museum this is.” She grabbed a handful of colorful pamphlets drifting by. “The ‘Galaxy in a Bottle Museum Tour Ship.’ Who named that?”

My smile turned into a wide grin. “Humans.”

Paint grumbled about the unflattering comparison of an elite starship to a simple bottle. When she moved to toss the pamphlets away, I held out a hand.

“What’s that white one?” I asked. “It looks like a display sign.”

Paint flipped over the stack and separated the one I meant. “You’re right. Hey, it’s about a rock!”

I reached out a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

She passed it over. “Is it that rock?”

I read the title, then was gut-punched by familiarity. I’d heard about this. “Yes,” I managed, skimming the rest of the sign and holding the rock close. “This is Bethan’s Rock.”

“What?”

I fumbled to explain. “Ages ago, a kid visited a museum — a human kid — and learned what museums were for, then offered her favorite rock as a donation, so other people could appreciate it too.”

Paint cocked her head in the other direction. “And they took it?”

“Yes!” I must have looked a little wild at this point, but I didn’t care. “The adults agreed that it was a fine thing to donate, not to mention adorable, and the only one of its kind that I’ve ever heard of. More museums should house the occasional favorite rock, though I suppose they wouldn’t be as special if they did.”

“So just to clarify,” Paint said. “There isn’t anything valuable about this rock, except that one of your youths decided there was. And all the adults played along.”

I smiled down at it, careful not to let it drift away. “It’s the most precious non-precious stone I’ve ever seen.”

Paint stared for a moment. “It’s not even one of those shiny ones you like.”

I laughed. “I know!”

The captain called us back in at that point, having found one decent chunk of metal among the mountains of trash. We had a schedule to keep.

I folded the sign and tucked it into my suit pocket, but held the rock tight in my fist as I jetted toward the ship, working the controls with one hand. I was already thinking of the safest place in my quarters to keep it until we got ahold of the proper Earth museum authorities. Other humans would want to see Bethan’s Rock, after all, but it would be my honor to watch over it until they could.

~~~

(Inspired by this post. Long live Bethan’s Rock.)

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character of this book. More to come!

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yearning-for-autumn · 4 months

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Eris x gn reader pure fluff and comfort for an insecure reader sfw nothing explicit

Don't Worry Darling

Word Count: 1,016

Pairing: Eris x gn!Reader

Warnings: Feelings of low self-worth

Summary: After a bad day at work you fall into your usual pattern of questioning your worth. Eris makes sure you know how much he loves you.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I was feeling a bit rubbish after losing my first draft of this, but somehow it got finished!

You glanced at the clock, only fifteen minutes until you could escape home. Your co-worker seemed oblivious to your sullen mood and wittered on about her weekend plans whilst you counted the minutes until closing time. Usually, you loved working at the little bookshop. It was tucked away in the heart of the Autumn Court’s main city, and enjoyed by Fae from all walks of life. You were an avid reader, and generally didn’t mind talking to the customers.

Except today.

It had been a throwaway comment, something spewed in frustration and not really meant to be rude though not meant to be polite either. But it had stuck with you. They had come in early, asking for a particular book you thought you had; a beautiful leather bound tome with gilded edges. You had seen it this morning in the stock room, and you told the customer as such. But when you went looking for it, it was gone. You approached your manager, asking if you still had it.

“No, we sold that first thing today.” She said, and you groaned, “But we can always order another copy in.”

This is the message you relaid to the customer, an older High Fae Male with clothes that reeked of money, he rolled his eyes.

“Well you told me you had it out the back. Are you really so incompetent at your job that you don’t know what you have in stock? Don’t bother ordering it, I will be sure to let your manager know that you have lost my custom today.” With that he turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving the doorbell jingling miserably in his wake.

This was the start of a terrible day for you. You lost your favourite coffee cup somewhere in the cavernous break room, stacked a whole box of new stock on the wrong shelf, and had to miss your lunch break due to a co-worker being off sick. By the end of it all you were totally drained.

Your co-worker was still chatting away when the doorbell rang and she gasped, but you were still running on autopilot.

“Sorry, we’re just closing up, please come again tomorrow.” You said without looking up.

“I’m sure you can make an exception for me, can’t you?” Came the smooth, self-assured voice of your mate. Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.

You fought the urge to run into his arms and sob with sheer relief. Your co-worker tittered and you barely suppressed an eye-roll. It had been years since the two of you were mated, and he frequently visited you at work when he had the time. Then again, was it so surprising that people couldn’t believe you were together? Who were you compared to him? His smirk dropped when he saw your exhausted expression and he opened his arms for you.

You stepped forward and let him pull you in close.

“Rough day?” He asked, kissing the top of your head. You just nodded against his chest, breathing in his smoky scent. He held you a moment, letting you soak in his warmth, then released you and gathered your things. With a polite smile to your co-worker he winnowed you both home to the Forest House.

Once in your room, you slumped into your armchair. It was your favourite spot in the palace. Next to a large window, it overlooked the golden forests of Autumn that the room in an orange afternoon glow. Eris came to stand at your side, carding his fingers along your scalp.

“Tell me about today.” He said, his words gently demanding. You told him everything as he continued his massage down your neck and shoulders.

“I’ll make you a tea.” He said once you were finished, kissing the spot underneath your ear. You sighed as he left.

The mirror that angled towards the bed mocked you as you took in your tired form, draped in your chair in a way unbecoming of a High Lords mate. Incompetent. That’s what he had said. Incompetent at your job. You had it easy. What was bookselling to running a court? And you couldn’t even manage that. Even now, High Fae and Lesser Fae alike queued for even an audience with Eris at balls and parties, why would he ever have chosen you?

“But I did choose you.” Eris re-appeared in the doorway, tea in hand and expression pained. You realised your innermost thoughts had been pushed directly down the bond. Eris put the tea down and held out his hands, pulling you up from the chair and placing his hands protectively on the small of your back.

“And I will always choose you. You are capable, and smart, and brilliant.” He smiled, and kissed you softly, “You mean everything to me. Sometimes I wonder why the Mother gave me such a sweet mate when I have been so terrible.”

You frowned, and your arms pulled him tighter against you.

“You’re perfect.” You state and he pulls a face. You growl. “No. You are.”

A smirk graces his features and you realise, a bit belatedly, that you have been played at your own game. You huff and bury your face in his shoulder as he laughs at your dawning realisation.

“Tomorrow I’m taking the day off, and so are you. We’re going to spend the day together doing whatever you want.”

“I can’t I—” You start to protest but he silences you with a kiss. You roll your eyes.

“Come to bed, my love.” He says with a self-satisfied smile and you are helpless to stop it as he picks you up and deposits you onto the plush bedding. You wriggle into the soft sheets despite still being in your work clothes and it being well before night time. He shuffles in behind you and you melt into the warmth of his embrace. His breathing is even and rhythmic against your neck and your eyelids droop.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your neck, the last thing you hear before drifting off, dreaming of Eris.

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bigtreefest · 5 days

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Take a Stab

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: You and Ari rent a secluded cabin at the lake for your one year anniversary.

Word Count: 2,537

Content/Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY, SMUT, protected p in v sex, outdoor sex, praise, secrecy and surprises, coffee sipping, happy crying, mentions of knife usage for whittling, pet names, like one swear

A/N: Ro, thank you for this hot gif. Ari with that sexy lean and the chest hair will never not do something to me. This. This is Ari getting up and making himself a pot of coffee when Duchess doesn’t think he’s awake yet.

As always, a great thank you to everyone who reads. I love your feedback in all forms. 🥰

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ari woke up to the creaking sound of the screen door at the front end of the cabin opening and closing. He immediately turned in the flannel sheets, reaching out for you, only to find your side of the bed still warm, but empty. Had you left something in the car? No way, he remembers checking one last time last night when bringing your bags into the cabin you had rented for the weekend. So what were you doing up when he knew this was a weekend built for sleeping in?

You and Ari were celebrating your one year anniversary together at the lake. Sure, you had your own cabin with gorgeous views, but this was a special occasion. And you didn’t live this close to water. A word to the wise: always take the opportunity to be near a body of water with Ari Levinson. He’ll most likely be shirtless, and that’s an image created by God himself. And definitely don’t turn down the opportunity of a canoe ride sunset picnic, either. The view is gorgeous…

But that was last night, and this is now. You woke up early in the hopes of getting a few minutes to prepare your surprise for him. A gift of true love to show how much you really valued Ari and took note of the meanings of his gestures. This was one you wanted to return: you were whittling him a spoon.

About a month into your relationship, Ari had gifted you one, along with his prized pocket knife over a bonfire in his backyard. He pulled out a block of wood to show you a few different techniques and how to get started, and that was one of the first moments you realized you really just enjoyed being with him. Sharing knowledge. Growing.

At the time, you didn’t know the significance of either of those things: the spoon and the knife. You just thought whittling was a cute little thing he did since he had the time and he had handed the knife over because he wanted you to be prepared since you were newly living in the outdoors. Nearly a year later, now, though, you were finally almost finished with your spoon for him. And Ari was constantly still shopping, looking for a knife like the one he gave you since it was no longer in stock, unbeknownst to you.

You had no idea the level of skill that went into making something as simple, or so you believed, as a spoon. It definitely wasn’t a throwaway gesture. And for him to do it that early into your relationship? You realized how much you’ve meant to him this entire time.

You could tell the knife was special, too, by the way he looked at you when you used it. He loved knowing it was almost always on your person, especially on hikes, and he was always trying to show you how versatile it was.

All that was left were the finishing touches: completing a small little carving of a bear in the handle, and then sanding it. If you played it right, you should be able to finish before Ari gets up. He should be exhausted from all of last night’s….activities still. So you had carefully slipped out of bed, reluctantly leaving his naked warmth, as to not jostle him, grabbed your supplies, and headed out onto the cabin’s wraparound balcony which overlooked the lake. It was a beautiful view, which in a few minutes would host the sunrise.

When Ari woke up in a jolt, he immediately padded through the cabin, looking through the windows to see where your possibly could’ve gone. As he got to the kitchen, halfway to the front door, he was relieved to see your head peeking over the outdoor furniture. Ari breathed out his sigh of relief as he moved around the large island and started to make a pot of coffee. You hadn’t even done that, probably out of fear of waking him, which led him to wonder what you were keeping so secretive.

He pulled down a mug from the cabinet, rinsing and filling it with hot water as the coffee brewed, to get the mug warm, doing the same for yours. He leaned back against the counter as he waited, looking out towards you. The amazing scenery around him didn’t hold a flame to your glow, even coming from someone who had admired nature his entire life. This was a dream vacation for him, but honestly, Ari would’ve visited a garbage dump as long as it was with you.

The front door surprisingly blocked out the loud whirring of the old machine since you didn’t stir as the last drops of coffee sputtered out. Ari poured out the water and filled the mugs, sauntering towards the side door of the cabin to the balcony. If you could be secretive, he could, too. And this door was much quieter.

As Ari rounded the corner of the porch, the high-pitched scratching of sandpaper became louder. He perched himself at the corner, silently setting down your mug and leaning against the railing. He just stood and watched you for another second, the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you were completing a task he was all too familiar with.

You held the spoon in front of you, checking if you missed any spots when you were startled by the sound of slurping coming from your side. You jumped, dropping the spoon when you saw Ari taking a sip of his coffee. The smile that grew on his face when your eyes met took your attention from his nearly nude form. He must’ve slipped shorts on before coming out here. Shame. You were about the same, though, only wearing a fresh shirt you plucked from his duffel on your way out here. Now he had one less clean shirt to wear? Tragic. Guess he was gonna have to find a way to deal. You wouldn’t mind.

Your face mirrored his, beaming in the soft haze of first light, before your face fell when realized what he had walked out to see you doing. You scrambled to pick the spoon up off the deck, tucking it behind your back. You sighed, slumping back in your chair and raising an eyebrow at him.

Ari continued to smirk at you, taking another sip of his coffee before clearing his throat. His voice still held a bit of a deep grumble from how early it was. “Good morning, Duchess. Keeping secrets, are we?”

He gave a light laugh as he grabbed your mug, making his way over to sit next to you. You grabbed your coffee in defeat, taking a big gulp before setting it down next to the knife on the small coffee table and turning to face him. Ari pulled your legs over his in habit as you reached up to stroke his bearded cheek.

“Less of a secret and more of a surprise. I thought you weren’t going to be up yet.” You leaned in to Ari kissing your forehead and pulled away.

Ari set down his mug next to yours and took the opportunity to pull you close, resting his chin on top of your head before pulling away again and leaning in for a proper kiss.

“Kinda hard to sleep when you’re missing…And you’re a loud walker. Zero stealth skills, Angel.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and lightly smacked his chest before reaching a hand behind you.

“I’m sneaky enough to have gotten by for this long. Now do you want your surprise or not?”

Ari knew the drill by this point, closing his eyes and pulling a large hand from its place rubbing your back and holding it out between the two of you as you pulled out the spoon. His one eye cracked open just enough for him to catch a glance at your proud smile before closing it again. He hadn’t gotten a very good look at what exactly you were doing before, so when he felt the curved wood hit his palm, Ari froze with stark, full realization.

His long eyelashes fluttered open just for tears to immediately soak them. He looked down and examined the smooth, freshly sanded wood before looking back up at you. You were immediately struck with worry at his visceral reaction.

“What, did I do something wrong? Are you upset I used your knife for it? Is it that bad? You don’t have to accept it.” You bit your lip in worry as Ari shook his head and ran his thumb over the small, intricate bear engraving in the handle. He could see how much time you put into it.

He quickly pulled the spoon to his chest like he would die if it ever left his grip. “No, it’s perfect. I love it so much. I’m just so…happy. You made this? Just for me?” He was touched beyond belief.

You giggled as tears began to fill your eyes at his reaction. “Yeah, of course I did. It took me way longer than I expected, but now we match.”

Ari nodded and sniffled before pulling you into a tight hug, tucking his face into your neck. You shivered at the vibration against you as he spoke. “God, I love it so much. I love you so much. I can’t believe you made this. Thank you.”

You ran your hands up and down his back in a soothing gesture, moving upward until you were at the nape of his neck. You began running your nails through his hair and Ari pulled away to look at you, deep blue eyes sparkling in the first few rays of the sunrise. He moved to set down the spoon, careful to keep an eye on it before he dragged you to straddle his lap.

“Really, Duchess. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. How long did it take you?”

You continued scratching his head as his eyes closed in satisfaction. “Hmm, about a year. I worked on it on and off. It’s not very easy, especially the little carving.”

Ari hummed. “Yeah, I bet. It’s absolutely amazing. I’ve never tried anything like that but you did great. You put me on it.” He opened his eyes and beamed up at you.

“Of course I did. You’re my sweet Bear. You deserve the same as you give. I love you so much.” You returned the smile and leaned in to kiss him.

Your tongues danced together in a tango of deep, overwhelming desire before pulling away, Ari pulling your hips down tighter against his crotch. You didn’t miss the deepening smirk on his face and the fire filling his eyes. “You know, it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful sunrise. What do you say you and I go up to the railing to watch it together?”

The sunrise was beautiful, painting the sky in pastel strokes of orange, red, and purple. You were enjoying the view, bent at the hips, leaned over the railing, with Ari right behind you, holding you close. Your shirt was hiked up, hanging on your hard nipples as Ari’s shorts hung just low enough for him to have pulled out his cock.

Ari was dragging against your walls in slow, deep strokes, as one hand rubbed your clit in circles in time with his hips and the other gently tweaked a nipple. His head rested on your shoulder, body molded against yours, as he looked out over the lake with you.

Every now and then, Ari turned his head to kiss your neck in the spot just above where it met your shoulder. The one that made you let out those delicious moans every time. He whispered in your ear as your one hand squeezed his forearm over your chest, the other digging into the railing as you braced yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so amazing. So talented. I can tell you worked so hard for me. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

You whined and clenched at that, thriving on Ari’s praise and having thought the same about forever before, but never verbalizing it. Ari was it for you and the perfect shared moment proved it. You couldn’t have expected a better reaction to your gift. To have someone just as understanding of the little things as you was soothing to your soul. To have someone who carried their gestures with the same weight was one in billions and you couldn’t believe you found him.

You threw your head back against Ari’s shoulder, whimpering between heavy breaths. “So good, I-hmmm- I love you, Bear.”

You felt Ari’s chest rumble as he moaned against you, picking up his pace and grunting near your ear, captivated by the way the sun was hitting both of you, lighting up the heavenly moment. “Ah, I love you more, Angel. You’re so good to me. So sweet.“

He rubbed your clit faster, both of you rising towards your peak with the sun that was nearly cresting the horizon, almost fully in the sky. Your eyes squeezed shut before Ari looked over and caught it, taking his hand off your clit. “Ah ah ah, eyes open. Don’t wanna miss this moment.”

You forced your eyelids apart and looked over at Ari, a thin sheet of sweat causing some of his hair to stick to his forehead. The golden light was highlighting his features and weaving through his beard gorgeously. He was right, you wouldn’t have forgiven yourself for missing out on this view. He put his hand back on your clit and rubbed in furious circles, leaning in to kiss you harder, sloppier. When he pulled away, he softly smiled at you and spoke through red kiss-soaked lips. “Good girl.”

His warm breaths hit your cheek as your smile mixed with your blissed-out face. Your pussy fluttered and squeezed harder. You could feel yourself getting close as Ari’s thrusts became uneven. “Please. Please, Ari. Give it to me. Come with me.”

Your words set him off as Ari spilled into the condom within your tightening walls. He continued rubbing your clit and shuddering in response to your rhythmic squeezing against him as you leaned more of your weight into the railing, gasping for air after your release. Ari placed a kiss against your shoulder as he gingerly pulled out. He rested his forehead between your shoulder blades before quickly running inside to dispose of the condom and refresh your coffees.

When he came back out, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back close to his front and kissing you cheek. You turned and smiled up at him, nestling in closer, enjoying the view of the brightened trees and reflective water, surrounded by Ari, nature, and nothing else for miles.

Ari’s eyes twinkled when he caught your gaze again and held it. “This is the most amazing day ever already, Duchess.” He kissed your forehead. Neither of you had even been up for an hour yet, but you agreed that there’s not much else that could make it any better.

“Absolutely perfect, Bear.”

Bonus A/N: Whittling a spoon for someone is like, a HUGE sign of love. That PAIRED WITH giving over your prized knife? Y’all can deduce what that means. And yes, I do have a spoon whittled, waiting for the right day… what about it??

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

@jamneuromain

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

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cuffmeinblack · 6 months

Text

Silk and Lace

Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow

3.9k words

Summary: Sebastian's teasing plants an idea in Ominis' head for a night of indulgent roleplay; and he isn't one to do things by halves.

ao3 link

A/n: It's maid Sebastian round two, this time with our lovely Ominis, and he's wearing the dress that altered my brain chemistry. Another smut fic inspired by Krabat. I'm sure it won't be the last.

Ominis ran his fingers over the delicate silk that clung to every crevice of his lithe frame. It had been made for him, quite literally. Finding a dressmaker with the required discretion for such a commission has been challenging. He daren’t use his family connections, begrudgingly though he might have for other favours; those particular craftsmen were bound to his father and not to him. No, this ensemble had required a talented hand from a less reputable source. A man who had clad the elite in sumptuous garments not usually discussed in polite society; one who understood and shared Ominis' particular proclivities.

Sebastian would be pleased.

Ominis had been told that the silk was a pleasing colour that brought out the jewel-like quality of his eyes and contrasted with the iridescence of his fair skin. Whatever that meant. He was simply pleased that the slits that parted the fabric sat high enough as to enable freedom of movement. His fingertips skimmed the seam, almost to his waist. Ludicrously high and infinitely alluring, he was sure. The neckline was a little more demure, though he was assured it gave the garment just the right balance of sophistication and down-right seductiveness.

The underwear left little to the imagination with its high legs and skimpy straps, but hugged him comfortably. The dressmaker had even been so kind as to suggest accessories; Ominis had opted for silk gloves held up with buckles that sat cold against his biceps, and a pair of French stilettos. The most uncomfortable pair of torture devices he'd yet encountered, but they did a fantastic job of accentuating his calves that dipped under his wandering fingertips. They also gave him extra height. He felt…powerful.

Every inch of him was shaved and oiled, his hair styled in his perfected coiffure. All he needed now was his beloved, who awaited him in their living room. Rife with anticipation, Ominis stood with surprising grace and poise considering the teetering heights he'd now obtained. Heels clicking on the parquet, he made his way through their shared home. He didn't need his wand; this route was one he'd made hundreds of times before. Whilst he knew what awaited him his veins still thrummed with excitement, his pounding heart growing stronger with every click and clack of his approach.

The idea had been born from a throwaway comment from Sebastian, referring to Ominis as the lady of the house. Merely because Ominis was the only one with any sort of domestic intuition—left to Sebastian, no doubt their affairs would be in disarray. He'd prickled and spat back a scathing retort.

“What does that make you, Sebastian? The staff?”

Sebastian had chuckled and let his voice drop into that altogether too silky baritone; the one he used when trying to coax Ominis into bed.

“If that's what the lady so desires.”

Ominis recalled the moment fondly and the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. The cheek of him. As his fingers clasped the ridged brass doorknob, he hesitated to let his face fall into one of haughty indifference before twisting his hand. No sooner had Ominis pushed the door open and taken a single step inside than Sebastian had answered his entrance with his usual lack of decorum.

“Fucking hell.”

“Language, Sebastian. That is precisely why you hold the role of servant in this house.”

Ominis approached the source of the outburst; the leather sofa that sat opposite the fireplace. He moved slowly, purposely elongating his limbs with every step, holding his chin high and chest proud. He could only imagine what Sebastian’s expression must look like, but the low groan that filtered through the sound of crackling flames told Ominis all he needed to know. He perched on the cushion, letting the silk fall to one side to expose his legs; there was no use in being demure when it was clear what they both desired. Ominis found an unexpected obstacle when rearranging himself; warm, firm and as smooth as his own skin now lay.

“Feet on the furniture?” Ominis tutted.

“I've been waiting a while. It was worth the wait, though.”

Sebastian's calloused hands gripped Ominis' thigh and he swatted it away with a sharp rap on his knuckles. Ominis was nothing if not fastidious when it came to maintaining their roles during play.

“Let me…ah.”

He ran his hand up Sebastian's leg, expecting but never finding the hem of his outfit. Only when he skimmed the unmistakeable bulge of his manhood did he find the frilly lace.

“Well now, this is wildly inappropriate.”

“I’m not here to muck out the fireplace, Ominis.”

“Au contraire,” he purred mockingly. “I expect this room to be thoroughly dusted before we move to the bedroom.”

“I can't tell if you're serious or not, Ominis.”

“Deadly.”

Ominis allowed himself a chuckle as Sebastian groaned and grumbled off his comfortable perch. The perfect opportunity to sample the delights of his exposed figure presented itself as soon as he stood upright, leaving Ominis free to slip his hand beneath the obscenely short skirt.

“My, my,” Ominis hummed as he was met with yet more bare skin, hot to the touch.

“Easy access,” Sebastian commented.

The cotton wasn't as luxurious as Ominis' skirt, fitting with their respective parts. However, the lace trim and flouncy design made Ominis' imagination run wild, with the removable apron tied in a neat bow of particular interest as he fingered the fabric.

“Is the lady of the house pleased?” Sebastian drawled.

“Immensely. Now, do be an obedient little maid and pick up that feather duster. I shan't be kept waiting much longer.”

The request was bordering on absurdity, but how could Sebastian say no when asked by Ominis in that dress with that demanding tone? It was enough to make his cock twitch underneath his ruffled skirt. Sebastian picked up the feather duster, his mind occupied with other lewd thoughts about how the implement could be used. How long would Ominis tease him for, he wondered? Granted, they had all night, but he'd hoped that the majority would be spent with their bodies entangled and not removing cobwebs from the cornicing.

Ominis followed him in his towering heels, the already slender and elongated frame made even more so. Sebastian had never appreciated his legs quite as much as the moment Ominis perched against the writing desk. He knew exactly what he was doing, leaning back on his silk-enrobed hands, back slightly arched. He even lifted a leg onto the chair revealing yet more of that delicious ivory skin. So high was that slit that Sebastian could see the galaxy of beauty marks that flecked his hip bone.

Sebastian was salivating.

“Feet on the furniture?” he said, echoing Ominis' earlier complaint.

“Awfully rude of you to comment on such things. Especially when you've yet to finish your cleaning.”

Sebastian hummed in feigned annoyance and returned to dusting, always keeping his eyes on Ominis. He almost cleared the mantle of ornaments he was so distracted, prompting a knowing chuckle from the blond. Sebastian was sure his legs had spread further since he sat on the edge of the mahogany. The glint of a buckle caught Sebastian’s eye and drew his gaze. Sebastian might have forgone undergarments altogether, but Ominis had opted for something more tangible and somehow much more alluring. He caught a peek of black lace underneath that shimmering green dress and felt his manhood swell.

The tedium of dusting whilst Ominis sat so tantalisingly within reach was sheer torture, and entirely the point. By the time Sebastian could get his hands on Ominis, no doubt he would be begging for his touch. In the meantime, Ominis provided a constant stream of criticism meant only to rile him up, whilst following him around the room.

“I want that bookcase spotless, Sebastian,” Ominis said whilst slipping his hand so far up the inseam of his legs he grazed his balls.

Sebastian groaned and almost fell off his precarious perch, the small wooden stool wobbling as his legs almost gave way. He grumbled indignantly and stepped off of the step, using the sturdy bookcase to steady himself. His head was already dizzy and Ominis had barely touched him.

“It's done. I've dusted the whole damned room.”

Ominis merely hummed in assent and continued fondling his tight balls, his cock now fully erect and throbbing for attention.

“Have you done the light fixture?”

“Oh come on, Ominis…”

“Your pathetic whinging won't get you anywhere.”

With that scathing remark, Ominis traced the curve of Sebastian's leg to slip a finger between his cheeks. Ominis' digit probed and circled his hole and Sebastian let him, bending forward slightly to allow him access like a bitch in heat, moaning all the while.

“Please, Ominis,” he gasped as a knuckle grazed his right ring.

“Now he says please. You could have had my cock inside you half an hour ago if you'd just asked nicely, Sebastian.”

“You’re a git…ah!”

Ominis' finger delved further inside Sebastian, gently stroking in rhythm to the gentle caress of his thigh. Sebastian slumped against the bookcase, dislodging Ominis’ careful arrangement of the myriad texts. Somewhere behind him, amongst his heavy breathing and low moans he heard the blond tutting as a hardback fell to the floor.

“Can’t get the staff these days,” Ominis chuckled, pressing himself into Sebastian’s back.

Now he could feel what Ominis wouldn’t divulge with words; that he was just as aroused as Sebastian himself. Beneath the thin layers of silk and lace, his stiffness strained against the pretty lingerie and pressed hard into Sebastian’s behind.

“I’ll enjoy peeling this off of you.”

Ominis’ sultry voice slithered down Sebastian’s ear to ignite a burning desire in his chest, his stomach, his groin. His entire body seemed to tingle and ache whilst Ominis continued his probing, teasing increasingly broken whines from his mouth. The time for shame had passed, and Sebastian let his desperation spill forth. Only vaguely aware of what Ominis’ other hand was doing, he felt a change in pressure around his waist, sometime after Ominis had inserted a second finger.

The sounds that clawed their way out of his throat were borderline obscene, and he felt for their neighbours. A jumbled series of expletives amongst his pathetic keening were all he could manage as Ominis began stretching him and his lips finally met his neck. Those soft, perfect lips that Sebastian dreamed about so often. Ominis’ mouth might have been Sebastian’s favourite part of him; capable of such witticisms, yet such obscenities. Not only was he adept with language, but he certainly knew how to put that silver tongue to use in other ways.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom, shall we?” Ominis suggested, a whisper against his ear.

Oh thank Merlin.

Sebastian was about ready to start grovelling. He groaned as Ominis removed his fingers and left his neck with a gentle nip at the skin. The click of heels indicated Ominis’ departure, and he knew he was meant to follow obediently. That he did, mesmerised by his lover’s movements; every inch of him dripping in elegance. So transfixed he was on the shapeliness of his tight little waist, Sebastian almost missed the fact that he had his apron balled up in his fist. His blood raged to think of what plans he had for the ridiculous cotton accessory—Ominis always had a motive, in every little thing he did. The removal had been carefully considered.

Case in point, their bedroom had been prepared beforehand. Whilst Sebastian had been busying himself lounging on the sofa, Ominis had set the scene for their night of passion. Far from the harsh light of the living room, that which greeted Sebastian as he stepped into the bedroom was soothing. The amber glow of the candles warmed Ominis’ skin, the silk that hugged his musculature to perfection now shimmered in the gently flickering light. Dare he say, the man standing before him looked ethereal in his beauty.

“Are you staring, Sebastian?”

The silence had obviously been a giveaway, and Sebastian chuckled quietly before pouncing. Fuck the roles and their little game; Sebastian had waited hours. He pressed his lips against Ominis’ before the blond could object, hands grasping greedily at those exposed hips and skimpy lingerie. Oh, how he’d like to rip that particular garment off with his teeth. Ominis appeared to allow the advance, a breathy sigh slithering into Sebastian’s open mouth. Soon their tongues entangled, a sweet relief to be caressed by those soft, moistened lips. He slid his hands over every inch of Ominis’ delectable body in reach, and once he’d explored it all, he dropped to his knees as if in worship.

“Tsk, so eager,” Ominis teased.

His dishevelled hair and flushed skin almost broke the illusion of his cool façade, until Ominis regained his composure in a flash.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Sebastian replied.

Ominis’ retort never came, instead he perched on the edge of their quilted bed and beckoned Sebastian over. Before Sebastian could clamber over him and claim his prize, his chest was impaled by a sharp patent leather heel. The shoe dug into his flesh, almost bruising his ribcage in the process. Lucky, then, that he was so distracted with the seductive look on Ominis’ face, and the view this particular obstacle afforded him. With his leg raised, Sebastian saw everything underneath that elegant dress of his. Milky white skin travelled from foot to thigh, seemingly forever, until it reached the crease of his hip. There, Sebastian just about lost his mind.

The flash of lace had been a prelude to this…this work of art. The lingerie disappeared between his cheeks; truth be told, there was barely anything of it. The lace was decadent, finished in gold and he was sure (unless he was actually quite mad) that it depicted entwined snakes. How fitting, Sebastian mused. Of course, his focus wasn’t really on the details of the underwear, more how Ominis’ impressive cock looked squeezed into it. Perhaps he’d been contained at one point, but now fully erect, his length spilled from the top to reveal his plump, pink head.

“Gods, you look magnificent,” Sebastian sighed.

Ominis dug his heel in further, drawing another pained groan from Sebastian’s mouth, and he once again dropped to the floor in submission.

“Tell me again,” Ominis prompted.

“You…look…magnificent…”

Sebastian punctuated each word with a kiss to Ominis’ silky smooth leg, tracing the contour of his shin to his knee and inner thigh. There he hesitated only slightly, asking silent permission. Ominis gave it in the form of parting his legs and Sebastian felt his cock harden even more, if that were even possible. He trailed his lips to that crevice he enjoyed; to the sensitive skin just next to Ominis’ hard length, he bestowed a gentle kiss. Slowly he pushed the jade silk away to really get a view of him in all his glory, saliva pooling in his mouth as he pressed his lips firmly to the lace-clad shaft.

“Let me suck your cock, Ominis. Please.”

Ominis smirked ever so slightly at the plea then laced his fingers through Sebastian’s fluffy brunet mane.

“How could I resist such an enticing offer?”

A little pressure from the base of his skull guided Sebastian back to Ominis’ lap as the blond leaned back on the bed, head flung back in anticipation. Sebastian merely groaned and rolled his hips against thin air before getting to work. He licked a firm stripe up the length of that delicious cock, the lace rough against his tongue. With a dexterity that surprised him given his lustful intoxication, he clamped his teeth around the delicate band holding the whole ensemble up and tugged. It didn’t take much for the lingerie to fall away with the aid of Ominis’ rising hips. His lover chuckled, turning swiftly into a soft moan the second Sebastian enveloped his cock in his mouth’s warmth.

Pulse racing and head swimming, he revelled in the taste of him, merely licking and kissing the swollen tip for a long while. When he sensed Ominis’ impatience, he moved on, taking him deeper, deeper, deeper. Sebastian stroked himself as his tongue swirled around Ominis’ cock with each bob of his head, salacious moans filling the room amongst heavy breaths. The cacophony was exhilarating, but not loud enough to completely mask the rhythmic rustle of fabric or wet squelching of his slickened palm.

“I can hear you, Sebastian. If you want to come all that badly I’ll be the one to do it.”

Sebastian hummed a reply that no, he wasn’t ready quite yet. Wrapping his hand now glistening with his own arousal around Ominis’ shaft he began to suck him off in earnest. He moved his hand in time to his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to draw increasingly ragged moans from Ominis’ lips as the pressure built. Deeper he took him, until he felt the tight ring of muscle in his throat protest. Ominis appeared nonplussed by Sebastian's struggle, his thin fingers forcing his head to steady with a searing pain to his scalp.

“S-Sebastian…”

His composure finally broken, Ominis cried Sebastian's name as if the heavens themselves could hear him. When he finally relinquished his grip, Sebastian spluttered and gasped for breath, eyes glazed with unshed tears. If he hadn't been before, he was certainly desperate to be ravaged now.

“On the bed,” his demand came whilst Sebastian was still coughing.

Ominis' dexterous fingers made short work of Sebastian's ensemble whilst he busied himself with the delicate buttons around the blond’s neckline. When the dress finally fell away and they knelt facing each other naked, Sebastian thought that perhaps there was a God. No matter how many times he laid eyes on Ominis' form, he never failed to be rendered speechless. Even so, Ominis had a well thought out plan for that apron he'd stolen. Sebastian watched as he folded the fabric around itself, holding out the cotton ties with a deadpan expression.

“Be a good boy and put this in your mouth.”

“You want to gag me? After all your moaning and begging whilst I sucked you off?” Sebastian scoffed.

Ominis’ face pinched into a frown.

“Certainly. You make a poor servant so far, Sebastian. Do make it up to me, won't you?”

Sebastian grinned like a young lad in a sweet shop but kept up the pretense of indignation, huffing for Ominis’ benefit. He took the apron and bit down on the cotton, the uncomfortable sensation of cloth against his teeth not enough to rid him of the mounting excitement that went straight to his neglected cock. He tied it as Ominis' hands covered his own, pulling the ties just that little bit tighter until he was satisfied. Saliva pooled on the fabric. Sebastian waited.

“On your knees for me tonight, my love.”

Sebastian didn't need telling twice; he scrambled on the bed to position himself, gently squeezing his cock as he waited for Ominis. The blond's fingers found his half-prepped hole easily enough, this time sliding in his digits with extra lubrication that warmed and tingled pleasantly.

“Come on, hurry up,” Sebastian had tried to say, only producing a glob of spit and garbled protest.

Ominis laughed and took his sweet time, curling his fingers to make Sebastian whine against his gag. When finally Ominis was satisfied, Sebastian breathed a sigh of anticipatory relief and pressed his face into the bed sheets. Ominis finally lined his cock up with his entrance and pushed firmly and decisively, and Sebastian swore that the moment was the best of his life. As if he'd been waiting years to be filled so satisfyingly, every nerve ending seemed set ablaze. He gripped the sheets until his knuckles whitened as he felt the press of Ominis' balls against his cheeks. A hard smack to his behind nearly sent him over the edge of his sanity.

“More, please…fuck, you feel so good,” Sebastian once again tried to say.

There was little point to his begging but he did it anyway; he had a suspicion Ominis liked it so. He groaned louder still once Ominis started to roll his hips, his own gasping sighs adding to Sebastian's pleasure. He did so love to hear Ominis in the throes of passion; his usually composed demeanour crumbling with every touch, every thrust. The sultry voice behind him filled the room as Sebastian reeled with pleasure, only vaguely aware of the words spoken

“I have to say…I miss you moaning my name…but at least I don't have to…endure the utter filth that pours out of your mouth.”

Sebastian’s muffled reply was muted by a hard thrust and increase in tempo that made fresh tears well in his eyes. He was approaching the point of being unable to speak, unable to move, merely able to whine whilst Ominis pounded him into the bed. That sweet spot inside him was endlessly caressed with every stroke until he was only a mess of limbs, a toy for Ominis' pleasure. Sebastian was close to his climax, the constant stimulation altogether too much to bear any longer; he needed an outlet for the agonisingly sweet tension pooled inside him.

“Close already?” Ominis breathed against his neck.

Wandering hands travelled over Sebastian's burning skin, arriving at his weeping cock. Ominis held him, unmoving, only the pummelling from behind providing any sort of friction into that palm. Sebastian whined again, head fuzzy and desperation growing. The cotton in his mouth was saturated with drool and tears alike by this point. An utter mess of Ominis' making.

“Please…,” he begged once again, the tone more than indicative of what he desired.

“Such a little slut, Sebastian…”

That had done it. Sebastian cried out as he reached his peak and orgasm exploded. Ripping through his body like wildfire, his limbs convulsed under the sheer pleasure, only vaguely aware that Ominis was still fucking him senseless through it all. He'd collapsed onto the bed with his sensitive cock trapped beneath him, now leaking all over their very expensive quilt. Merlin knows how many bodily fluids this bed has already seen.

Sebastian finally fell limp after a while, breathless and whimpering as Ominis stayed buried deep inside him. The blond was still rock hard, thin fingers grabbing handfuls of freckled flesh and soft lips sending shivers down Sebastian's spine. Ominis might have been muttering praises in his ear, or maybe he was merely imagining it in the post-orgasm haze. He certainly felt his lover's weight on top of him, and the warm embrace that made him smile against his fabric binding.

Once Sebastian's breath had steadied, he felt Ominis shift and prompt him to turn. The release of pressure from his hole made him groan, Ominis’ heavy cock falling against his hip as he twisted on the bed. Finally, Sebastian could see the product of their lovemaking. He adored Ominis' flushed skin and the strands of hair falling over his opalescent eyes. He was simply the most beautiful thing he had ever and would ever lay eyes upon.

Ominis smiled softly with a hint of seduction. Oh, he was far from done. When the blond's hands travelled to his face to finger the apron's tie, Sebastian grabbed Ominis' wrist to stop him. He wasn't finished quite yet, either.

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebinis #ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

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( 🥐 anon )

i'm rewatching season one and tommy is yelling at steve for "running away". it just made me think of eddie and how he criticized himself for running when chrissy got vecna'd.

what if eddie survived the upside down and steve is like "why didn't you run?" and eddie explains that he didn't know why, he just felt like he should fight. it reminds steve of that time he stopped running (when jonathan and nancy were attacked in the house).

i don't know where i am going with this, but i figured you might have something to add if you wanted. :D

Hello again :D

Oh my beloved parallel <333 I thought about this all day and ended up writing a lil something about it :)

---

'I've been meaning to ask you something for a while,' Steve says. He's sitting right next to Eddie's hospital bed, like he has been often these past days, keeping him company and making him laugh and helping him with every little thing. It sounds oddly serious and Eddie just frowns at him in response.

'Why didn't you run?'

The question hangs in the air between them for a couple of seconds. Then, Eddie scoffs. 'Says the guy who insisted on being the one at the front lines,' he retorts.

Instead of bickering back, Steve stares at him, seemingly taking his time to carefully consider what Eddie had meant to be a throwaway remark.

'You know, the first time all this shit went down... I kinda did the same,' he finally admits. 'It was Tommy, of all people, who got in my head. Told me that I was always running away. And that's exactly what I did when I saw what was going on at the Byers' house.'

Steve had told Eddie all about it, earlier: about how he showed up to apologize to Jonathan and instead got robed into that whole Upside Down shitshow.

'Nance told me to leave. She pointed a fucking gun at my face and told me to get the hell out. And then the lights started doing their freaky flashy stuff and I - I ran.' He sighs. 'And then I came back,' he adds quietly. 'So that's why you didn't run, too?'

'I kept thinking about Chrissy,' Eddie says, his voice barely more than a whisper. 'How I left her there to die. I couldn't - I just couldn't run away again. Simple as that.'

Steve keeps looking into his eyes intently, holding his gaze, as if he's searching for something. Eddie almost forgets to breathe, feeling exposed and vulnerable with those soft brown eyes on him and the silence around the two of them.

'I guess this is where I should say "please don't do that again next time",' Steve says, his voice sounding strangely choked as he cuts through the silence. 'But apparently we both know it's not that simple, huh?'

Eddie nods, still stunned under the intensity of Steve's gaze. He thinks back to how it felt when he thought he was dying. It had been terrifying and awful and goddamn painful more than anything else, obviously. But there had also been something that almost felt like relief. He knew, in that moment, that he could never go back to being a coward again. That he had faced it all and didn't regret trying to be better, trying to protect his people.

Maybe he should also be brave in a different way, he thinks. So he stretches out his hand, rests it on Steve's, and gently squeezes.

#thank you for asking <3 #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fruity ficlet #stranger things

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infini-tree · 1 year

Photo

now for something completely different (and something of a third anniversary post)!

as i’ve stated once in a while about the music room scene in the comic: it was one of several scenes i’ve been extremely excited to draw. its gone through a lot of revisions, which is detailed here.

it, along with captain’s first appearance was literally one of several reasons why this part of sticky notes au exists as a comic as opposed to just writing it as a fanfic. sure, it may have taken less time to write, but words can’t really compare to the buildup, gutpunch, and subsequent tone shift that came with that one scene.

i’ve literally been revising this one specific part since october 2020, which puts into perspective as to how long i agonized over it (for reference, the scene went live online in fall 2022*). so have that process to the lead-up to the snap.

* (disclaimer: a good chunk of the scene was in my drafts for months prior to its posting, but you get the idea.)

late 2020 (pics 1-2):

the original plan was for krupp to fall. i never figured out how or why-- maybe he just slipped on some vc-barf! i think some versions had him additionally fall back into the stairs as a result of that. but in that moment the boys just took advantage of that moment and snapped their fingers to switch him over before he hit the ground. this was also back when krupp also knew the method of switching, hence his hands in the first pic.

early 2021 (pics 3-5):

still had the concept of krupp knowing about snapping, but i swapped it to the idea to him learning it right at the moment before he switches over in the coming months. early sticky notes krupp and captain are learning how this works and having their initial assumptions about the other challenged, so i figured it would be the more appropriate story beat for the whole thing at the time.

i don’t remember the context of the comic thumbnails in the 4th photo, i think i was just playing with how the snap itself was going to be illustrated. but the right panel was a different version of it. krupp was initially supposed to say... something. i don’t think i planned that out in specifics, but the point was that he was supposed to be genuinely afraid. the hand was going to come into view, and was blurry. when it snaps, the hand is the one in focus and krupp is blurry. the change in focus is all symbolic. here’s my original commentary on the subject:

theres going to be a future page where the boys start talking but it just continues to linger on krupp's pov for a lil bit and how he feels abt the boys just being v casual and callous about the fact that theyre making him fight a monster (semantics about how its CAPTAIN whos gonna fight notwithstanding)

before yanking the pov back to the boys for some sweet sweet dissonance

a version of this dissonance does make it in the final comic, so there’s that.

2022 (pics 6-9):

we’re almost there folks. the trio of poses (and gif made of those 3 poses) was from a version of events that had less block-busting. basically, the gag eel was at the door much sooner, and running out of options, the boys essentially say “the stealthy [prank] option isn’t working, he’s dry enough, we have to do it now”. krupp is confused and panicked on the fact that there’s a monster and this whole bit in the music room was a set-up.

he starts panicking and hurling accusations/theories about how they did it. he even had a throwaway line along the lines of “did you steal one of melvin’s inventions [to make me into captain]”. that line was immediately scrapped since mentioning him felt a little out of left field at this point of the story and i wanted to keep the scope small.

while in this version of the thumbnails, the frames were meant to gradually zoom in to krupp’s face, i did do a set of full body poses just in case i did want something more than a waist up... mostly to make sure if krupp’s pose and hand placement could be feasible

note the fact that he’s covering his head but not his ears. he’s really working off of assumptions

#mells draws a thing #captain underpants #sticky notes au #anyway sticky notes is 3!!! wild #anyway THROWS commentary at you

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tyrantisterror · 1 year

Text

youtube

Quentin Tarantino gets a lot of flack for acting as if his movies are deeper than they actually are, which I think is for the most part pretty fair - the dude is very much up his own ass as a writer and his later films suffer a lot for it. But I do think there's some genuinely good writing of substance in his movies, and in particular I think Jules from Pulp Fiction is, like, one of my favorite examples of a villain redemption arc in fiction.

This whole exchange sticks in my head because it's a great example of a character expositing on their character arc while still feeling in-character - I think one of my favorite bits, one that really makes it feel genuine, is when Jules brings up his little Bible speech pre-kill catchphrase and mentions that he originally only said it because it sounded raw on a surface level, without ever thinking about what it meant until recently. It feels like a person genuinely talking out the process of self-examination they've been going through, and the admission that some of their actions were done without thinking, but still have weight anyway, is just really... I dunno, it's good man. He's trying to figure himself out in the context of this quote he originally only liked on the surface level, peering into it closely to figure out why he liked it, why it appealed to him, and hoping that figuring that out will help him figure out how to be the better man he now finds himself wanting to be.

It's meta but in a genuinely clever way - a person finding themselves in the context of a piece of fiction that they initially liked for shallow reasons. A character who becomes a well-rounded individual by living through a throwaway badass line - a piece of pulp fiction, one might even say.

And in this short exchange they really sell that character change. You believe that Jules is truly trying to be the shepherd, to be a better human, to no longer be the tyranny of evil men and help other weak men who could become it find a better path instead. He gives those lovesick kids a chance to make something of themselves, a wakeup call not dissimilar from his own. He's not the shepherd yet, but he's trying real hard. It's lowkey inspiring and something you don't see coming in a movie that's otherwise been kind of devoted to shallow fun - I think that's why it's put at the end despite chronologically taking someplace in the middle of the film's timeline. This is the moment that makes the movie have a point beyond just fun violence and excess.

#Youtube

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kissingghouls · 1 year

Text

Let the Poison Spill

Chapter Eight - Wrong (ao3) // (previous chapter) // (list)

Cardinal Copia x Reader, Terzo x Reader

summary: Your routine in the Order is about to change. (3400 words)

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, Copia x Reader, Terzo x Reader, Secret Society, Horror Themes, Blood, a tiny bit of magic?, more tags on ao3

Sister Imperator almost caught you.

It was one thing to be found outside of your room after curfew, but getting caught by Imperator would’ve meant explanations and punishments you couldn’t handle. You held your breath, waiting for her to pass while considering praying to every god and devil you could think of. The soft click of her kitten heels made their way down the hall and out of earshot before you let yourself breathe again.

It wasn’t like you were sneaking out for fun, you weren’t even granted that luxury anymore. Ever since that trip to the archives, you were doomed to spend the last few moments before first light with Secondo. As a grumpy, bossy, bitter old man he was hardly your first choice of companion. Secondo didn’t trust anyone as far as he could throw them—least of all you.

For the last few days, the two of you had been secretly meeting in various empty spaces of the abbey. Any quiet space served as a makeshift examination room, as though you were receiving regular checkups from a doctor. He fed you different tinctures and potions, some of which were the most disgusting things you’d ever had to choke down, but you received no sympathy from the stoic man. He’d watch you with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown setting creases in his forehead while absolutely nothing happened. There would be another ten minutes of him tearing through Ritual books in the hopes of finding out just what the hell was going on with you.

You were grateful for his help, of course, even if it did come at some odd magical cost. But he insisted everything stay private; he wouldn’t even let his own brother accompany you on these little visits. Apparently, he trusted Terzo even less than you, so there was no one around to hold your hand while Secondo drew your blood day after day.

“Sit still, Sorella,” he grumbled harshly.

You were trying. You were really trying, but the needle burned under your skin. You could have sat still if he didn’t have you perched on a desk built for an eight year old or let someone comfort you through all this. Just as Terzo wasn’t welcome to join you, you weren’t “allowed” to tell anyone else, not Mary and definitely not Copia. You began to suspect if Terzo hadn’t been Papa he would be left completely in the dark.

The only shining spot was how amused Secondo had been when he heard about Terzo and Omega’s outbursts. It was the only time the old man had offered you anything close to relief with a throwaway comment that Quintessence Ghouls—Omega in particular—had a flair for the dramatic.

When he finished, you pushed the sleeve of your habit down before hopping off the desk. Secondo busied himself placing drop after drop of your blood into concoctions he refused to tell you anything about. He waved you off dismissively, practically shooing you from the room.

It was a long walk from the Ministry Academy to the library. The pathway that led back to the main building had been cleared of snow overnight, the morning sun already working at whatever places the shovels had missed. The sidewalk was wet with slush, the mounds of snow framing the trail leaking thick rivers onto the pavement. The spiderweb pattern of pathways cut a deep trench through the piles of snow framing the edges of the grass. You didn’t have the chance to explore much of the grounds between your baptism and the ever-unfolding mysteries of the Order. Aside from the Academy, most of the other buildings dotting the hill remained unknown.

You really hoped someone would give you a straight answer about something soon.

“Wow, you like shit,” Mary said dryly as you dropped into the uncomfortable seat across from him. Mary looked like he always did, of course. But it was hard for anyone to see dark circles under your eyes when your face was painted like a skull.

You didn’t bother hiding the exaggerated eye roll or the glare that followed, shooting a hateful look across the office. He wasn’t wrong; not that you’d ever admit it. You knew your eyes were sunken and red and your cheeks were puffy no matter what you’d tried.

Sleep had been the furthest thing from your mind lately, a distant wish you weren’t sure you could have managed even with a sedative. Not with the ever growing list of threats you now had to deal with. Injury-causing nightmare. Lake monsters. Angry, suspicious Ghouls.

Your life was getting so fucking weird.

Having the body of the Anti-Pope curled protectively around you as he snored didn’t help either.

“Well? Let’s hear it,” Mary started, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at you expectantly, one eyebrow raised like they were about to hear the greatest story ever told.

“What?” you grumbled, reaching for a cup of coffee that had become too cold to drink long before you made it to the library.

“What’s your brilliant excuse for waltzing in late with no sleep?” Mary pinned you with an expectant look, head tilted to the side enough that is hair fell over his eyes.

“I—” Your mouth went dry immediately. Even if you could explain, you weren’t sure how much information you were allowed to share.

“I don’t have an excuse, Mary,” you finally admitted with a shake of your head. You could pin the whole thing on Terzo, or Secondo, or the monster in the lake, but you’d still be late for work. It really wasn’t Mary’s business where you’d slept or where you’d been. “But I am sorry.”

Mary sighed and pushed an old, heavy book toward you. He settled back, sizing you up before he spoke. “Look, I know it’s none of my business,” he started slowly and held up his hands in surrender. “But for the time being you should tell whoever you’re fucking to not keep you up all night.”

“What?” you squeaked, nearly choking on your coffee.

“Kitten, believe me I’m all for whatever you’ve got going on. But this shit?” He tapped the book in front of you. “You can’t take it lightly.”

You looked down at the weathered, old text. “What is this?”

“They’re Rituals,” he said flatly. “If you want me to be able to teach you—the thing about ritual work—it’s all tied to your emotional state. So, if you’re not sleeping, if you’re not taking care of yourself, you could get seriously hurt.”

“Mary, I was a little late for work. I don’t think you need to be worried—"

“I’m saying this shit is dangerous. For all of us,” he snapped. He heaved out a heavy breath and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I should be worried. I’m not exactly thrilled that we’re already approaching the subject. Clearly, you’re not ready for this, but Sister Imperator didn’t really leave any room for argument—”

“Sister Imperator?”

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She came to see me—well, more accurately she fucking tracked me down last night in the catacombs and basically demanded I start teaching you ritual work. Which, listen, I am more than happy to do, but this…this isn’t nearly enough time.”

You slumped against the back of the chair. “I don’t understand any of this. Why would she come to you about me?”

“About both of us, Kitten.” He paused, chewing the corner of his lip as he searched for the right words. “The Order is…planning something and whatever it is she clearly wants you and me to be a part of it.”

“Let me guess—a secret, important Ritual?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Apparently not so secret?”

You rolled your eyes in return. “Relax, I heard about it from a friend.”

“You must have friends in high places,” Mary grumbled. They perked up and looked around the room before leaning forward and whispering, “Is it Secondo? Are you sleeping with Secondo?”

“Even if I was, do you think I’d tell you?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t sleep with him. That dude parties. Also, he’s allegedly super terrified of commitment.”

“Wow. Remind me to never tell you anything.”

“Tell me or don’t, Kitten,” he said with an easy shrug. “But I’ll warn you, secrets like that don’t secret for very long in this place. Sooner or later, everyone will know your business.”

“People in a secret society can’t keep their mouths shut?”

He laughed. “Not about sex. But if you don’t want to gossip, we should get to work.”

Mary made a show of retrieving a key from the drawer in his desk, somehow shoving it into the pocket of their tight jeans. He motioned for you to follow, leading you to that same small room with the elevator that led to the archives. He was practically bouncing on his heels, excited to finally have a chance to show you the great chamber below. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you’d already been down there. With a smile, you followed him into the tiny cage and waited quietly as it rattled down the cable to the floors below.

“Kinda thought you’d be a little excited,” he said as the two of you reached the bottom.

“I am, I am. I’m just tired. This is amazing, Mary. Thank you.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” he snorted. “Your fancy friend already brought you down here, huh?”

You shrugged as he shoved you out of the elevator.

“I’m gonna figure it out, you know,” he warned. “Not many people have a key to the archives.”

“Can’t be that special if you have one,” you teased.

“Finally, she bites back!” he said and fondly tousled your hair. “You wanna start with a summoning?”

Rituals were far less exciting than Mary had led you to believe. All their threats about danger played on your mind as you shuffled through book after book in a chilly corner of the archives. It had been days of extensive research leading to blurred vision every night as you trudged back to your dorm to collapse. Mary warned you it would only get worse.

The long days left you no time for yourself, let alone anyone else. There were no more notes left on your bed or summons to the Cardinal’s office. Even Secondo’s check-ups had stopped. You barely saw anyone but Mary between breakfast and bed. You wouldn’t have had the strength to keep up with whatever game the members of the clergy were trying to play against each other anyway.

There was a silver lining to the endless streak of exhaustion. That horrible nightmare had not yet repeated itself. Instead, you were left dreamless each night, a blank void of nothing taking the place of the strange and vivid images that usually filled your nights.

The bruises on your arms and legs slowly faded. The angry red scrapes around your hips had also healed, making that particular secret a little easier to keep and carry. It didn’t stop Secondo from eyeing you suspiciously any time you crossed his path, but that was much easier to handle than the hateful looks Omega shot you any time he could. They were so blatant Mary’s friends had noticed the animosity from across the dining hall, but you didn’t have any satisfactory answers to their questions. You didn’t have satisfactory answers to your own questions.

There was an extensive section on Ghouls in the archives, but it was hard to explore under the ever-curious eye of your mentor. You were supposed to focus on the task at hand, but how were you supposed to clear your mind and fill it with incantations while the Order continued to deny the one thing they’d promised you? Mary had finally had enough when you managed to start that third fire, sending you away to cool off mentally and physically.

Your fingertips hovered over the titles in the section you’d been trying to run through for days. There was no way you’d be able to concentrate with so many questions bouncing around in your head. You knew the reason your rituals weren’t producing results had very little to do with your lack of talent or training, but the idea of telling Mary everything was just as unsettling. He gave up trying to figure out what was distracting you several days ago, or so you thought.

“Alright, spill,” he demanded.

“Fuck!” you shouted, nearly dropping the book you were inspecting. You turned to find Mary behind you leaning against the stacks with his arms crossed. Devious little shit.

“You’ve been far more interested in Ghouls than Rituals, so tell me what’s really going on.”

You hung your head. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

“If that was the case you would’ve just asked, Kitten. This is…something that’s scaring you.”

You sighed, letting your shoulders slump as you rested your head against the shelf. “Something happened the other day,” you admitted. “I haven’t been able to figure out what it was or who to ask. I don’t even really know how to explain it.”

“Hey,” he said softly and moved closer. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it, ok?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Omega doesn’t like me. That’s obvious by now, yeah?”

Mary nodded. “It has been brought up a couple of times.”

“A few nights ago, he grabbed my arm and…I don’t know…he did something. Then he started screaming at Terzo, telling him I’m ‘wrong.’”

“What do you mean wrong?” Mary asked loudly.

You reached out and smacked his arm. Hard. “Keep your voice down. I don’t know what he meant. He was just upset and then he was in Terzo’s room and Terzo,” you paused to let out a breath. “He yelled back at him, and he was so angry. He grabbed him by the throat and threatened him.”

Mary raised an eyebrow. “And why were you in Papa’s room?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mary. That’s your takeaway?”

“I’m just surprised! For what it’s worth, Omega’s never really liked sharing him, but he’s never attacked anyone over it. As far as I know—”

“You are focused on all the wrong things.”

“No, no, I’ve got it. The lake tried to drown you, you’ve pissed off Omega, and you’re fucking Papa. Are you trying to fill out a bingo card or something?”

“That’s not fair, Mary.”

“You might want to get used to it, Kitten. What do you think is going to happen when the rest of the abbey finds out what you’ve been up to?”

“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you—”

“Sister Imperator,” Mary said a little too loud, their body straightening at the sight of the nun.

“Mary,” she said flatly, nodding as you turned to face her. “Sister, might I borrow you for a second?”

You swallowed your argument and forced a smile. “Of course, Sister Imperator.”

“I’ll keep working on this,” Mary called after you, but it failed to comfort you.

Sister Imperator’s mouth made a straight line as she punched the buttons in the elevator. She didn’t say anything as the cage rattled and creaked its way above ground. The harsh grind of the breaks, a high-pitched squeal pierced your brain as the car jerked to a stop. She remained silent as she made her exit, pausing only momentarily to make sure you followed.

She led you out of the library and through the gilded halls of the abbey. The touches of gold glittered in the sunlight, a fresh shine someone had to rub into them each day. In the main hall, the white eye of Papa Emeritus III followed you across the marble floor as you struggled to keep up with the nun. She moved quickly, taking two steps for each of yours as she powerwalked toward her office.

The room hadn’t changed in the passing weeks, the dark wood still warmed by the touch of firelight. But this time Ghouls did not occupy the room. Cardinal Copia turned toward the doorway as Imperator opened the door and ushered you through.

Fuck.

The Cardinal remained stone-faced, eyes widening only slightly at the sight of you. It was enough of a gesture to tell you he didn’t know what this was about either. You weren’t exactly sure what would happen if Imperator had found out about the two of you. If it was even a problem.

You settled into the chair next to him, stomach turning as the nun took a seat at her desk with a groan.

“Seems I’ve found you both just in time,” she began cryptically. You dug your nails into the arm of the chair as she stared at you, an unmistakable look of disappointment in her eyes. “I should have known Mary wouldn’t take this seriously.”

“Sister,” Copia said softly. “Might I ask what this meeting is about?”

She sucked her teeth and narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, if you’d give me a moment, I could explain. Or do you have somewhere more important to be, Cardinal?”

“No, Sister. Mi dispiace,” he replied solemnly. His jaw tensed, muscles flexing as he grinded his teeth to keep quiet.

She leaned back in her chair, a sick satisfaction on her face. Folding her hands on the desk, the nun eyed you both before she spoke again. “Cardinal, you will teach the new Sister the Rituals.”

Copia’s jaw dropped in confusion. “Mary is her mentor.”

“Mary can’t handle the responsibility,” she snapped. “If they want to dick around in the archives, they can do so alone. I expect results from you, Cardinal. Quickly.”

He looked back and forth between the two of you. “Sister, it is dangerous—”

“Cardinal, if I wanted to hear excuses, I would’ve asked your opinion. It’s not up for debate, for either of you. You will instruct the girl and Sister, you will do as he says.”

He huffed out a defeated sigh. “Yes, Sister Imperator.”

“Good. That’s all,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

You blinked, watching as Sister Imperator snapped a pen from her desk and started writing, immediately forgetting either of you were there.

The Cardinal stood and offered you a hand, his eyes trained on the ground. You let him help you to your feet, his fingers soft and warm in the absence of his gloves. He gave your hand a soft squeeze before dropping it to follow you out of Imperator’s office.

“Well, Mary’s going to be pissed,” you said quietly once you’d made it far enough away from the nun’s office.

“I suspect Mary will have their own part to play in this soon. As will you,” Copia replied tersely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, Sorella.” He shook his head and turned his gaze on you. “It is nice to see you again, dolcezza.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, skin going pink with his words. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

He cracked a smile. “Apparently, you’ve been in the basement playing with Mary.”

“That is such bullshit, you know? We’ve been studying this whole time. Mary was doing exactly what she asked.”

“I think you’ll find Sister Imperator only cares for her version of the truth.”

“You really do let her talk to you like that, don’t you?”

“You haven’t been here long, Sorella, but I can assure you it is not worth arguing with her.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He smirked. “Do you care about my feelings, dolce?”

“Maybe.”

He searched the hallway before bringing a hand to your face, gently swiping a thumb over your cheek. “It is sweet of you to worry, but I can assure you nothing Imperator says or does can hurt me.”

You nodded once and leaned into the Cardinal’s touch. “I still don’t have to like it.”

“I—”

Copia jerked his hand away as the sound of footsteps rounded the corner. Two Ghouls breezed past, neither paying much attention to you or the Cardinal. He shifted away from you, shaking his head at your raised eyebrow. The Ghouls pushed through a door at the end of the hall, but Copia kept his distance.

“Meet me in an hour at my quarters?” he asked softly.

“You don’t waste any time, huh?”

He smiled and shook his head. “I have rituals to teach you, Sorella.”

“I’m so sorry. I thought—”

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he leaned in close. “Wear something comfortable.”

#my fics #my writing #cardinal copia x female reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #copia x reader #terzo x reader #the band ghost fanfiction

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itsclydebitches · 1 year

Note

So do you think the writing team was villanizing the critics through the curious cat seeing how they were the ones who basically went all meta in pointing out plot holes and other talking points critics have been bringing up for years only for him to turn out to be a villain in the end and he needed to be destroyed? Cuz I feel like they were doing that. At this point rooster teeth's writing is starting to feel a bit spiteful which is funny considering how much they hate Adam who embodied spite.

Personally, I don't think the comparison extends that far. Meaning, I don't believe this is a case of, "The Curious Cat represents critics and now look, those evil critics die!" because that's just too conspiratorial, there's too little connection between the Cat/the fandom, the Cat was clearly always meant to be the Volume's baddie no matter what throwaway lines they were given, the writing team has a HELL of a lot more to worry about than what a small pocket of people are saying online, etc.

Case in point: the Cat's observations aren't actually what fans have been criticizing for years, at least not in my experience. I go into this in more depth in my recap (which istg I'm writing! lol) but almost no one cares about the ~implications~ of Ozpin and Oscar sharing a body, Atlas floating is a bottom rung concern when it comes to how the Relics are used, and Ciel is likewise inconsequential compared to other characters who have been forgotten by the narrative (Sun, Ilia, Neptune, Maria, Tai, Glynda, etc.). The only thing the Cat says that feels like it's accurately representing criticism of RWBY is the observation that it's impossible to keep track of so many characters.

So yeah, I do think it's a general dig at the less optimistic pockets of the fandom. The Cat's language in that scene -- "Characters" people returning in a "Notable way" -- conveys an awareness of RWBY as a fictional story that they don't otherwise demonstrate. From an in-world perspective, the Cat is talking about real people whose world they want access to... yet for this one, strange exchange they function more as the creator's mouthpiece, poking fun at those who have criticized a fictional, WIP webseries. Of course, it's only really fun if you're a) of the opinion that RWBY is pretty much perfect or b) are still enjoying it enough to laugh off a self-aware acknowledgement of its many problems. A lot of fans aren't in either category, hence it comes across as a little spiteful at worst, simply ignorant at best.

Despite what anti-rwde folks would have you believe, that tiny corner of the fandom is not bombarding the creators with harassment and, as said, professional writers have a lot more to worry about than browsing through a handful of tumblr blogs and one subreddit. I truly doubt they're on the up-and-up about complaints. So I think the Cat's observations demonstrate that they're aware that criticism generally exists (as any creator would be), but they don't know enough to accurately write about what fans are criticizing. They've picked random things that they believe people might feasibly be up in arms about -- "Omg you made a man live with a child in his body! Having a floating city when 95% of the monsters in this show can't can't fly is so stupid! How dare you not bring back this one-line character from six Volumes ago!!" -- with, as my writing there demonstrates, perhaps a dash of deliberately choosing kinda absurd "criticisms" because the whole point of this moment is for the audience to laugh at the Cat's overly-enthusiastic concern. So do I think that moment is meant to be a fictionalized and generalized rolling-their-eyes-at-critics moment? Yeah. Do I think that extends to the Cat's narrative purpose as a whole and we should read them as the metaphorical critics reaching their deserved end? No. There's pretty much no basis for that.

It is still frustrating though, especially given Volume 9 as a whole. If you are unhappy with RWBY after a two year hiatus and are questioning this filler season, having one of the new characters imply how silly it is to be worried about dropped concepts and too many characters isn't going to be received very well, regardless of whether it's just intended to be a joke.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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lake-archive · 6 months

Text

Track 4

Content warning! This chapter contains a moment of misgendering! Reader discretion is adviced!

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Series: Secret Archive

Characters: Ann Wolff (OC), Saburo Yamada, Gentaro Yumeno

AO3 Link

Track 3 - Track List - Track 5

The search on its own took its good while and yet it was not that surprising. Or it should not have been. Luckily the reading had just been a mere disguise and honestly an opportunity by luck. But Gentaro had to see this one through… Not like he wouldn’t to be honest. But the priority had been something else entirely. An archive sponsored by the Chuohku, perhaps they hold valuable information there… Or so were his thoughts, no one really knew. Not even his own source. But it is best to check it than to let the lead get cold, even if it would result in nothing. That and maybe it was also a result of sick curiosity. But until then, why not have some fun? Or rather inquire some information about the newbie.

A ‘normal student’ wandering around campus and trying to hide themself? That in itself is a little odd, and Gentaro should have a pretty good idea. He had noticed them for some time yet had waited for an opportune moment. After all, may as well lure them into safety so they have no reason to run off. And they didn’t, no matter what. They just kept on following and that was enough to raise suspicion. Could this one be really trusted? It was hard to say And yet, their words did not seem to utter lies yet not the full truth either. There had to be a motive, that was the only thing he knew. But then again, who was he to talk and judge? He was the walking embodiment of a lie right now. There was more to them, that was all he could conduct right now. Them being here was no coincidence by any means, even if someone would tell him otherwise. It was almost like a set up, was it not? He couldn’t help but wonder…

“Say, Ann–San, why have thou decided to pick this specific field of study?” It sounded like a throwaway question and perhaps it was for anyone else’s ears. It would be utter silence otherwise and it could nearly become unbearable, to say the least. Plus he may as well take the chance while he still can. He got their attention at the very least, them turning to him for a moment while looking through the shelves it seemed.

“Why?” They first repeated, then seeming to think, as if trying to choose their words or something. Yet they came up with a response soon enough. “Well, I happen to love literature.”

“Oh? Is that all?”

“Not exactly… It helps me improve as well! There’s so much stuff I did not know of yet!” They added, sounding oddly motivated from one moment to the next. “So many genres to write! And by that I mean the different ways to tell a story! Uh, there’s so much to try but only so many hours to wa—”

Yet they had paused all of a sudden, not to mention being interrupted by the young school boy right in the middle of that heartfelt speech. A shame, they sounded overly passionate, Gentaro would not have complained to hear everything after all. “Yes yes, nice but can you focus and not have that smalltalk now?” He even added, sounding somewhat annoyed. “We’ve got something to do here! Safe that for later!”

“Huh? Agai– Sorry!” Ann said, slightly bowing even. “I just… Get carried away with writing and stuff… Heh…”

“J… Just watch it next time!”

“Y… Yes, will–”

“Please, keep it down. We art not in public but in a library.” Gentaro interrupted shortly after. “It would be problematic if—”

“What’s with the commotion over there?” But it had been too late by then as a there had suddenly been a voice calling out to them, a fourth. The other two froze from one moment to the next, Ann especially seemed to have been startled. They even uttered a quick ‘Shit!’ out of their own mouth, as if knowing who it was. Then again, perhaps they did know better than anyone what this meant. Needless to say, they would not be alone soon enough, an old man coming forth. At first it might seem that he would just scold the trio for being a little too loud. However, things would take a different turn when noticing who was standing there, let alone where perhaps? His face had gone pale out of nowhere.

“Wha— Yumeno–Sensei and Miss Wolff!? And… A random kid?”

“Random kid!?” Saburo only let out for a moment, as if insulted.

“Whatever… Anyway, Yumeno–Sensei, has this student been showing you around? She should know better than that.” The old man continued, dismissing Saburo fairly quickly. However, that old man was obviously only addressing one of them, no one else. “I would like you to leave.”

“Leave? Why’s that? Got something to hide?” Saburo asked, his voice almost sharp for a second. It seems that both had caught on fairly quickly, maybe there was something hidden around here and they were close.

The old man, assumingly a professor, gulped for a short moment, growing pale for a short second before shaking his head, somewhat. “N… No. This is just… Staff only!”

“Staff only? Then where’s the sign?” Finally, after a short moment even Ann had decided to speak up though their tone had shifted all of a sudden, almost… At the brink of snapping?

“Miss Wolff, for how many years have you been studying here!? You should know by now and yet–”

“Who’s this ‘Miss’ you’re speaking of?”

“Hm? Oh don’t play stupid now! You know exactly that I’m speaking to you here, Mi—”

“I told you a few times already, didn’t I? I’m not a woman!” Ah, so that’s where this was headed… And they did not exactly look pleased either, as if someone had been doing a more than great job enraging them, to say the least.

“Miss Wolff, this isn’t–”

“No Miss, would ya mind?”

“This is not the topic Miss–”

“I said I ain’t a woman!”

What happened next was something none of the two could have predicted and was most likely a move which came from the heat of the moment. Ann looked beyond angry, unable to hold themself back it seemed. Even if it was beyond reasoning at this moment they did not seem to care, judging from their face. After all, they had suddenly pulled out… A hypnosis mic? Yeah, this isn’t just ‘some student’ alright? “I’ve had it! Stay back, I’ll get him outta our hair right now!”

“Something small? No one cares?

Too bad, I do. Go figure!

‘Miss this, Misses that’

Please shut the fuck up!

I tried to say this politely and not freak out.

But it’s fucking pissing me off! Goddamn!

And not just that but now also in the way!

No shame? We’re busy here old man!

So stop standing in the way!

Got to something to hide?

Hey say what are we gonna find?

Hold on a sec, shouldn’t you be busy somewhere else?

Go and run! Oh and by the way, get a dose of respect.

I’m beat, all tired! So have it in your face one last time:

I ain’t a goddamn woman!

And now say goodbye!”

It was a reaction which had been out of impulse, perhaps having built up over time. A surprising one and yet it seemed to knock out the old man, enough to have him suddenly on the floor and not making a sound… Well, until he did and just snored away, at least he was still alive.

The two males looked at Ann who had been panting while looking down for a short moment. “D… Did they just—” Saburo managed to let it slip from his lips, being nothing but shocked.

Though Gentaro calmed his gaze down soon enough, a slight grin on his face. “I see. There’s something more, isn’t there?”

“Something more? What’re you heading at?”

“Ah, nothing that thou shall worry about.”

“Ugh… You’ll just leave me in the dark! Well, not like I got time for that honestly…”

By then Ann had seemingly come to their senses, their eyes widening for a moment as they eyed the floor in shock, the sleeping body in front of them. “Eh? D… Did I just…”

“Yes, you did. Can you not cause us any more problems?” Saburo responded quickly, for sure annoyed by now. “Ugh, it would be a pain if this had gotten any worse.”

“Ah– S… Sorry! I just…” They were visibly embarrassed, to the point of being so close to bowing yet again. “W… Well, when someone says… Erm…”

“Y’know… I heard of people getting pissed at being referred to a certain way but did you have to do that!?”

“I… N… No…”

“Watch it, will you?”

“But I—”

“While I agree that thou should work on thy temper let's not get too hasty.” Gentaro decided to suggest. Honestly, he would lie if he said that he knew how hurtful this was. He didn’t and he was not going to pretend that this was the case. But it must strike a nerve, that much was more than certain. “Perhaps try to find a way that thou do not resort to such methods. Although it did work in our favor, did it not?”

“If you put it that way…”

“Then let us bring this old man somewhere safe and continue our search. We only have so much time.”

Who knows who will show up if they don’t hurry after all…

Track 3 - Track List - Track 5

#Nimue's Lake #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #hypnosis mic #hypmic #saburo yamada #yamada saburo #hypmic saburo #gentaro yumeno #yumeno gentaro #hypmic gentaro #hypmic oc #cw misgendering #tw misgendering

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muuum-am-i-adohhhpted · 2 years

Text

Stormy Weather (Empires SMP)

summary: hermes is stressing out about the future where he'll eventually have to choose between his papa or his dad's empire to rule. this causes him to secretly weigh the pros and cons of each empire and try to sit in on meetings. at his week in sanctuary, hermes realizes he might be able to control the weather which is another thing to worry about. all of this stress cumulates to one evening when a powerful storm hits sanctuary.

ao3 link

word count: 3659

warnings: light angst, mention of bungee jumping, worries about the death of a friend, reference to running from a threat, unconsciousness

~~~

"Since you’re the son of two empires, which one do you think you’ll rule when you’re older?" It was a throwaway question from one of Hermes’ classmates but it was one that stuck with him long after he had presented his "All About Me!" presentation.

He went back home to Stratos with new eyes. The floating islands were dangerous for regular people (Hermes’ winged shoes made it easy for him to get up there but they were unique since they were a gift from his dad). The buildings were delicate—filled with rare and breakable vases and gold flaked art pieces. His dad wasn't any kind of art person, but he was very intent on keeping "the vibe" of Stratos. And that meant Greek and kinda-Greek decor all around the floating islands and in the village below.

And yet…the open air. Relentlessly, it called to him, tugging at his soul to lift off right now or else. The wind running through his purple chiton, through his fluffy brown hair. Being in the air was nothing like being chained to the earth. He could go wherever he pleased, not bound by mortal laws. He could fly with the birds, give himself a beard of clouds and pretend to be his dad. ("I am tall. I am handsome. Lore, lore, LORE.")

In contrast, Sanctuary was friendly and homey. With colourful buildings of terracotta and brick, Hermes played tag with the other kids when school was out and helped care for the animals in the barn. He didn't have to care about breaking things—he could just let loose and race his friends up bamboo stalks. His papa would take him fishing and sneak him cookies and, in certain moments, he could forget the longing to take flight in his dad's winged shoes.

It didn’t take long, though, for the need to fly took him over and he eyed his winged shoes on the dresser. But flying in Sanctuary was a hard task in general. The bamboo made for hard obstacles. In the night, they were nearly invisible. Not to mention the thick jungle. On top of that, his papa always seemed hesitant to let him fly. On the rare occasions Hermes was allowed to, his papa was always right there, glancing around like, at any moment, something might jump out from the jungle trees and swallow them whole.

"Anything on your mind there, son?" Hermes' dad asked at the other end of the long dining table up in Stratos. His dad took a couple of grapes from a nearby bowl and popped one in his mouth. He looked at Hermes curiously.

Hermes had to hand it to his dad, he could really pick up on what a person was thinking or feeling based on their face. Perhaps it had to do with all the looking in the mirror. Either way, Hermes felt his face flush and he shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking about…stuff." He tried to come up with a sufficient lie but couldn't think of one.

Hermes' dad awkwardly coughed and ate another grape to busy himself. "Your papa and I were talking the other day. He told me he took you fishing. I was thinking…while there are no good fishing lakes near Stratos, what if I took you bungee jumping?"

Hermes sat up a little straighter. "Really? Papa wouldn't mind?" Hermes' dad often called his papa a "safety rabbit". Papa wasn't just a little strict about flying, he often wouldn't let Hermes near average-sized cliff sides or allow him to partake in water skiing without intense, and often embarrassing, amounts of supervision. On their fishing trip, Hermes was forced to wear a life jacket and floaties around his arms. Not to mention the dozens of whistles attached to his person.

Apparently, the only way papa would allow Hermes to spend time in Stratos was if Hermes was given some kind of flight tool in case he managed to fall off one of the floating islands. And that was how Hermes' winged shoes came to be.

Hermes' dad gave Hermes a conspiratorial look and winked. "He'll never have to know. So…what do you say? It'll have to be tomorrow sometime, though. I have a meeting with my advisors tonight."

"What will you be talking about?" Hermes asked slowly. "Could I join you?" If he was to choose which empire to eventually rule, he would have to learn the inner workings of each one if he was to make an informed decision. And it would all have to be done in secret. Hermes would feel bad if they knew since this choice might be seen as him choosing a favourite parent.

His dad raised his eyebrows slightly. "Really? You've never really been interested in government before."

It was true. And Hermes still wasn't all that interested. But a future emperor had to make some sacrifices. Besides, maybe when he was older he could get someone to do that job for him. Plenty of people would love to be a stand-in ruler. "So, can I come?" He didn’t know how to explain his change of heart to his dad.

His dad shrugged. "Of course. We aren’t talking about much—it's mostly going to be about the new building I want to build." At this, Hermes’ dad’s eyes lit up. "We've got the new island up and running so now it's just a matter of what to put there. What do you think we should build?"

Hermes gnawed thoughtfully on his lip. The new island wasn't the largest one they had in Stratos but it was a nice shape. It wasn't too perfectly round or had weird long parts that would be impossible to build on. He thought for a second longer and was highly aware of his dad watching him with interest.

"I—I don't know," Hermes finally said with a sigh, slouching in his chair. He cast his eyes downwards and could feel a stinging behind his eyes. Don't cry, he told himself and he reached over for a slice of bread and some jam to hide his excessive blinking.

How could he ever become a ruler if he couldn't even decide what he'd like to be built on an island? Rulers had to make hard decisions almost daily. They had to take into consideration every angle of every issue and had to make what they thought was the best decision even if others didn't believe so.

"It's okay, kid," Hermes' dad said. "That's why we're having this meeting." He stood up from the table and gestured for Hermes to do the same. "C'mon, let's head out."

Hermes was hoping the meeting would be somewhat interesting. And it very well might have if he had understood anything they were talking about. The meeting quickly spiralled into arguing between Hermes' dad, his multiple advisors, and a couple of citizens from the village below.

Their sharp voices overlapped and moved from one argument to the next way too fast for Hermes to keep up with. How Stratos managed to get anything done was beyond him.

Eventually, as they finally decided on what to build (was it a church dedicated to his dad or a hotel?), everyone's voices died down and Hermes unknowingly fell asleep in his chair.

~~~

Hermes was grateful for the week to be over as his dad brought him to Sanctuary. After sitting in another boring meeting, he was looking forward to a change in pace. He could already smell the masas de cerdo frita his papa always made when he came back from Stratos.

"Hermes!" His papa exclaimed, running towards him, picking him up, and spinning him around. "Welcome back!"

"Papa!" Hermes laughed before his papa placed him down.

"How was your week at Stratos?" He asked, glancing over at Hermes' dad.

"Good, good," Hermes said, glancing back at his dad with a small grin. While the meetings had been a bust, the bungee jumping hadn't. They had dropped off of any possible high up building: the Stratos Sphere, the fountain, the new island where a Church of Joel was currently being built.

His dad gave a discreet wink in Hermes' direction.

Laughing, his papa patted his shoulder. "Alright then, start unpacking. I'll be there to help you in a bit."

As Hermes' dad and papa walked off for their weekly parenting meeting, Hermes rushed off to his bedroom in his papa's house. He greeted Eddie who was hovering in the kitchen, his rabbit ears pulled back with a bandana so no hair would get in the food.

Hermes was nearly unpacked when his papa poked his head through the door. "Need any help?" He asked.

"Sure!" Hermes exclaimed. "How have you and Eddie been?"

"Doing good, we're all doing well," his papa responded but Hermes could hear the familiar strain in his voice. Hermes wished he knew what was constantly causing his papa stress but, no matter how much Hermes prodded, his papa would always reply that it didn't concern him. Even Eddie sadly shook his head when Hermes asked about it one day.

All Hermes could do was try his best to keep his papa's spirits up whenever he was in Sanctuary.

"Can we go fishing again sometime this week?" Hermes asked as he set his winged shoes on the dresser. He had really enjoyed the last time they had done it. Just he and his papa on a little boat. The waters had been peaceful and Hermes had never seen his papa look so carefree than when he had been focussed on catching fish and treasure from the bottom of the ocean.

Hermes' papa grinned and messed up a bit of Hermes' hair. "Of course."

"It'll have to be in the next few days," Hermes said, the words almost coming out of his mouth without his permission. "A storm's coming." Hermes clamped his mouth shut in confusion.

His papa stared at him, equally as confused. "How…how do you know?" He asked, eyes wide. Hermes could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

"I—I don't know," Hermes murmured. "It's kinda like a feeling. It's going to be bad, too. It's going to last for three or four days."

"It must be some of your dad's magic within you," his papa said in awe. "You'll have to tell your dad next week. Maybe you can learn to control the weather."

"Control the weather?" Hermes repeated. "You think I can do that?"

"It's entirely possible. I guess we won't know unless you try." Hermes' papa smiled and then clapped his hands. "Alright, well, you hungry or what? We'll finish packing after supper. I'm starving."

As Hermes and his papa made their way down into the kitchen, the table in the corner was set for three. Eddie entered into the kitchen from the side door, his brows furrowed. "Sausage," he said in a slow voice, giving a pointed look towards Hermes, "Alejandra just came by. She told me that they're having an emergency meeting tonight."

Hermes' papa and Eddie seemed to have a conversation just with their eyes. Hermes glanced between the both of them, trying to decipher what was going on. Eventually, Hermes' papa nodded, his shoulders tense at his sides. "Okay."

There was a long period of silence which Hermes broke by asking, "can I join you?"

The two adults looked at one another again. Hermes already knew what his papa would say before he said it. "I'm sorry, Hermes. Your dad did tell me you've grown an interest in government and sitting in on meetings, but this one," he shook his head, "it's…it's not for kids." He shared another look with Eddie.

Hermes did his best to smile. "It's okay. I understand." Throughout the meal, Hermes used all his willpower to keep his tone upbeat until Sausage and Eddie left for the emergency meeting, leaving a farmer, Jorge, to babysit Hermes.

Jorge stayed on the bottom floor which Hermes was grateful for. The villager wasn't within earshot to hear Hermes curl up in his bed and begin to cry, his curtains drawn.

A future emperor and now he had the burden of being able to control the weather? What would happen if he couldn't learn to control the weather? What if he accidentally started a drought? His empire would starve to death without any food. And what about flooding? And snow storms? Hurricanes? He could wipe out entire empires with or without trying. Hermes had to get his powers under control as soon as humanly possible.

On top of all of that, what if he couldn't mediate between arguments outside and within his own empire? He could start wars and civil wars and it would be entirely Hermes' fault. There would be no one else to blame except the person making all the decisions—him.

It was all too much in such a short period of time. Not to mention he had to choose his dad's or papa's empire before ruling anything in the first place. How could he ever learn all he needed to know in time if his papa wouldn't even allow Hermes in on whatever secret he had? He needed to know. He could handle it, he was sure.

CRACK. THUD.

Hermes was up out of his bed and he pulled back the curtains. The sky was a dark grey, menacing clouds hiding the sun and sky. Bamboo stalks and jungle tree branches alike were blowing aggressively in the wind and, in the middle of town square, a large jungle tree lay in the path. Thankfully, it looked like no one was hurt except a couple of barrels and a cart of wheat.

Still, Hermes burst into more tears. This is my fault. He had to stop this storm before anyone got hurt. What if the tree had landed on a house? What about the meeting room where his papa and Eddie were? Hermes' heart pounded as he flung open his window and crawled out of the house, careful to stay away from the windows where Jorge could see.

The wind snapped at Hermes' clothes and hair, loose debris flying around in circles before being thrown to the side. And that was when the downpour began. Fat droplets of rain began falling from the sky, instantly turning everything slippery. Dusk was beginning to settle into Sanctuary, the already hazy visibility turning even worse.

Hermes ran to his papa's favourite fountain. He didn't know much about his papa's past but he did know that the fountain reminded his papa of the hometown where he grew up. He climbed to the top of it, a small square platform that just managed to have the space for his two feet, and raised his hands above him. Hermes wasn't exactly sure how to stop storms, all he knew was that it had to go away.

"Leave!" Hermes shouted, his voice instantly taken by the wind. "Settle down!" He bellowed with even more intensity. The wind grew even more powerful, the raindrops now pricking his skin. "Stop! Please!" He begged, his voice cracking, soaked to the bone but he could feel new tears forming in his eyes in desperation. Hermes' arms dropped to his sides, his hands turning into fists. I can't control it. His entire body drooped, exhaustion finally taking over as the fight left his body.

An especially forceful gust of wind nearly knocked Hermes off his feet and he quickly tried to right himself by stepping his left foot backwards but there was nothing there but air. He tipped backwards and it felt like he was falling in slow motion.

"Hermes!" The wind carried his papa's voice and it was the last thing Hermes heard before the world went dark.

~~~

"I—I think he was trying to stop the storm," a voice wept, sounding like it came from Hermes' left.

"Shhh, shhh," another male voice said, gently. "If anything, you should blame that horrendous babysitter you hired. He should have been keeping a better eye on Hermes. Here, drink this."

There was the sound of slurping and then the clink of some kind of ceramics or glass. "But I was the one who told him he could probably control storms. If I hadn't said anything, maybe he wouldn't be here."

~~~

"I'm afraid the tyrant king has killed Araceli and consumed her power. She used to have the gift of weather and I met with her a couple of years after I fled my hometown with Bubbles." The voice that was speaking was quiet—just above a whisper. "She didn't live very far from our village and I think the king might have found her and used her powers to send storms our way."

"I can ask around about this woman, if you'd like. I know plenty of smaller weather deities." The second voice went silent before saying, "if you think it would be best to leave…"

"No, I can't do that again. I can't leave my family again. I just found Eddie. We have Hermes to care for. If the king manages to find Hermes—"

"What about you?" The other voice raised just slightly. "What do you think your king could do if he could converse with animals? What if he respawns the Ender Dragon and convinces her to destroy our world? It would be like the Rapture all over again."

"The Rapture? But that's just an old folktale."

There was some awkward laughter. "Of course, I'm just saying it could be like the Rapture again. End of our empires and terrible earthquakes and all."

~~~

"You'll have no choice but to leave if your king gets too close to you, you know. I can take Hermes in. The king wouldn't try to kill a god, would he?" The voice was slightly joking, as if trying to lighten the mood.

There was a too long pause. "I don't know anymore."

~~~

Hermes peeled his eyes open and he instantly closed them again, the light too bright. "Ugh," he groaned, trying to bring his arm up to block the light still breaching his eyelids but his arms felt as heavy as lead.

"Hermes!" His papa and dad exclaimed, jumping up from their spot in the corner of the room. They were instantly at his side, worry etched on both their faces. They were all in the Sanctuary infirmary. He could hear no wind or rain—just how long had he been out for?

"Are you feeling okay?"

"The doctor said you thankfully didn't break any bones but you've got a pretty bad bruise on the side of your right arm."

"Don't you dare try that again! You should've known the fountain would've been slippery in the rain!"

"I can help you with your powers if you'd like. It's difficult but I know you can do it. Well, after you rest and all."

Hermes burst into tears, trying to hide his face under the blankets in shame. "I—I'm so sorry," he blubbered as his papa gently pulled down the covers. "I didn't mean to bring the storm, I was just feeling frustrated about everything."

Hermes' dad was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with Hermes' hair and scratching at his scalp like he would a cat. "You didn't conjure up the storm, Hermes." His dad smiled down at him. "To put it bluntly, you'd need to train a lot more in order to create a storm of that size. Don't worry, it's not your fault."

Hermes took in his dad's words and breathed a big sigh of relief. "Really?" It's not my fault. It's not my fault.

His dad nodded.

"What were you feeling frustrated about?" His papa then asked.

"I'm going to have to choose between the two of you when I grow up!" Hermes finally exclaimed.

The sentence hung in the air. Both Hermes' dad and papa glanced at each other, their eyebrows drawing down. Hermes' dad was the first one to break away from the gaze. "What on earth are you talking about? You go to each of our empires every week. You hardly have a choice in having us as your parents."

Hermes' papa glared over at Hermes' dad. "Shhh, Joel." He then looked down at Hermes. "Please explain what you mean. Why will you have to choose one of us?"

"When I'm older," Hermes said. "You're both my parents and you both rule empires. I'm going to have to choose which one to rule eventually and I don't want to choose between the two of you. I don't think I even want to be an emperor."

"Oh, Hermes," his papa said with a little chuckle. He kissed Hermes' forehead. "You don't have to rule anything. We aren't going to force you to take that burden if you don't want to." Hermes had fuzzy recollections of his dad and papa speaking about…something while he was going in and out of consciousness from the fall from the fountain, but he waved it off for now. He'd ponder on that later when his memory was sharper. "Your dad and I wouldn't make you choose between us and, even if you did, we wouldn’t blame you for choosing the other. That would make us awful parents."

Hermes felt like a massive boulder had just been lifted off his chest. He took a big breath and a large smile grew on his face. "I don't want to become a ruler of any empire."

"Great!" His dad exclaimed. "You'll have less grey hair than your papa."

"And hopefully less ego than your dad," his papa said with a playful glare.

Hermes settled into the cot he was laying on. His eyelids began to grow heavy and, after a second, his eyelids fluttered closed. Dreamland was calling and Hermes was more than happy to go. "I love you," he said through a long yawn.

"Love you."

"I love you too."

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empires smp fanfiction #hermes #hermes (empires smp)#empires smp hermes #mythicalsausage #smallishbeans

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corderis · 2 months

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( happy birthday to kairi: a little taste of home! | @otlaw )

he approaches the youth with a faint smile playing upon his lips, and gives a small nod when she looks to him. "kairi." he greets with a small bow, hand over his heart. "i overheard the other cursebreakers talking--- its your birthday today, is it?" with the mantle of cid weighing heavy over him, clive did his best to keep the hideaway feeling both valued and closely-knit. and what better way to do that than acknowledging birthdays and anniversaries? reaching into his pocket, he procures a strange fruit he'd never heard of prior; a paopu fruit. a peculiar star-shaped fruit that was meant to hold some sort of power when shared. offering it to her, he smiles. "here. if i heard right, they're something from back home on the island, no?"

she hadn't intended to tell anyone of her upcoming birthday, but it had come up during one of her talks with sora & riku. she had intended it as a throwaway piece of information, a highlight to the way the ache of homesickness had suddenly increased. she hadn't thought that either of them had taken note, but she had been terribly wrong. the entire hideaway had seemed prepared for the day, & she'd gotten more sincere & kind well wishes than she had ever received back in sanbreque. so many of them had been spoken with a secretive tone alongside gazes measuring her up as if for some plan that she wasn't in on. it had left her with chills, even when she was small. here, she had been pulled into hugs, taught of birthday traditions she had never even heard of, & had even received a few gifts! it had made training with the other cursebreakers a bit chaotic, but they had all been dismissed from training early, laughing so hard that kairi's stomach had hurt & her breath had been coming out in sharp wheezes for several minutes afterwards. it was shortly after that clive approached, & she took notice of him at the call of her name. ❛ cid! ❜ she responded with a bow of her own ( hands at her side, bent at the waist, some habits died far too hard for her to fight against ).

his acknowledgment of the day was a bit of a surprise. he was a personable leader, seemingly in tune with every member of the hideaway, but she still felt surprised at being acknowledged. as well as a childlike excitement that reminded her of the way her grandmother smiled at her as she told her happy birthday or an older memory, nearly forgotten, of her being lifted onto the shoulders of a man who's face she could no longer remember but who's laughter rang bright in her ears & left behind a mix of hope & melancholy in her heart.

❛ it is! ❜ she finally responded, shaking off the feelings that had crept up on her in the moment. kairi was trying to find the words to explain, politely, that she hadn't intended to cause such a fuss about the day ( as though a part of her was worried she would get scolded for causing celebration ) but she never got the chance. instead, she was presented with a gift that made stillness wash over her, her gaze lingering on it as if she wasn't sure that it was real

❛ a paopu fruit! ❜ immediately she was swarmed by memories of trips taken to the island with the secret intention of honing her magic under the tutelage of her grandmother. spending time in the villages with the other children who played with her & taught her their stories & welcomed her back for each visit. year after year after year they returned throughout her childhood. ❛ i haven't seen one of these since... ❜ since the last visit she'd taken there, when her grandmother declared her trained well enough to hide her secret in plain sight. she offered no conclusion to her explanation, simply took the fruit with delicate fingers.

already, she had in mind friends she wanted to share it with. though the thought of asking brought a bit of pink to her cheeks, she knew she may not get another opportunity. rare fruits were already scarce from the blight. even if she could make it to the island, there was no guarantee she'd find one. the realization erased any thought of hesitation from her mind. though it was a legend, a superstition, she hoped they would take to it just as she had. kairi bowed to clive again ( a little sharper, a bit more respectful than her first one ).

❛ thank you, cid. ❜ she held the fruit close, taking in the sweet, nostalgic scent. ❛ this is so much more than just a gift. i'll use it well. ❜ to intertwine the destinies of her & the closest friends she'd made in the hideaway. ❛ i promise. ❜

#otlaw #[ and it gave me the chance to worldbuild a little hehe ]#[ this was so sweeeeeeeeeeeet ]#[ V ] ── * FFXVI ( the strength of your will )#[ ❀ ] ── ` ASKS ( message in a bottle )#[ ❀ ] ── ` KAIRI ANSWERS ( the princess' response )

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seasurfacefullofclouds1 · 1 year

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Okay but by which song you were most impressed by in terms of vocals? (not including bigger than me). Were there moments when you were like “whoa” or you weren’t surprised at all?

Hi anon!

Very late with this answer. I hope this is okay! My outstanding vocal moments from Faith In The Future:

1. The Greatest: “Through that circle 'round my heart/ Where the best of me should start.” The way he vocalizes “circle,” and “best of me,” the syllables almost a rebellious spit. Of course the chorus is effortless and spectacular!

2. Written All Over Your Face: “Hey. Babe.” This whole first pre-chorus is vocal foreplay— sexy, feral, slinky Louis is HERE, and he’s gonna make people lose it on tour. “‘Cause the atmosphere’s so ccccxold.” Ugh. YOU KNOW??

This man made everyone’s thighs quiver and you all know what I mean…

3. Bigger Than Me: Louis established his tenor belting dominance in his lead single. Clean, rich, bell-like, not “thin” or “delicate” or any of those diminutive adjectives. His voice is a huge, clarion meteor. But also the bridge??? Amazing contrast.

4. Lucky Again: the whole first verse and pre-chorus. Louis’ voice is as sweet as jasmine, as smooth as rum. This man is feeding us amuses bouches on a summer day.

5. Face The Music: “One more night,” the way Louis sings “night” reminds me so much of his 1D solos, and it’s so so so nostalgic.

6. Chicago: a man who rhymes “did ya” with “okay,” the stoic first verse with such soft, throwaway tenderness, “Just wasn’t meant to be.” His accent feels very personal and wounded throughout the song and yes it offends me, personally.

7. All This Time: “When it get colds,”— Louis’ half-crying, half-smiling delivery throughout this song is beyond ethereal. Only Louis can do this with his voice: make you smile and cry and laugh and sob with one verse. He is a magician. Also that little moan at the end?

8. Out Of My System: like Louis said, you can hear the bit of roughness in the way he sings “system,” a gravelly fry at the outer edges. I still can’t believe he vocalized it at 11 PM or Midnight or whatever somewhere in a studio in Berlin. He’s a madman.

9. Headline: the way he sings, “kindness,” “So faaaaast to judge,” it’s like the spring wind brushing up against the hairs on your arm, ticklish and spooky, unexpected. When he whines, “Head—line,” omgggg? “But I cahn’t forget ya.” You know? You know?!?!? Sometimes words aren’t enough?

10. Saturdays: each time Louis sings, “Some things change,” he’s pleading for things not to change, even though we know they will, so every repetition cuts even deeper and hurts more. The last time he sings it, his voice is incredible sweet and resigned.

11. Silver Tongues: “on-lay we know.” The exuberance in the voice has the energy of fireworks.

12. She Is Beauty We Are World Class: “Square eyes in sunglasses”— the way he sings it is so funny. I don’t know why; it’s just so whacky. “Are we one or two/ are we me or are we you”— I want to trip out with Louis so bad. The underwater quality of the “surrounded by light” as the voice rises to the surface reminds me of this merch:

13. Common People: the way he sings the first verse is like he’s singing close to your ear, telling you about his life. I love this intimacy.

14. Angels Fly: the way his voice changed from the beginning to the end of this:

from stating an argument to softening, becoming more intimate, a gentle pat on the back. And the way he sings, “Look at the horizon/ does it make you feel small?” is reassuring, comforting. Feels like a hug.

15. Holding Onto Heartache: the bridge! The way he shouts out the lyrics as if he’s losing control sounds almost like an exorcism, and it is absolutely cathartic.

16. Change: I love the vocals top to bottom on this song, especially the very reverb-y quality of the production. It’s an amazing acoustic song as well. On the studio recording when Louis sings, “It’s such a shame,” he cracks his voice on the word “shame,” and it sounds like a cry/smile/sigh. The vocal magic of that moment! On Change, Louis also sings his own lovely harmonizations. The “ahhhhh” of the intro and outro are perfect.

17. Paradise: I just do not find this a compelling song (sorry).

18. That’s The Way Love Goes: the first couple of times Louis performed this song live, besides the raw nerves, we can hear the real and deep affection Louis has for his friend. Even if this is an imaginary scenario, the affection is so real.

19. Copy Of A Copt Of A Copy: that 9th interval leap to “Young man” is always so shocking (a slap to the the face), so abrasive and comforting at the same time. It’s spectacular live.

20. High In California: I love the way his voice sounds like summer in LA, chill, languorous, salty by the beach, the air thick and hot on the highway, thin and breezy on top. The “ayyyyyyyyy” arpeggiation is something Louis hasn’t done before; the deconstructed minor 7th chords are loose and lovely. “They always said it’s so bad for me/ everything I try makes me feel alive// Spend my whole life just thinking I had to change.” The queercoding in the lyrics is obvious and heartbreaking.

21. Saved By A Stranger: “Someone else’s fantasy/ Is nothing like reality, I know that// For a moment, stay with me/ And let me feel the freedom that you’re holding.” Everything about this song is devastating. Rhyming “fantasy” with “stay with me” and the internal rhyme with “[free]dom”: I think that says everything about how fandom’s fantasies have been deeply harmful.

22. Holiday: this sounds like a brash teen Louis who’s very much in awe of Alex Turner.

#Fitf song by song #Fitf vocals #louis vocals #louis tomlinson #30 december 2022

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ramblingdisaster73 · 1 year

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hi! i saw a few of ur posts and asks lately and i hope u don't mind me popping in to kind of rant a little. i haardd agree w what you've said re: ep03 and 4x04

403 really did hurt. and i get it. i get that it comes hand in hand with the angst, and i think. i hope (?) that they'll be ok in the end bc at this point, it's getting a little bit frustrating to me. i hated the line of carlos being like 'can't let go of a bad relationship' :/ ik its probably a really poor take coming from the writers but like. with the setup, framing, and tk looking at him after he said that line. what did they want us to think. i think there's a fine line between being petty and hurtful and being a jerk. and imo if i want to put more weight into that line (i probably won't, bc i believe its meant to be more like a throwaway line that we'll collectively ignore and won't resurface again), he's leaning towards the latter. i can't imagine the patience tk has rn

i did not like that, time and time again so far, tk is just being his non-confrontational self. and i get it, with the whole 'you lash out at you loved ones in the moment of extreme anxiety and loss of control, whilst knowing that he will be there for u through it all. through all ur messiness and ur shit, it's like a lifeline that he can hold on to.' hell, i did that too. and i love this sentiment, and i think ep1 - ep3 is them trying to show us this. except before we get their reconciliation in 4x04 (hopefully), these are what we have to work with.

i also read somewhere (i'm so sorry i'd forgotten who said it) that we might get more of carlos + iris reunion rather than a carlos/tk one bc it will carry more weight for carlos' character arc, and at this stage, i hate that i can see that happening, and i don't like it. i'm just asking for any sort of carlos/tk reunion to be cathartic af, after all of what we've they've been through so far. i don't think i'm asking for much atp 🥲🥲

(prev.) if this really happens, i hope it's in the context of like, iris reassuring carlos that she's not his legal responsibility anymore, that she's more than capable of taking care of herself, and that he needs to let go of the unfounded guilt that he's carrying towards this whole mess (ik this is controversial, but i would argue that iris carries equal responsibility as well and i blame carlos as much as i do iris, she could've reached out too, but i won't be getting into that), so that he can truly move on with tk. a clean slate, if u will. i won't be able to accept anything else.

i just. my god. i love tk. i want to give him a little hug. it's genuinely really painful to watch him in these 3 eps. i have no hope that it will ever be addressed. can u tell i just really need more tk/carlos scenes atp bc i do i miss them being a team and i don't like it when there's tension that we can never get closure too. i don't want to expect anything for 404 except that it'll probably be disappointing, just so i won't be let down again.

also as like a little sidenote, i saw the 100 in your bio and omg i was there (!!!!!) doesn't this (e.g. tim's post, ro and rafa's interviews) all feel like jrat + the 100 cast mess all over again. bc i see it. i'm not sure if you're aware of it back then, but it was like a whole mess between the cast and jrat and they had to keep defending his writing and lmaoooooooo history repeating itself over at ls here i see i see

i'm so sorry its so long. it got away from me. thank u for reading through all that tho if u did 😭 have a nice day/night!

This storyline has definitely ruffled feathers, a lot of them for a lot of people. The way they are only revealing bits at a time through this 4 episode arc is slowly driving us all insane – especially those of us that were not blessed with any sort of patience (that’s me, I have none) and want to know everything right now.

Just like 3x13 had some painful to watch scenes, so did 4x03 – but watching Ronen & Rafa this season has been a real gift – we care so much about these characters in large part because we know how much Ronen & Rafa love their characters, how much they respect the relationship that they are portraying, combined with their natural chemistry, makes Carlos & TK such a compelling people – as both individuals & as a couple.

-The first couple of seasons, we got glimpses of Carlos’ flaws, but they weren’t as obvious or as loud as TK’s, so many people just over looked them, some to the point where they don’t believe that he can do any wrong or that pretty people should always be forgiven because they are pretty.

*For this particular storyline – They had to pretty much exaggerate his negative traits: Control freak, self-blame, avoidance to the point of lies by omission, and his compartmentalization in order to have him learn more about himself (I think) If they had just kept him as he was in 3x13 with the petty chicken dinner, then we wouldn’t really be able to see him learn anything – it would just have been a continuation of his avoidance, without long term consequences.

– his traits/flaws had to be so in our faces, so that when he loses all of that – all control, all ability to compartmentalize, can’t lie to even himself anymore – we are feeling it with him, feeling him learn that this isn’t a healthy way for him to live.

*I have no clue what their intention for the bad relationship line was – but I do think it missed whatever the goal was since none of us can decide on the meaning. I am currently going with it is part of how they are exaggerating his traits (his pettiness in this case) to show how much out of the ordinary this whole situation is for him. I do think he is filled with so much guilt over Iris, that it almost froze him where she was concerned, especially since TK came into his life – and he realized that he could have something real. -thinking about it this way does make it more tolerable, at least it does for me.

*There is a fine line between petty and jerk, Carlos has been walking it like a tight rope since the minute that venue called, probably since the morning after he realized that he hadn’t dreamed up TK proposing. I think that the show is finally letting us see his other sides, we are seeing him start to unravel a little – he doesn’t know how to deal with it – THERAPY WOULD BE MY SUGGESTION, SIR! – so much damn therapy.

I am loving TK (& Ronen) this season – that man can say a lot with his eyes – especially when the script doesn’t give him words. I do think that part of his lack of an emotional response, isn’t that he doesn’t have feelings about what is going on (Carlos being married), but he sees how fucked up Carlos is over the whole thing – he knows that if he freaks out too, then everything will get worse – this time, even though shit is hard, the last thing he wants to do is run away or blow things up – and honestly, I love it. And I have written quite a few fics so far that have really helped me deal with the emotions that this storyline brought up.

*I do not think that there will be a whole lot of bottled up TK in 4x04 – I think he will be a fiery tornado with one goal in mind – as Ronen has said, we are going to see a different side to TK this season. I think part of that might be the way he processes his emotions/thoughts (plus he has a whole fandom to be mad on his behalf) – I don’t think TK will ever just roll over and let anyone (Carlos included) walk all over him - he has just learned to pick his battles, support his fiancé over himself when needed.

*I can’t wait for feral TK

I did say something along the lines of Carlos more important reunion would be with Iris over TK – to be honest though, I doubt we see a real reunion between Iris & Carlos at this point – BUT, my reasons for thinking that were what you said – that she might be the one that gets through to him that people are stronger and more capable than he gives them credit for – Both her and TK – as well as Carlos.

*We will get some type of emotional reunion between TK & Carlos on screen – I think that Tim loves to pull things apart – but he does it because he loves putting them back together. Someone pointed out that each episode has shown us another aspect of the Tarlos relationship – The understanding from TK in 4x01, the unit that they are in 4x02, what friction and stress can cause in 4x03. I think 4x04 will be another aspect to see.

-I am leaning that the bulk of the ep will be them separated – Carlos being held captive, torture & TK will be realizing he is missing/searching for him. I am also thinking that the amount of time on screen that they will be together will be similar to Push 3x04 – An emotional reunion (like at the hospital when TK woke up), then a domestic like scene (like the initial Tarloft scene), ending with some type of group scene (like the reopening of the 126) – obviously, I could be wrong – but that is how I am leaning as of now.

TARLOS IS ENDGAME & ALL ROADS LEAD TO THE WEDDING – is my mantra and I repeat it as necessary in times of need.

I also love TK, he is also probably the one I can relate to the most, so that helps (or not, depending on how you look at it). That mean needs all the hugs, he takes everything on himself (kinda like his fiancé), and wants everyone to be happy. I can’t get over how blessed we are with the cast that plays these amazing characters – they don’t feel like one dimensional characters – they feel real – this is why we care so much.

I think the difference between Tim & J Roth is that Tim is supporting his work & his cast/characters while J Roth killed off characters if his cast member needed time off for a medical/mental health issue or has a disagreement. I got lucky with the 100, my ship made it to the end, even if they were the ship with one of the smallest fanbases (sorry, I am a total Mackson fan – they are what brought me to tumblr & Ao3 in the first place), so I didn’t hate J Roth for the shit writing in Season 7 (also, don’t hate season 7 – see my ship for why 7x14 was a total gift for me)

*I really can’t see Tim treating any of this cast like J Roth did Ricky & Bob

*Tim will fuck with us though – and since he gives us such beautiful scenes (even the hard ones), I will forgive him. While he loves to tear our hearts out, he is sure to let us know that he will let these characters put them back in place. He knows that we love them, but he does deserve to be protective of his work (even when we don’t agree with him).

I enjoy reading people’s thoughts, adding my own, and welcome people sending me asks/their thoughts!

#anon #911 lone star season 4 #911 lone star spoilers #911 lone star speculation #The 100 #Tarlos #Carlos Reyes #TK Strand #Tim Minear #J Roth

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Text

October 8th

Monsters

Ah, @melkors-big-tits...I don't even have the words to explain what your support has meant to me.

In my battle against indoctrination and shame, you've been more than just a help, you've made me laugh about things that used to make me cry...and that's invaluable.

This tiny snippet is dedicated to your beautiful art and to @thenookienostradamus's beautiful TRSB fic (Yeah, definitely go read that one, it's HILARIOUS and beautiful).

Thanks for everything ❤️‍🔥

Words: 653

Warning: a tad of sadness and references to NSFW things (but nothing happens)

Gothmog stared at the palms of what he would have confidently called his “hands” and sighed; he seldom ventured out of the fortress except on business – heavily armed and singularly determined – for a good reason.

It was ridiculous to take the throwaway comment of a wide-eyed brat and his sour-faced mother so to heart, but somehow, he couldn’t shake the gloom that had crept into the cracks in his tough skin. He should have killed them then and there, but, if he had given in to his most savage impulses, they would have been right and he couldn’t bear that idea.

“Monster!”

The very word echoed in his head even now and he shook it angrily, willing himself to dismiss the ungracious assessment as ignorance or uncalled-for fear.

“What is the matter?” Melkor padded in noiselessly; he had known that something was amiss the moment Gothmog had returned, whatever errand he had wanted to run seemingly forgotten, and had immediately retired to the most remote of chambers which was highly unusual for him.

“Nothing,” Gothmog replied gruffly, but he had to consider that, if anyone might understand his predicament, it would be Melkor – the Dark and Terrible – and so, he repeated the slur flung at him so mercilessly. The very word tasted like bile on his steaming tongue.

“Oh darling,” Melkor whispered, slinging his arms around the solid midriff of his devoted servant and trusted officer in an impulsive gesture of solidarity and comfort, “they didn’t mean it…and even if they did, they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re wonderful.”

“I am a smouldering pile of evil,” Gothmog whined, aware that he was wallowing in self-pity but unable to claw himself out of the roiling pit of misery, “I am a heap of discarded shards of violence.”

“You are a marvel,” Melkor contradicted firmly even though his voice was warm and tender, “and I will not listen to you disparaging yourself so. You’re the best at what you do, and your appearance reflects your inner strength, is there anything more beautiful than that?”

“I guess,” Gothmog sniffled pitifully, but his master’s words had pierced the hardening shell of despondency and despair; it was true that Melkor himself scintillated and bulged with his glorious purpose and nobody would ever have dared question his exceptional even if unusual pulchritude.

“What would cheer you up?” Melkor asked when Gothmog’s face didn’t tilt up with new vigour immediately, “should we go find some stray Elves and make them praise your beauty?”

“It doesn’t count if you make them,” Gothmog objected petulantly; in the depth of his volcanic heart though, he knew that he’d forever be loyal to this whimsical and queer creature.

As monstruous as the Dark Lord might have been to his foes, he was known to be kind, supportive, and boundlessly entertaining to his own people which might explain why there was so little infighting under his rule. Could those who sought to smear his name and defile his legacy say the same about themselves? Gothmog thought that to be highly unlikely, but then again, the elves were notorious liars and cheaters…

“Make them? Me? I’d never,” Melkor swore with an exaggerated look of insulted innocence in his flashing eyes and – slinging his arm around Gothmog’s searing hot shoulders – he dragged the faithful Lord of Balrogs out of his hideout resolutely to take him out for a merry hunt.

Thankfully, his scouts had told him this very morning about a group of confused-looking, pointy-eared spies rummaging around in the underbrush like the scurrying, furtive critters they were.

A bit of fun would surely dispel Gothmog’s bad mood and if he’d have to drag the poor wretch down onto the steaming remnants of their enemies’ dismembered bodies to make him feel how beautiful he really was, Melkor would consider that part of his duties as the caring and hands-on regent he prided himself on being.

So, remember kids, it doesn't matter what you look like and "beautiful" is just a word. If you're loved the way Gotty is loved (by me and Melkor), what difference does it make that he looks funky?

@fellowshipofthefics: eh, a bit of monster-loving (no, not that other thing, not me, never me loool)

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #fotfics October challenge #fotfics fictober #ficlet run #1 scene per day #a different pairing every day #the silm #the silmarillion #gothmog #Melkor #Melkor x Gothmog #it's hard to look like that #soft moment #and murder #hehehe

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rosetintedgunman · 1 year

Text

Buckle up kiddos. Tonight, I'm going to tell you all about Santa!Wilford (or Wilford Warfclaus, etc). First, I shall bribe you with three doodles to show the differences between how he is normally, how he would look in winter if someone knows the secret, and on Christmas Eve/Day before it all starts reverting back.

No matter how he looks, he's a cutie. Scientific fact.

Now, you may be thinking, "Ash, this is a ridiculous idea that isn't relevant at all". I simply shake my head and tell you to pay more attention. At the end of Markiplier TV, Wilford starts performing an improv scat/performance. One of the lines is "I killed Santa Claus [...] No presents for the children of the world". It's a throwaway joke, sure, but I always remembered it. Plus, it's the only rambling about a cultural/historical figure that made it into the final cut (Mark's bloopers make other references to history).

Then, a few years ago, I was watching the S.anta C.lause movie. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. It's silly and wholesome. But the general plot is this: if you kill Santa Claus and put on the coat, the clause comes into play and makes you take over. And you won't believe what Wilford did.

This meant, in this timeline, Wilford ended up with this HUGE responsibility. And he hated it. He ignored it every year until mid-December when he either had a strong instinct pulling him back, or elves literally kidnapped him. He should have been stuck in the North Pole full-time, but his own reality warping powers trumped that. It's also why he doesn't look the part most of the time. There was an upside to all this: Wilford finally was able to start vaguely keeping track of time.

But then… there was one year, fairly recently, where he put out a statement banning the naughty list for that year. He realised everyone was feeling rotten, and it might be nice to have something good to look forward to. That idea placed a tiny gear in his brain.

(It's said that Christmas was the most magical in a long time)

At some point during the following year, the gear clicked, and Wilford realised the responsibility he had. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, all the blood on his hands and madness in his head, he was in charge of something that brought happiness. He decided, for the first time, to make a proper effort. This included helping with the heavy lifting, and also trying to come up with "You Survived the Year" gimmicks for those that didn't believe in him.

This year has been a curious one. He's regaining more of his memories as William, and he's more aware of the present moment than ever before. He's been hopping between the Roller, the Studio, and the North Pole, and you might think this is far too much for one character in one verse…. But that's exactly what William did.

You see, after the war, William hated downtime. He didn't like sitting around, doing nothing, and thinking about everything that happened. He had a bunch of free time in the trenches and it's not a good place to reflect on life. William began keeping himself as busy as possible. When things were good, he was working as Mark's handyman, covering duties in the barracks, and working on renovating the little cottage he was living in. Thus, the idea of juggling several jobs isn't that far fetched to Wilford. In fact, with how he can teleport and take shortcuts, it's easier to manage them all.

So what of others knowing? By default, your character won't know. At the time of writing this, Wilford would have half-white hair and a white beard. However, he can hide these when he isn't in the North Pole, and he'll do so as much as possible. He doesn't understand why he can't tell anyone he wants, but it's a rule that he begrudgingly has to follow. It won't stop him trying to find out what people are hoping for or try to motivate adults to take part again, for instance.

Saying that, he can tell people. If he's dating someone long-term, he has to let them know. They would notice the long disappearances. Anyone associated with Christmas or other Holidays would see through his illusion. If it's someone he absolutely trusts, he might drop a hint, but it would be dependent on the individual. Otherwise, he'll laugh off any suspicion, admitting that his tubby shape gives off that impression.

It is a gimmick, absolutely, but it also plays a part in my interpretation of Wilford. It's helped him keep track of time - since taking on the role, he has barely fallen out of time, compared to constantly doing so beforehand. It's given him connections unrelated to the other Egos, and a chance to interact with others in a strange way. It's allowed him to have somewhere where he can be childish and silly and be encouraged. It's a place where he physically cannot take out his gun without it disappearing in a puff of glitter to be temporarily confiscated. All in all…. It's done him good. And maybe, one day, he'll tell someone because he thinks spending time in a place like the North Pole would do them some good too, but we'll see how things go. And! After a lot of begging he's been given a suit that is a little more pinkish-red than it ought to be!

At the end of the day, Wilford is the first Santa to already have reality warping powers. When everything else in his life fades away, he'll always have the Santa role. He can't stay dead, after all, so the clause would never pass on to another. With that in mind, he'll try and do what he can to bring a bit of joy.

Especially to his friends. He's a little biased.

#reporterheadcanon #long post #(I think I've had this on the blog the whole time; or at least for three years)#(whichever it is I am very proud of this silly thing. afaik I haven't seen anyone else take this idea and run with it)#(he has also been trying to use the day to celebrate people surviving the year regardless of beliefs or traditions. You deserve a reward!)#on the tablet #(whoops I better go sleep)

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