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sg2tiger · 1 year

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I'm a weird person who likes archiving things. Making lists. Etc. My friends bully me for it all the time but it's simply who I am 😔 I always liked doing these little end-of-year gaming wrap ups but they never really felt right on twitter (and I had to post my rambling thoughts at an external link anyway). I thought about just coming back with 2022 and ignoring the two years I didn't post them here but the gap would bother me too much, so here's a repost of my 2020 gaming recap.

Unless otherwise noted, all text was written in December 2020. For a couple games that I’ve played more in the time since I might add some additional thoughts, but I’ll make a note of it being 2022-me talking if so.

The Sims 4

I feel like I have to preface this with the fact that I was never into the Sims franchise, and never played any of the previous games in the series. Yes, yes. I know that they were better than the Sims 4 in every way. But since this is my only Sims game and thus the only metric by which I can judge a Sims game for myself, I can still say that I’ve gotten a lot of fun and enjoyment out of it since obtaining it earlier this year.

It started because some friends of mine were playing, and I became intrigued by the building system (and the death traps one friend was constructing with said building system). I don’t think life simulator games as a whole really appeal to me, which is why I never got into the Sims before now, but I do love me a good building system. And I do think the Sims 4 has a good building system. I just love zoning out and making and decorating houses, even if I’m not exactly GOOD at it.

Still, despite all the things I hear about how inferior Sims 4 is to its predecessors, I’ve enjoyed the gameplay too. Since I play on PC I of course have access to mods to improve some of the areas where it’s lacking, but even so, ON ITS OWN without having anything to compare it to I think it can be a lot of fun if you know how you want to play it. Like, the only real ‘playthrough’ I have done so far that wasn’t just me testing mods and CC and stuff involved me trapping a full household of 8 sims inside a house and forcing them to live together reality show style. Except the house was also cursed AND haunted, and I had a mod that made fires spread faster and kill quicker. The goal was, any sim that could survive until they reached Elder on the fastest aging game speed would be set free from the house and be granted eternal youth and immortality. I had a lot of mini goals pop up as I played this save, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel — “reach elder without dying” — and that helped guide my gameplay enough that I didn’t feel completely aimless, which can be a problem for me if a game is too open-ended sometimes.

I can’t say I’d recommend spending more than $800 for the game and all its packs, but if you were to acquire it through some other means (that I absolutely definitely wouldn’t and am NOT advocating, of course) I think you could theoretically get plenty of enjoyment out of it, especially with the plethora of mods and CC out there. While there are certainly a lot of areas that have room for improvement and I have hopes for with the eventual Sims 5, I don’t think the Sims 4 is a BAD game. At least for a newcomer to the franchise like me who can’t really be disappointed because I have nothing to compare it with. To me, it’s a fun sandbox where I can zone out and enjoy building, or just throw some hapless sims into a horrible situation and play god. And sometimes it’s nice to have a game like that where you can just turn your brain off and do whatever.

Undertale

Yeah, I know. Undertale in 2020, extremely late to the party, etc. Thing is, when I first heard about Undertale, it sounded like a cute and fun game that I would probably enjoy. And then the overzealous fandom blew up and no one would shut the fuck up about it, casual spoilers were literally all over the place, and people looked at you like you had two heads if you said you hadn’t played it or didn’t want to play it. I got SO SICK of seeing people not SHUT THE FUCK UP about FUCKING UNDERTALE that I developed hype aversion and came to actively hate a game I’d never played, a game I probably WOULD LIKE if I played it, because everyone was so goddamn obsessed with it. I was actively avoiding it for years for this reason.

Anyway, after many years of consciously avoiding anything to do with Undertale as a result of the hype aversion, I ended up deciding to play it after all at the behest of good friends whose opinions I trust and who knew about my hype aversion going in. We sat down and talked it through and decided that I’d stream it to them on Discord while playing. They wouldn’t influence my gameplay or talk out of turn and spoil things for me, or give me hints I didn’t ask for, or tell me how to play the game. We’d meet once a week for a few hours for ‘Undertuesday’ and they’d just watch me play and experience things for myself (even if I sometimes very definitely annoyed them with my gameplay). And I appreciated that, so thank you guys again for being patient with me.

Now…I think I had a lot of thoughts and feelings about this game when I finally finished it, but it was back in April, and I don’t seem to have put them in writing because we were talking in voice chat. Unfortunately I can no longer remember any of the specific commentary I must have had for the game when it was fresh. But I think my general take was…I wasn’t able to enjoy it as much as I think I could have, had I TRULY been able to go in blind. But I simply had too much meta awareness of what the game was expecting of me due to how much it blew up. My awareness of things like the mere EXISTENCE of ‘pacifist’ and ‘genocide’ routes ensured that I tried to do the right thing throughout and never kill any monsters, because I knew the game didn’t ‘want’ me to. I had foreknowledge that actively changed the way I may have played had I not known. I also knew that the player character and the original lost human were not one in the same. Perhaps my feelings about the story may have changed had I been properly fooled into believing they were. And in general I had a hard time letting myself like Papyrus and Sans because of how popular they had become, and how sick I was of seeing their faces plastered all over the internet at the height of Undertale’s popularity.

Lots of things like that, mostly little things, but those little things added up to an experience that felt inherently tainted compared to being able to go in without that foreknowledge. I felt like I was just acting the way the game ‘wanted’ me to, but didn’t always expect me to, because a part of me knew that I was supposed to act that way if I wanted the best ending. Because I knew I’d be guilted and punished if I acted differently. Because I went into a game that acts as a deconstruction of the genre knowing that it was a deconstruction. I don’t know how else to put it, but I feel like I wasn’t really able to play it genuinely, and it affected my perception of the game and its themes. Perhaps also being aware that my friends, to whom this game means a great deal, were watching me with expectations and hopes of their own that I would come away loving it as much as they did, and wanted me to. And I feel like I probably let them down because that just didn’t happen for me.

Undertale is a good game. It’s cute, it’s got some cheeky little amusing moments, and you can tell a great deal of love was put into it. I understand why it’s as beloved as it is. But I think it’s also a good lesson about fandom hype and how NOT to try and get your friends to play a game you like (or watch a show, or whatever). I know that when you’re very interested in something you want more than anything to get your friends to become interested in it too — believe me, I’ve been there, and I was definitely the annoying type about it (especially about Umineko). But I think it’s also very important not to let your excitement for a thing override the experience of others, especially if you want them to love it as much as you do. Undertale feels like the kind of game that really works best when you can go in blind and not have your experienced guided — directly or indirectly — by spoilers and meta knowledge. I feel like I definitely would have been able to appreciate it more had I been able to have a natural experience with it, anyway.

Assassin’s Creed Odyssey

A lot of my thoughts on Odyssey are basically repeats of my thoughts on Origins from last year, so I won't rehash those here. The TL;DR of it is, I can enjoy both games on their own merits as vaguely historical open world action games, but not as what I consider to be Assassin’s Creed games. What I consider to be Assassin’s Creed has essentially ended with Syndicate, and it appears that we won’t be going back, now that Valhalla continues to follow in Odyssey’s footsteps in turning the franchise into (the very loose definition of) an RPG.

What’s NEW here from Origins is the addition of dialogue options and “choices” in how quests can complete. Except your choices aren’t real choices at all, and the player never truly has any agency in the parts of the story that actually matter in the end. (spoilers for this next part so skip to the end if you don’t want ‘em)

Phoebe always dies, for example. No matter what you do. No matter how fast you are. No matter what choices you made before this point in the story. Her character, regardless of what you do or don’t do, is destined to die. To me this would have been an IDEAL point in the story to have some actual cause and effect…like, maybe my actions earlier with her friend and the plague business could influence this, and if I choose poorly, I would have to live with the fact that I’d doomed her. Or something DURING the quest itself, as you pursue her. Maybe you could have acted in a way to get to her in time. I know they really wanted Aspasia’s reveal as the big bad to be a surprising end game affair, but it was pretty heavily foreshadowed at this point in the story (I didn’t think she was The Ghost yet but I certainly was suspicious of her being a cultist). Maybe if my character could have had the opportunity to not trust her, I could have advised Phoebe to not work for her at all, and not end up endangered as a result. There are any number of ways they could have given me the agency to either save or or TRULY end up responsible for her death by my actions. They did not. She is scripted to die no matter what you do. And this is just one example of many points in the game just like it where places that I feel like I SHOULD be able to influence the outcome with my decisions don’t do jack shit because it’s scripted. By contrast, most times that my decision CAN influence the outcome of a quest, the change is so minor (slightly different dialogue or the opportunity to pursue a bland out of the blue fade-to-black sex scene I don’t want) that it doesn’t feel worthwhile at all.

At the end of the day I’m left wondering why this even needed to be a feature at all. Just to give the illusion that this is an RPG now, and broaden the customer base? Because that’s what it feels like. The game could have played out almost exactly the same had they gone with a FULLY scripted story like all the previous games, especially since Alexios/Kassandra clearly already have a pre-written personality that comes across through the things they say and the way they say them regardless of which dialogue options you actually choose. The choices are basically tacked on for appearance’s sake, choices in name only. I felt nothing meaningful from a single one of my choices in all of my 207 hours so far (I’m still trying for 100% completion but I have finished the main questline with both Deimos and unveiling all the cult members). And that’s my biggest complaint about this game — the “choices” didn’t even need to exist because their absence wouldn’t have actually changed the game at all.

And that’s not even getting into the whole forced DLC marriage and child debacle (I don’t own it and plenty of other people have already gone on at length elsewhere on the internet about it, but I think it speaks to the exact same issue of the game promising and giving the illusion of player choice but ultimately still having a scripted story to tell and a protagonist whose personality is already set in stone regardless of your ingame decisions).

At this point I had a whole txt file with more specific examples of Quests That Did Not Actually Give Me A Choice but you get the picture, so I’m not gonna go on endlessly about each one…

Anyway. I feel like Ubisoft would be better off just making a new IP if they want to explore the RPG market so badly. Assassin’s Creed never fit this format and I don’t feel it ever will. RPGs with significant choices work best with silent protagonists (though I feel like KC:D did a serviceable job without one), not fully fleshed out characters who already have literally existed in a historical context by way of the game’s entire premise. By actively taking place in the past you are inherently limiting the things my character can do to influence the story, because that story has already concluded, and the results of it can be seen in the present day story. But they keep being so wishy-washy with the present day story that it’s like a relic at this point anyway that they’re just afraid to drop entirely to piss off the minority who still cares (me, I’m the minority). But when it clearly doesn’t MATTER anymore, why not just bite the bullet and do it already? You could always resolve the loose ends in a comic tie-in lololol

Honestly though, while I’m probably the .0001% who actually enjoys reading all of the stuff on Layla’s PC that gives more context on the lore of the modern day assassins vs. templars conflict and the overarching story that’s been running through this franchise since day 1, I think we’re at a point where they may as well just let it go. They’ve been doing it so dirty since Black Flag as it is, I’d rather just see it go than get further tarnished by being forcefully tacked on because it’s an artifact of the series. After the complete disregard for modern day that we saw in Unity and Syndicate I was genuinely excited when we got Layla, because I thought she’d step into the role of The New Desmond and have adventures that actually made the modern day story relevant again…but she’s actually LESS relevant than the nameless faceless Black Flag modern day protagonist, and that’s just sad. Just pull the plug already, Ubisoft. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you want this series to become a loosely historical sandbox RPG and the intricate and complex lore of the modern day storyline is only dragging you down. You don’t care about it anymore, so what’s it matter to people like me who DO care if you’re not giving it proper attention either way? Just let it die before it can be disgraced any more.

I’m getting off track though…honestly, it’s a fun game. Like I said, 207 hours and I’m still not done shooting for 100% completion by exploring every island and doing every sidequest that I missed my first go around. If I wasn’t having fun at all I wouldn’t still be here. I AM having fun. I think less fun than I had with Origins, if I’m being honest, but it’s definitely not a bad game. I’ll just never be happy with the idea of the series going in this direction in the first place, so I’m always gonna be here nitpicking about little things the majority of people won’t care at all about. Like the fact that haystacks and hidespots no longer exist despite being a literal staple of the franchise. Or the fact that you can’t die from fall damage anymore. Lack of true poison/berserk darts mechanic or any real ability to sow chaos in an enemy camp without breaking stealth because the game really really REALLY wants to force you into open dynamic combat because it looks cooler in the promo trailers. Feel like I had to fight the game to give my gear all the mechanics that boost Predator Shot and passive adrenaline regeneration so I can pull off multiple headshot kills without being spotted, y’know, like I want to actively do in a game where I expect to play like a proper assassin. Oil barrels also seem way weaker than they were in Origins where setting fire to camps was a risky (because it’s not exactly stealthy and quiet in the traditional sense) but very fun way of making quick work of enemies in the dead of night and then slipping away in the chaos before they could see you. The game just really wants me to be a Spartan Warrior Demigod and I’ve gotta work so hard to NOT be that and it annoys me. Can’t even blow up a grain silo from absolute and complete cover with no one around to witness SHIT and not get a mysterious bounty on my head. Are the horses and goats reporting my crimes again, like in Skyrim?

I could keep going with nitpick after nitpick but I won’t. I’m just cranky because I actually really liked both Unity (gameplay-wise, the story was a trainwreck) and Syndicate (slightly less of a trainwreck which is funny considering the presence of actual trains) and thought they did a lot to really refine that tried and true core Assassin’s Creed gameplay…and I know it’s never coming back. But Odyssey is fun I guess. If you aren’t an experienced AC fan you’ll probably enjoy it. And I guess that’s exactly how Ubisoft likes it.

Sonic Adventure 2

One day I was babysitting my 3-year old nephew and he told me he wanted to play a ‘blue game’. I didn’t know what that meant (I have since learned that this is how he refers to his parents’ Switch, which is light blue) so I looked in my Steam library for something blue. I landed on this, which I forgot I even had on PC. And that’s how I got my nephew obsessed with Sonic and also how I spent the next 2 months reliving one of my favorite games of the GameCube era.

I don’t really have a lot to say here. It’s Sonic Adventure 2. I got big into the Chao Garden, as one does, and trying to A-rank all those stages that used to give me the hardest time. I’m actually really proud to have A-ranked Crazy Gadget on all stage types, and Eternal Engine on all types except Hard (couldn’t manage more than a B). Also got all A ranks on Route 101, but I did that in the olden days too (after a great deal of frustration and one broken GameCube controller). Can’t manage to pull it off for Hard Mode Pyramid Cave though…and I know I DID finally get that one last time I replayed this game, like, 8 years ago, so I know I’m capable, but I just can't manage to pull it off.

Mostly I focus on the Hero stages though. Growing up, me and my brother used to share our save files on most games instead of having separate ones, and when he played I’d watch and vice-versa. For SA2 I always played the Hero story and he played Dark, so I’m always less familiar and more rusty when I try to do the Dark stages. I did get all A ranks on Radical Highway after many many hours of trying (fuck you, time attack)…but that’s about my sole Dark stage claim to fame. Rouge's stages in particular are exceptionally difficult for me.

I was still working on raising some Chao before I inevitably got distracted away by other games…but the good thing about having it on Steam is that my save data will be there next time I get the urge to play, whether it’s a year from now or 5+. No more hunting for old memory cards that probably got lost or thrown out when we moved houses, taking all those hard-earned A ranks and carefully-raised Chao with them. And I think it'll be satisfying to boot it back up after a long time and remind myself that I got all A ranks in Crazy Gadget (the finest achievement I'll ever attain in this lifetime and what should be engraved on my tombstone).

Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town

The original Friends of Mineral Town (back when it was still Harvest Moon) for GBA was probably my favorite Harvest Moon game, so I was excited to play the updated remake. It’s not PERFECT, and I did kinda end my playthrough on a sour note which I will explain in a moment, but looking back on it now several months later I’d say it’s a very comfy and largely casual farming sim that’s hard not to like. Fans of Stardew Valley or more modern farming sims might find it too shallow, but for people who played either the original FoMT, HM64 or Back to Nature, it’s a fun and nostalgic little game.

Of course, as with all remakes, there’s always those things you wish they didn’t change. Some of the character redesigns don’t sit as well with me as the originals, but most of them grew on me as I played (except Karen…). The removal of rival marriages is also a heavy blow, simply because a certain Japanese market didn’t like the idea that their waifus might get “stolen” if they didn’t act fast enough (and iirc you had like, 2 whole years before they WOULD in the original so like…)…I’d like to say the inclusion of same-sex marriage makes up for it, but I wish we could have had both. I always end up wooing everyone in town before I actually get married in these games, just so I can see all the events, and then I feel bad for leading everyone else on, so I like the idea that they’ll find happiness together too! I think that if the game were ever able to be hacked for mod support this would be the first thing modders would put back in.

But while these things are the main offenders you’ll hear people talk about, they’re not the worst. A lot of this is probably on the nitpick level that most players won’t care about so feel free to stop reading here. Granted that a lot of the game’s issues stem from being a little TOO faithful to the original and some of its more frustrating gimmicks (who honestly thought a 50 year wedding anniversary gift was a good idea in a game where no one will ever age?!), but there are a lot of things that were CHANGED from the original and made needlessly more difficult for some baffling reason…and then tied to achievements, to boot.

So, most of the achievements are pretty easy to get as long as you play normally and get past 3 years. Others require you to go a bit out of your way to achievement hunt for them specifically, but are absolutely doable if you set your mind to doing them. But then there are the ones that basically require you to plan your entire save file around getting them, and making no mistakes in the process unless you just really really REALLY love waiting around for entire ingame seasons before you get another chance. The main offenders here are all related to breeding farm animals, and how they needlessly changed the breeding mechanics in this game for seemingly no reason than to make things more tedious and difficult.

See, the remake introduced a convoluted friendship/happiness system to all your animals. I think the original had some hidden friendship requirements too, but the main thing in the remake is that animals you purchase have a friendship CAP, after which they cannot continue to gain more friendship, even if you’ve had them and cared for them every day lovingly for years. The only way to raise that cap is to breed your animals, and each time you breed a successive generation that heart cap goes up by one. Purchased animals cap out at 5 out of a maximum of 8 hearts. If you breed your 5 heart cow you bought, it’ll have 6 hearts. Breed that one and it’ll raise to 7. And so on down the line until you have a cow with 8 hearts…which is basically a requirement if you want to get several achievements, and if you aren’t aware of this and start doing it IN YOUR FIRST YEAR you’re going to have a very bad time.

See, you need your animals to have max hearts if you want them to produce the highest-quality animal products (milk, eggs, wool). And you need those animal products in order to cook some dishes, which you need for the achievement to cook all dishes in the game. And you need them at max hearts to win the seasonal animal festivals, which also have achievements. And the thing about those festivals is that they come once a year, and if you don’t have your maxed out adult animal by the time they roll around you have to wait a whole year to do it again. This is much worse than it sounds when you consider the aforementioned fact that the heart cap only raises by one with each successive time you breed…and it takes a full season (30 days) for a pregnant animal to give birth, and about another 20 for that baby animal to become fully grown. And then you have to actually GET that animal’s friendship maxed out up to its cap before you can breed them and pass that cap on to its baby (I think? I was playing in August so I’m a bit fuzzy but I’m pretty sure this was part of what made it so obnoxious because you couldn’t just breed the baby as soon as it hit adult stage if you wanted to do it right).

Now remember, the animal festivals come only once a year. You can’t submit a pregnant or baby animal, but you need an animal with 8 hearts or more (10 is actually the maximum but you only need 8 for everything that matters) to win the festivals. So if you time your breeding poorly, you might not have an animal that’s ready for the festival in time…there’s also holidays and the occasional typhoon/blizzard (which you can sort of cheat your way around in most cases if you’re vigilant about watching the weather channel) that can interfere in your ability to feed and brush the animals, which loses you precious days of raising that friendship.

Now let’s say you didn’t even find out about this cap system, or the 8 heart requirement for winning festivals, until well into your third year, after you’ve gotten most of the other achievements and basically done almost all you wanted to do in this game. Well too bad, because you’re basically going to need another 2 years minimum before you’ll actually have a prize-winning animal ready for the next festival! And if you’ve already befriended all the townsfolk, gotten all the romances, married, fully upgraded your farm, learned all the cooking recipes, fully explored both mines, and basically everything ELSE in the game besides these achievements…you’re going to have a lot of extremely BORING grind ahead of you where you basically just wake up, care for the animals, go back to bed and repeat. For season. After season. After season.

I was basically working like crazy to try and pull this off and I DID actually just barely not make it in time for the sheep festival one year which kinda threw me over the edge in my anger about this mechanic. And if you want to get all the products for your shipping log (thank GOD not required for an achievement, but something I was actively trying to complete before the breeding madness made me just say fuck it, achievements and then I’m done with this game) you have to do this for each type of cow as well…or at least have the sense not to buy any other type of cow besides normal until you’ve already gotten an 8-heart cow through breeding. Because whenever you buy a new animal of the same type after raising the cap, those animals will have the increased heart cap too…so if you had bred yourself a cow with 6 hearts, and bought a new cow, it’d have a 6 maximum instead of 5, and the different cow flavors all run on the same cap system as the normal cow (but only the normal cow’s milk is needed for the cooking achievement so the flavored cows are…well, frankly useless outside of the shipping log).

If this were the only frustrating system in the game I could probably suck it up and deal. It’s very obnoxious since, despite all the tutorial books in the library, I don’t think any of them mention this mechanic at all and basically require you to read about it in an online guide to know (and sucks to be you if you don’t do so early into your save so you can get started on it ASAP), and because it takes so much time to do it that it’ll take you a couple years for certain…but I’d probably sigh, complain a bit, and move past it. But the game decided that this was simply not ENOUGH of a punishingly specific seasonally timed game mechanic to tie to an achievement. No…instead they had to throw in that achievement for owning all 4 of the possible animal pets.

In the original FoMT you just started the game with a dog and you could take it to the fetch festival on the beach in summer. That was about it. The remake introduced different breeds of dog as well as cats, penguins and capybara you can get during different seasons from a special pet merchant. That merchant only shows up on the 15th of the month, and only if it’s sunny, and only if you’ve done some other stuff I forget exactly in order for him to start coming to town. And THEN, the pet he sells changes per season — cats in spring, penguins in summer, dogs in fall and capybara in winter. He won’t sell you a second pet until you’ve raised — you guessed it — your friendship hearts with your first pet, and it also has to be an adult…and you also guessed it, this takes a lot of time and daily dedication to level. And you have to do this until you’ve obtained all 4 pets from him, which you have to do EXACTLY on a sunny 15th day of each season, and only when all of your other pets are adults with maxed friendship.

Getting the idea yet? Another achievement basically tailor made to make you waste your time living through more ingame years than the game has engaging content to complete, and another element that you basically have to read about online to know exactly how it works. I wanted to get a cat. Cats are sold in spring, but it’s impossible for the merchant to come to town before the SUMMER of first year, so the earliest you can get a cat is year 2. It’s also not possible to get two pets in a row — your pet does not grow from baby to adult in time. I tried. So you CAN’T get a cat in spring of year 2, and then a penguin in summer of year 2…you have to skip over summer that year and you’ll be able to get a dog in autumn year 2. But then your dog won’t be an adult by winter of year 2, so you can’t get a capybara. But you can get a cat in year 3 spring! Oh wait, you have a cat already? Bummer. You effectively shot yourself in the foot and wasted time by not buying your pets with the maximum efficiency required to get this achievement.

I was in year 6 by the time I finally got all of the achievements. I had actually reached a point where I basically abandoned my actual save and made a second save file just to do this, neglecting my friends, family, livestock and farm for the sole purpose of waking up, playing fetch with my pet, going to bed and repeating until the time came that I could buy my next pet. The amount of time I wasted, both in real life and in the game, was just unbelievable. The unbelievably restricted mechanics in this game that can’t even be blamed on it being a remake of something so old, because they were actively INTRODUCED in the remake…by the time that last achievement finally popped I was just 1000% fucking done. I came away from a fun and jaunty little remake of a beloved game from my yesteryear feeling angry and soured on the whole experience. And I know that’s stupid, and I know you don’t have to get all achievements and I know achievements should be for things that you really SHOULD work to ACHIEVE and not be handed out like candy. But there’s a difference between achievements that make me feel like I worked hard to achieve them, and achievements that are gated behind ridiculously convoluted time-gated events that require you to actively stop playing the game normally and dedicate yourself solely to…waiting. To grinding your real actual time WAITING day after ingame day until the right time appears, and praying to God you didn’t fuck up and miss even one day in your routine. It’s bullshit, plain and simple.

And it’s not enough for me to not recommend this game, because I still had a lot of nostalgia and fun with it and this isn’t something that’s going to affect the vast, vast majority of players. I just…it’s remarkable how this game is both cutesy and casual and also so sadistic in its torments that it would make Satan himself blush. And it just kinda left a bad taste in my mouth by the time I’d finished and made me want to rant about it. And I put it in my notes, ‘rant about this thing when you write up the end of year post because I’m too angry to do it now’, and I didn’t wanna let my past self down. They put a lot of wasted time into getting those achievements, dammit, they deserve a little 10-paragraph rant as a treat.

But hey — at least I’m in the less-than-1% of (Steam) players who made it.

Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright

Been playing this on and off at a very slow pace for a while now…I’m not finished yet so I don’t really have a whole lot to say. It’s…alright. It’s like Awakening: More Differenter Edition, except it lacks a lot of the charm that game had and copypastes some of its mechanics over seemingly just for the sake of it despite it not REALLY making sense to do so (I’m looking at you, dimension babies). The characters are less charming and memorable IMO, and while I kinda like the story plot itself more than Awakening’s, I’m not a big fan of the Pokemon-style version split between the two stories. I’m basically never going to buy or play Conquest, so I’m effectively missing out entirely on the characters and perspective of that side…a perfect scheme to engineer people into buying two copies of the same game, of course (at least with Pokemon the idea is that you’re socializing with other people to get what you don’t have…that logic doesn’t really work when it’s an entire story that you’re splitting between two games that effectively must be played by the same one person to get the full experience).

I was enjoying it well enough though, even if not loving it, until the other day when I finally got to that mission. Suffice to say I didn’t have the requisite A-rank with a certain someone, who was then Doomed To Die By Cutscene In The Stupidest Most Convoluted Way Possible, despite that person being one of my best and most-used units gameplay-wise…so I was basically punished for not having them stand next to my PC character, specifically. But I’m not going to go on another 10-paragraph rant about why I hate game mechanics that come out of the blue and give you no way of knowing about them without seeking knowledge from outside the game. Suffice to say I just sucked it up and reloaded my save, grinded out the last level of support on one of the bonus maps (we were at a B support already…just not A 🙄), and then replayed what had been one of the hardest maps to get through in the game so far the first time (it was easier the second time since I knew about the reinforcements spawning nigh endlessly from the towers if you don’t block em off). The character’s life was spared and life goes on.

Still one of the stupidest things I’ve encountered in a game though, since no other Fire Emblem has had something like that locked to a support, to my knowledge (unless the old pre-GBA ones that I never played did), and there’s really NOTHING in the game’s story to that point that suggests this character’s relationship with the protagonist is important enough to doom them to Death By Cutscene if you don’t support them to A before that point. I was angry. But I managed to overcome it so I’ve moved on.

2022 Addendum: I finished this game the following year, before moving on to play Three Houses. My final verdict was ultimately one of disappointment, hence the updated ‘Meh’ review on the page image. The writing was just plain bad (and I’ve heard that it’s arguably worse on the other two routes), and the characters were just not that memorable or likeable to me with maybe two exceptions. What I did like about it was the gameplay - and at this point I can’t even remember the specifics, but I do remember that there were a few times playing Three Houses where I kept thinking ‘man I really miss being able to do [x] like in Fates’, so I guess there’s that. I know Birthright is also the Baby Easy Mode of the Fates trilogy, but I think Conquest would probably be hard enough to piss me off (I put up with that shit in the GBA era but I don’t know if 2022 Tiger is patient enough for that anymore).

But mostly, the reason I don’t ever particularly care to play Conquest or Revelation is simply because Birthright wasn’t satisfying enough in the writing department for me to WANT to. Ideally you’d want one of your 3-part game series to hook the player into wanting to see how things go down on the other routes, right? Like, no one plays a visual novel, gets one ending, and says ‘okay that’s enough’ (r-right?). If the writing were GOOD it should make me want to see things from the other side. If the characters were compelling enough I should want to see them through another viewpoint. And if the overarching plot (which I spoiled myself on once I decided I didn’t want to ever play the other two games) actually had more hints to its presence IN Birthright’s story, enough to nag at my mind and say ‘there’s something unfinished here and I want to know what it is’...but well, it didn’t. Birthright didn’t manage to make me care about any of those things, certainly not enough to spend more money to buy both a second entire full-priced game and THEN a paid DLC on top of that.

Some people play these games entirely for the strategy gameplay, and that’s the crowd I hear praising Conquest. But other than that I get the strong sense that I’m not alone in finding Fates a pretty weak entry in the series overall. Thankfully I feel that Three Houses more than made up for all of Fates’ shortcomings, at least in the writing and character department, but I’ll talk about that more in my 2021 Three Houses review. UNthankfully...well, I’m not too excited for what I’ve seen about Engage so far, so I guess time will tell as to whether Fates redeems itself in my eyes in the future.

Skyrim Modlist: Elder Souls

I think it’s becoming a meme at this point that Skyrim, in some form, will be on these lists at the end of every year. But I can’t help it…something about it calls to me every year around the same time (late August to September) and it always manages to pull me back in 😔

Anyway, last year I gave Ultimate Skyrim a try because the last time I modded my own game I broke things in hilarious ways by trying to make my own mod compatibility patches (turns out I’m not that good at it). I thought having someone else curate the modlist experience for me would alleviate my problems. And I loved that part of it, and how integrated Ultimate Skyrim’s systems felt compared to me just slapping together whatever I liked with no thought to how those systems would interact. Unfortunately I wasn’t as big a fan of Requiem, the entire system Ultimate Skyrim is based upon…

But in the intervening year between playthroughs, Automaton (the tool used to install Ultimate Skyrim) gave way to a new tool called Wabbajack, and an entire new world of curated modlist installers opened up before me. I decided to peruse the various Wabbajack lists and see if I could find one that’d suit me a little better than Requiem…and I actually really liked the sound of Elder Souls.

As the name implies, Elder Souls is basically The Dark Souls Of Skyrim. The world is harsher, bleaker, and filled with a huge variety of new enemies and dungeons chemically balanced specifically to kick your ass. The skill and leveling system is completely overhauled — aside from the crafting skills (smithing, alchemy and enchanting), you don’t gain exp and level up by doing anymore. You gain gold with each kill, and when you sleep you spend an increasing amount of gold to raise your level in the skill of your choice. Eventually you’ll earn enough exp to level up and gain perk points to invest. As you level, the amount of gold it takes to progress increases higher and higher, from the hundreds to the several thousands…but as you grow in power, you’ll be able to kill more enemies to earn more gold to put towards leveling up further. It’s actually a really cohesive and fun gameplay loop that works surprisingly well in Skyrim, and I came to enjoy it a lot.

Of course you can also earn gold in the usual ways…loot, selling loot, crafting things and selling those…everything you do in the game basically makes you think about how much gold you have and how you want to invest it. In the early game especially, when it’s so hard to kill and loot enemies, that expensive weapon at the blacksmith can be really tempting…but that means you’ll be spending the gold you need to level up, so it’s a judgment call. It also makes you really focus your character build because your skillups are restricted to when you can sleep and afford them, and your perk points become harder and harder to earn as each level up starts to feel so far away (though you can find perk points by exploring and finding waystones in the world as well, for a little extra help). Do you want to invest that perk in alchemy or enchanting? Or is it more practical to boost your damage or defense by taking a combat perk instead? It really makes you think about how you level.

In the early game, you’re a fragile little baby. When you die, you leave behind a gravestone and all your gold with it (you don’t lose your gear) and respawn in the last inn you slept in. If you can get back to your body before dying again, you can recover your gold…but if you die on the way, it’s gone forever. It may be practical to bring a follower along for better survival, but they’re expensive to hire and share in a portion of the gold you earn…is it worth the tradeoff for the survivability? I managed to get lucky and beat Uthgerd the Unbroken in a fistfight by using the architecture of the Bannered Mare to my advantage, ducking and weaving, so I earned a ‘free’ follower to carry my burdens and tank for me in my early hours. She also came at level 11 when I was like, level 3. I had to make her essential, though, because she kept jumping in front of my arrows when I tried to shoot the enemy and I killed her/reloaded about 5 times before I’d had enough of that 😔

By the middle to the end of the game, though, if you’ve been diligent in exploring, killing and building your perks well, you come to feel like an invincible god. You can take anything alone, and followers just get in the way. I was playing an Orc warrior, with two-handed/heavy armor/archery/smithing. Orcs in Elder Souls have passive health regeneration. With the Wintersun religion mod I followed Malacath, of course, and his boon allowed me to regain health for the amount of overkill damage I dealt with each enemy kill based on my favor with him. My favor with him was constantly high because I pleased him by constantly slaying great and powerful foes. With the addition of crafting equippable Runes I furthered my health regeneration per kill and buffs to my armor rating. For completing Meridia’s daedric quest I got a spell that…well I forget what it did exactly but it buffed me even more. Using Ocato’s Recital I had it autocast whenever I entered combat. As a werewolf, I also had further buffs to my health and stamina, even outside of my beast form. By the endgame I was further buffed by Black Books and the reforged Gauldur Amulet (which in Elder Souls has the extremely OP power of letting you revive once on death with a 15 minute cooldown — but considering the Gauldur brothers are extremely formidable, it’s a reward worthy of defeating them). And with the Cleave ability in the two-handed perk tree allowing me to deal AoE damage with each attack, I became a literally unkillable, unstoppable machine of death.

I’m not even a min-maxer. Optimizing builds and gear isn’t something I find fun, so I don’t really do it. This just was mostly a case of multiple factors all aligning in just the right ways to make me feel like a literal actual god. To further illustrated exactly how broken my character became by the endgame, there’s an enemy in the Vigilant mod designed to be unkillable — as in, you’re supposed to just RUN from her if she sees you. I’m kind of a weenie about horror in games in general so I was very scared and I did run and panic when I got to that part of the dungeon but then I got cornered in a room and in my panic flailed about attacking and…killed her. And then her equally scary friend who showed up shortly thereafter. Just killed them both. They’re either meant to have stupidly high health or defense or maybe both, I read about them online and they are definitely not meant to be killable because this section of the mod is more or less supposed to be a survival horror. You can’t kill the monsters chasing you, you can only run. Unless you’re me, the most broken Skyrim character who ever lived.

Anyway. To further drive home how much I ENJOYED Elder Souls, this is the first time I actually, legitimately finished Skyrim. In all my 2,193 hours of OG Skyrim on Steam, in only 228 hours of Elder Souls (this was my first time playing Special Edition so I did have the exact hours on hand) I did what I thought I could never do because I was always so distracted adding and removing mods and generally being too busy breaking my load orders to actually play the game. I beat Alduin. Then I did the Dawnguard DLC for the first time. Then I did Dragonborn for the first time. And then I did vicn’s trilogy of GLENMORIL (I was actually doing this concurrent with Dawnguard), VIGILANT and UNSLAAD. And there were even more quest mods I’d never played included in Elder Souls…but after being able to solo VIGILANT basically effortlessly it felt like nothing in this game could be a proper challenge anymore and I officially decided to call it quits. At level 49, Ushnak the Orc retired, too powerful for Tamriel to contain.

I was still in the mood for Skyrim after that, though, so I grabbed a new modlist and started a new file. But it just…didn’t click. It was a fun enough modlist in its own right (Equanimity) but it just…didn’t feel the same, after getting used to Elder Souls. The world felt so much more empty without all the enemy variety…sure, they had QUANTITY with bandit camps absolutely overflowing with difficult foes, but it wasn’t the same feeling as wandering through the desolate mountains and stumbling upon a minotaur, armed to the teeth and blocking your path. My gold no longer felt like it had value when I couldn’t spend it on skill ups, which had kept loot meaningful throughout the entire game. I feel like Elder Souls just kinda ruined a more traditional Skyrim experience for me…it was so DIFFERENT, and definitely took some getting used to at first, but when I stopped playing I finally realized just how much I’d warmed up to it.

I do wonder how much more punishing it’d be on a different build, though. I was focusing on archery more in the early game but then focused mostly on two-handed by the end, but how would the traditional Skyrim Sneak Archer survive in Elder Souls? What about a mage? I never play mages, but still. A squishier class, a race and religion without inherent health regen abilities…it might be fun to try next year when the Skyrim urge strikes me again. Or maybe I’ll venture out and try another new modlist again. I think I just couldn’t jump RIGHT from the Elder Souls experience into something that was a little closer to normal Skyrim, but a year off might ‘reset’ that a bit. Still though, I’d like to play Elder Souls again sometime. And I wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who wants to play Skyrim for the 100th time, but also like, doesn’t want to play Skyrim for the 100th time.

2022 Addendum: Sadly Elder Souls has been discontinued, so my ‘Recommended’ rating feels a little weird now, but there’s other Soulsy inspired lists out there that can hopefully scratch a similar itch (last one I was playing before I got distracted was Ruvaak which was pretty fun). In general I still cannot recommend Wabbajack modlists enough, and since the time of this review I have not played Skyrim without it being a Wabbajack modlist (with the semi exception of me taking someone else’s Skyrim Together modlist and then kind of hacking it to pieces to fit me and my friends’ needs, but that’s a story for the 2022 game reviews).

Genshin Impact

Some friends were playing Genshin so I decided to give it a try. Especially since it was constantly being called a BoTW clone, and I figured I’d never get a switch or be able to play BoTW, so hey, why not?

I feel like I don’t have a lot to say about it. It’s cute and fun and while the gacha elements are, well, gacha elements, I think the game is still very playable and enjoyable without suffering under the greedy fist of Big Gacha. The elemental interactions are really fun — I love games that take elemental play in more exciting directions than simple “water beats fire” style (one of the reasons I like Divinity a lot). Exploration is also a lot of fun, and it’s always really rewarding to solve a puzzle and see a chest pop up. I was also pleasantly surprised by how much worldbuilding and story there actually is, since I kinda figured it was gonna go more sandbox-style and just throw me out with a vague premise and have me explore the world in hopes of finding my sister.

I’ve enjoyed it a lot so far, I just haven’t played it a ton yet because I’ve also had my hands full with other things. But what’s there so far is pretty fun and I think it’s worth checking out at the very least.

World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth/Shadowlands

A friend of mine usually buys me a couple months of WoW sub for every new expansion (I started playing when Pandaria was current). For reasons I no longer remember but are probably ARK-related, I didn’t end up getting a sub during the BFA period (my last sub came around the end of Legion). So about a month before Shadowlands dropped she got me a new sub, and I had to play catch-up on all the BFA stuff I’d missed out on…and THEN jump into Shadowlands.

Since I didn’t play BFA when it was current content, I think my opinions of it are pretty skewed. From what I hear, Azerite gear was wildly unpopular, but I kinda thought it was fun (granted I’m not into the endgame high tier raiding stuff where it’d really be an issue). I also liked how the Alliance and Horde stories were COMPLETELY different, and not just slightly different takes on doing the same content in the same zones. Both islands have a lot of personality and I thought the stories for both were interesting, and neither really required me to have a PHD in World Of Warcraft Lore Studies to understand them (which Legion sometimes felt like it did). I’m not SUPER thrilled with some of the changes they made to Outlaw Rogue since I was away, but I’ve gotten used to it…mostly.

Then Shadowlands came out JUST after I finished up my rep grind to get flying in BFA, where I now no longer had any reason to be and to fly (okay that’s not true, because it came in very handy when I leveled my horde main through BFA later, but it’s how I felt at the time). I kinda liked the more railroaded leveling experience for a change because of the way the story elements were able to be tied together and flow into each other, and I appreciate the fact that once you’ve gone through it that way once you don’t have to do it again on your future characters. Usually when I’m leveling I end up wandering off and picking up !s wherever I see them, getting vastly off-track from where the game actually wants me to go (I basically wandered away from like, the third story quest you get in Kul Tiras and ended up doing Every Sidequest in Tiragarde Sound before wandering back to continue the ‘main’ story there and realizing some of the places it would have taken me were places I had already gone to). For Shadowlands, since it wanted to guide me into focusing on the storyline, I decided not to do that — Bastion still had a bunch of the map unexplored by the time I finished the story there, but instead of wandering off to see it all I just headed right to Maldraxxus so I could do the story while it was all fresh in my mind. Then after finishing that, I went back to the other zones to wrap up the extra sidequests and stuff I had missed the first time around. It was a different kind of experience from how I usually play but I liked it for a change. Not sure if I’d like to see it as the new style for every expansion going forward, but I thought it worked well for Shadowlands in particular and the story it wanted to tell.

I’ve now got both my mains set up in covenants and am working on developing those. Another friend who hadn’t played WoW since WoTLK also recently came back and we have been working on leveling new characters together. As someone who’s mostly only ever played one Main Character, with a Secondary Character to occasionally experience stuff on the opposite faction, it feels weird to suddenly have all these ideas for new alts I wanna make, and having to find time to do all the things I wanna do. Thankfully my friend extended my sub as a Christmas gift, so I feel less pressured to have to do EVERYTHING I want to do by the end of the month now that I’ve got more time.

Overall I’ve been having fun though, after having been away from the game for a while. I’m kind of a casual WoW player in general, preferring the questing experience to doing stuff like Dungeons and Raids with groups of strangers that are gonna be putting pressure on me and my gear and my performance, so MY enjoyable WoW experience is not going to be EVERYONE’S enjoyable WoW experience. I get the sense that BFA was not terribly popular, but I thought it was better than Legion (and I liked Legion when it was current content). I’m also not as concerned with choosing the optimal covenant for Maximum Performance, but more based on aesthetics and style and how they fit my characters, and I’d like to see how all their little stories play out on alt characters at some point (right now my rogue is Venthyr and my hunter is Kyrian). Plus there’s still leveling my lowbie druid with my friends, and other alts I wanna make at some point…and working on stuff like pet battling and archaeology on the side. Lots of stuff to do, but hopefully now I’ve got enough time to do it in, and can relax a bit.

2022 Addendum: This was all before the whole big Blizzard scandals came about. At the time me and my friends were having a blast playing Shadowlands content together almost every night. Then basically all at once we all kind of stopped playing. For one friend, it was entirely due to the controversy. For the other I think it was a combination of conflicted feelings and general burnout. I kept going for another month or two until my sub ran out, but I was hitting the burnout around that time as well, and not having them to play with made me lose my zeal to work on my alts and other things to hold my interest, so I just let it lapse. I’m not really sure what the future holds as far as playing WoW together again, now...maybe someday. I don’t think there’s even been a new expansion since Shadowlands yet, anyway (I don’t really keep up with WoW news at all when I’m not actively playing). It’s kind of crazy how much can change in such a short amount of time. I’ll still look back at that time we were playing together and having fun, though, even if our WoW playing days might potentially be over.

Grounded

My friends came to me and basically said, “we’re obsessed with a new survival crafting game, do you wanna play”, and I said “why yes, I do love a good survival crafting game”, and the next thing I knew I had become a little ant…

Grounded hits on all the usual trappings of the genre. You have a vague premise (in this case you’ve been shrunken down to insect size and forced to brave the dangers of the backyard, Honey I Shrunk The Kids style) but otherwise are on your own to fend for yourself against things that want to kill you, while managing your own hunger, thirst, and other needs, building increasingly more advanced shelters and braving deeper into the world to get higher-level crafting materials and march ever toward advancement.

What makes it fresh is the way the ‘theme’ of being shrunk in the backyard feels really well integrated into the world. Things like finding a discarded juice box or soda can with a little (large, to you) droplet of liquid you can drink or fill your canteen with to replenish your thirst, which you can absolutely imagine finding in a backyard where children play. The giant bird who sometimes flies by and perches on a nearby bit of distant scenery, massive enough to blot out the sun from your tiny view below. The koi pond essentially acting as the ‘ocean’ biome, filled with hostile aquatic creatures and the ever-present threat of drowning. The vaguely 1980’s aesthetic of it all. It just all feels really cohesive and helps you immerse yourself in the world.

The mechanics are also a bit more…dare I say, casual? More forgiving? Than some of these games tend to be. Your only needs are really hunger and thirst, and while you CAN sleep, you don’t have to…you can just keep working through the night every night if you want to, without rest. Buildings can clip into the terrain by default, so where you build is a bit more forgiving (some games could stand to learn a thing or two from this…looking at you, ARK). When you die, your corpse basically stays there forever, so there’s not a ton of pressure to race back to where you died to recover your stuff. For that matter, anything you drop seems to stay on the ground forever. These things might change if the game gets persistent servers down the line for performance reasons, but it can be kinda nice in a multiplayer game with friends.

I think my favorite thing is how the building system is LEGITIMATELY cooperative. In games like ARK or Conan Exiles, it’s like, you basically designate one person in your tribe to be The Builder, with everyone else just being your resource gathering monkeys. One person has the plans, the ideas, the visions for how to build the base…and it can be hard to communicate that without wires getting crossed, and that can be costly when these games usually don’t return all your resources spent when you demolish a structure. But the way Grounded does it, you’re basically not placing down structures in the world right away, but blueprints for them. Everyone can see them, even as you’re trying to position them. Then anyone can get the resources and actually turn that blueprint into a structure. And if you decide you don’t like it, or change your plan, you can just destroy the blueprint without sacrificing the resources on it. It feels a lot more like I’m working with a team when I see blueprints that my tribemate made, and I can just go get the resources to build it when I’m able. Really working together, just like real ants…for queen and colony…

Another thing I love and think needs to be default in ALL these games, ASAP, is the ability to color code and add a floating icon to all your chests and containers as an easy way of saying ‘this is what we store in this box’, without requiring signs or mods or just you having to memorize/check every chest every time. Seriously, survival games? Please take note.

All that said, it’s still early access, and there’s some bugs (heh) sometimes. We’ve had some semi-frequent random disconnections kicking us back to the main menu and forcing the host to re-invite us back. There are also not yet actual servers, so the multiplayer game saves just live on the host’s computer. Latency can be an issue if their internet is better or worse than yours, and lagspikes and rubber banding is a bit more frequent than I tend to feel it in games with dedicated servers. Some hitboxes are a little wonky sometimes, for both enemies and resources. And lots of other little stuff I’ve already forgotten, but nothing I’d consider really gamebreaking.

Overall pretty fun if you don’t mind some bugs, both literal and technical (though there IS an arachnophobia slider that can make the spiders into basically cartoony blobs, which I think is a pretty cool consideration in a game like this). It seems like the devs have a lot of big plans on the roadmap as well, and a friend who was playing around in God Mode stumbled upon a few areas labeled as UNDER CONSTRUCTION, so the map might be getting some extensions at some point too. If you ever felt like you just wanna zone out and go about some farming tasks like a diligent little ant…Grounded is your game.

2022 Addendum: Grounded’s officially out of Early Access at this point and there have been a lot of changes to the game in the time since I wrote this review, and updates have continued coming out pretty regularly even post-release, which is always good to see. I think the funniest thing about my review in hindsight is that I don’t know if I’d consider it ‘casual’ as much anymore because combat has become a bit more deep and challenging...we even had to bump our difficulty down in an ongoing save at one point because we were having a rough time. I think more or less all the changes have improved the game, though, which isn’t something you see every day in a game like this (at least in the two I’m most familiar with, ARK and Conan Exiles, where every update tends to be met with a choir of angry players (usually PVP people, I don’t go there) about how the devs broke everything and suck and should issue refunds and also die). But yeah idk, go check it out, it’s pretty fun to be a little ant sometimes.

#also i'm back i guess #maybe #sg2 plays video games #sg2's game reviews

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lokisasylum · 2 years

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Hey, I don’t know who to ask an opinion about this, but I’ve been a little confused about how certain fic writers have started heavily monetising their writing via patreon and selling physical copies and what not. Like obviously they can do what they want. I get that they have the amount of readers and their own fan follwing for their fics that it’s actually quite lucrative for them. And I write too so I understand the energy and time spent on it and the want for some compensation (I mean I get the kofi links and all). But still the idea of monetising my fanfics so heavily makes me feel uneasy and I don’t think I would ever do that. It’s mainly just a fun hobby for me even though I can sometimes spend full days writing. I guess it’s legally a bit of a grey area too. Though in a way it might not be that different from all the people selling their fan made merch and fan art, but it feels different. I don’t know, it just makes me feel uneasy, I can’t even really pinpoint why. Maybe it’s hypocritical of me to judge these writers since I write for the fandom too, or maybe I’m just jelous or something, lol, but Idk. It kind of takes some of the fun out of it to be honest, makes it into business instead of just a fun hobby as a fan. Even reading the fics from these more serious monetised writers feels different these days (for me at least). Kind of lost the taate for them in a way, which may sound harsh, but that’s just how it was for me. Obviously if you think this is too controversial to talk about then you can ignore this, but I thought I’d ask for an opinion.

I mean its as you said, it falls under that grey area along with Fanart of any kind. You are creating works derived entirely from Copyrighted material which you do not have permission to make money out of unless you want to be faced with a take-down notice or worse, a lawsuit .

And I've noticed this becoming a bigger issue on Twitter.

Fic writers and fanartists I used to follow now mostly ONLY create content "for their Patreons", ignoring that the vast majority of their followers cannot even afford such things. And some have even become arrogant and rude towards their followers for asking them to make non-patreon content once in awhile if they're gonna penalize patreons who share content with those who can't afford it.

The Fanfic issue is quite complicated because you CAN sell/publish your stories, just as long as you completely remove those details (names, some settings UNLESS its happening in the real world, certain concepts, ect) that may link your work to the pre-existing copyrighted one.

I mean look at 50 Shades of Grey, formerly a Twilight fic turned best-selling-"original"-novel-and-3-movie-trilogy-later.

(By the way, there's at-least 9 Twilight fanfics that were published as original novels).

City of Bones: Immortal Instruments, formerly a Harry Potter fic where the lead characters were Ginny/Draco. Became a popular 40something volume best seller, with a movie of its own and later on made into a series on Nerflix titled "Shadow Hunters".

I could go on and on about the many more fics & writers that have found and used this loophole in the system to monetize their works.

But trying to monetize a fanfic story AS IN kind of destroys the purpose of websites like AO3 which were created to PROTECT fanfic writers from lawsuits for simply sharing their stories (FOR FREE) as a means of entertainment.

I've seen TONS of people sell their fanart on places like Society6 & Redbubble, using #s and all from the series/fandoms they made it for and not only did nothing bad happened to them but they've made tons of sales (some just downright steal official content and photos to sell on these print-on-demand sites). While I've had 3 designs (originals made BY ME) reported with take-down notices and Copyright strikes FOR RESEMBLING something belonging to a series/fandom (even after writing an appeal and showing proof that those designs were made by me, I was still told NOT to re-upload them again or risk losing my account permanently).

So its always gonna be a game of r*ssian roulette with these topics.

#answered asks #fanfic #fanart #fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #anime fanfiction

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sir-elyan · 3 years

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#hi thisss is probably gonna be my last post that i make while i'm still 19?? its my bday tomorrow #thought i might immortalize some thoughts feel free to ignore them its #not spn #so. some birthdays arent going to be your best sometimes you're gonna cry and wonder whaaat the fuck is happening snd how you got where you #are in the blink of an eye. others might be better though and maybe waiting for those to unfold isnt half bad #and besides sometimes tears just need to be let out even if you dont know why exactly you're crying #especially if you havent cried in years or months or weeks or whatever #i do actually Feel it when i cry i think im probably the most present then #i dont know why im talking about being sad when lately ive been pretty happy!#i guess as an ode to a past me and maybe a future me too. who knows #but anyways if anyone is reading this cbsjjs its okay to cry. those days pass yknow. you forget about them eventually #or you at least dont feel it as much. but feeling it at all is the valuable part of the human experience i guess #okay idk what im talking about anymore but uhhh #surround yourself with good people <3 they care #and..bye teenage years!! you fucking sucked most of the time but you werent so bad. see you in another life 💗#rambles

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raggaraddy · 3 years

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hello if you want you can ignore this of course but I was wondering what would vampire Hoseok do if he found out someone turned oc? Your fics are amazing by the way!

Bitten to death

A/N: Thank you for your request :) It was fun to write. However I took it less as a reaction, and more of a story prompt. So it's not exactly a conclusive answer to your question. I hope you still like it, though ^-^ 💜💜💜

Summary: You thought you knew everything about Vampires but when you wake up one you learn there are some important things you did not know. And it's only going to let worse once you learn why you were turned.

Trigger Warnings: Blood, death, maiming, choking, violence, mind control, abduction, yandere themes.

Vampire! Hoseok

It was like a horror story within your already horrific story. Some man you've never met before broke into Hoseok's house when only you were there. While you screamed and fought and instinctively called for Hoseok, he covered you in bites unlike any other you had felt before. Ones that made you suffer as if fire was coursing through your veins. You wish that you could say you were strong enough that your fight had some kind of impact. But in truth, it was over after only a few seconds. And it was in those few seconds that you felt your chest burning and your breath fill your lungs for the last time.

Waking you're met by the stranger hovering above you. Your head aching and your body throbbing in ways you had never experienced before. With a quick glance, you can see everything around you, and that does mean everything. Every single little detail. And the information is overwhelming.

Your mind feels as if it's breaking from everything you're taking in. For as far as you can see there are pallets and long isles of shelves lined up, the contents on every rack crystal clear. You can hear the sound of his shoes on the concrete and the dirt gritting underneath, and how each peak of sound travels and bounces off the farthest point in the warehouse. Even the smells, there are hundreds of them all hitting you at once. A few you know like the fragrance of the treated wood or the oils stain, but others you couldn't guess at. It's as if all of your senses are on high and you have no way to focus them.

Despite your panic, no matter how much you want to run, you can't. Laying on your back with your arms spread out to either side of you and your legs held together, you're being bound by the thinnest most delicate length of silver chain. Though, it's not tied. It's only draped over you, but still holding you as if it were stronger than any steel. Burning you as if it were touched by the sun.

You may have only seen a few newly made vampires before, but you have still been around them enough and know enough about their existence to recognize how and why your body feels wrong. And absurdly you can't help but feel betrayed. This was not supposed to happen to you. It was the only safety you got from belonging to someone who was called The Immortal King, and The Origin of Cruelty. No one was supposed to be foolish enough to steal from him, and most importantly, no one was supposed to be able to hurt you. But now because Hobi didn't keep you safe, he's now lost his blood supply and you've lost your humanity.

The stranger snaps his fingers, the sound bursting in your eardrums making you groan and wince as he repeats it. "Focus your attention on just this one sound. On just the sight of my hand. Feel the air around it." He coaxes you, snapping again. The noise echos dozens of times, ricocheting off every wall. The dull thud of his fingertips hitting his palm only sounding the once though.

Opening your eyes your concentration goes to the hand held above your face as he said, the space around it blurring. On the back of his pointer finger on an otherwise porcelain complexion, you notice a small patch of dry skin just below his knuckle. Clear blue-black defined veins wrapping the back of his palm. He clicks his fingers again and you catch the sound of friction from the way his finger rubs down his thumb, feeling the most minuscule shift in the air created by his motion.

The pinpointed attention helps for a moment, but then you shift your eyes to his face and the explosion of information overpowers you again. His hold comes around your neck keeping your head from turning. The tight pressure on your throat while stifling your movement, nearly makes you smile. There's no airflow to restrict. Your chest isn't heating, your body isn't convulsing trying to breathe. Even in this tense moment, you can't help but find it humorous, thinking how many times over the years had you wished for this exact thing when Hobi had squeezed the air from you.

"Watch my eyes," on his words your vision becomes immersed in them. They're piercing blue. Made up of streaks of white interlacing with a clear sapphire shade, like thousands of threads made out of the purest tropical ocean. A transparent irregular line encircling his pupil, and beyond that every distinct strand blurs together with the others until it reaches the shadowed grey edge that holds the circular shape. Slowly his jet black pupils dilate, stretching and filling his entire iris till every trace of colour is removed. As if transfixed, you're unable to close your own eyes, a flooding of bright light filling your field of view. The strength of it is so intense that the tendons in your sockets ache and your eyes begin to water. Tears rolling down the sides of your face, cresting in your ears.

"Apologies, you are only my second." He confuses you with a vague explanation you did not ask for. The black finally receding into its natural size. Your own eyes scrunching as you try to blink away the soreness. The bizarre occurrence leaving you feeling drained of strength, filling you with anxiety caused by the uncertainty, which is only worsened by the glimmer of triumph in his gaze.

Searching past him to the ceiling your brain is again processing the whole image instead of the sum of its parts. The strain in your head slowly fading, your tight held muscles releasing as everything begins to normalize. You don't know what he did, but it seemed to help.

He doesn't back away, continuing to invade your personal space. Although, the way his fingers are trailing along your skin while you're restrained on the floor is still not the worst thing he has done to you. Seeing as he killed you.

"I had almost given up hope that Jung Hoseok would love." His hand daintily caresses along your neck and up your jaw. Your eyes shutting as his fingertips run over your lips. "I began to fear it might not be something possible for him." He divulges, his touch still aimlessly wandering.

The way he speaks you can feel his vailed anger. Despite his soft words, this is not someone who cares about Hoseok's wellbeing, this is someone who hates him deeply.

"However, you restored my lost faith. And for that, I would like to thank you, Inamorata."

He thinks Hoseok loves you? Is he crazy?. He's possessive of you, that is all. Even in moments of deception or weakness when you had told him that you loved him, he's never said it back with any sincerity. And he has never said it of his own accord.

"Sir," your eyes reopen. "I think you've misunderstood. These," you weakly gesture to the silver, each slight movement searing the links deeper into your flesh. "aren't necessary. We are on the same side. I hate Hobi, more than anyone."

"Truly?" He asks tilting his head to the side. His white hair messily hanging across his forehead.

"Yes," you nod trying to insist your point. "He's kept me locked up for years." you chuckle dryly. Finding it nearly risible that all of this is because this man believes in a fantasy.

"Well then, you are free to rise," he nods resolutely. Plucking the chains out of your melted skin as you grit your teeth. The sound of the sizzle on his own skin baffling you as to how he can even lift them.

Sitting up you gently pull your limbs in, inspecting the blistered and bloody marks. The skin on your wrists already starting to intricately knit itself back together.

"Come here." The stranger calls from a rested place on one of the pallets to your right.

Standing, it is a bit hard to walk with your ankles still cut up but you make it to him decently. Looking around you, you can see the sun streaming in from the high windows that line the whole length of the warehouse. It's enough to light up the otherwise dark space, but with the sheer size of this place, the beams of sunlight do not get close to the two of you in the centre. Still in the middle of the day, it means Hobi can't get to you. Not easily at least. So you're on your own for now.

"Kneel." He instructs plainly. And you follow, lowering onto your knees in front of him. Your only thoughts are of escape. You may be in your first minutes as a vampire, but it should be simple to move quickly. It always seemed like something that came easily to them. "Inamorata, you will call me Master." he declares abruptly.

"Yes, Master." You smile confusedly. Inamorata? Why does he keep calling you that? You're unsure if it's a name or a title, but it's weirding you out.

Your face drops, your heart thumping, realizing what you said. The words you just spoke replaying in your head. You hadn't meant to say that.

Why did you say that?

In fact, why had you knelt? Why were you doing what he said at all?

With a gaped mouth you climb back to your feet. "Look, I think-um." You start not knowing what you want to say.

"Kneel." He orders again more forcefully yet with a knowing, jovial smirk. You shake your head hard, staying upright. You're not going to let him order you around. He has to be kidding.

Your brows furrow, your mouth drops open, and your forehead tightens as your knees bend against your wishes. You drop back into your knelt position. Grunting as your jaw clenches, your fingers digging into your legs, doing your best to resist without success.

Your eyes go wide in shock.

"Good. Now stay there," his voice makes your stomach drop. But your muscles relax, your shoulders dropping and your bottom lowering on your calves. Your body resting in this position.

This is nothing you have ever seen before. It's nothing that you knew was possible. It shouldn't be possible. On top of all the horrible advantages they already have, you're sure you would have known if mind control was one of them!

"How?" You gape, shaking your head in disbelief. "Why?"

"Why?" a smile fills his face, "What you have told me is far different than what I had heard." He stands and turns, tapping his foot against the top pallet sending it and its boxed contents flying. He grabs at the bottom slats of wood underneath and drags them closer to you with a horrid screeching on the concrete. Sitting back down he is now much lower and much nearer to you. So much so that his legs spread straight out on either side of you. "See, I had heard stories of the self-proclaimed King of Vampires, who had fallen in love with his human pet. That he kept her close, kept her safe, and drank from her exclusively."

"That's not love." you interrupt with a scoff, "That's imprisonment."

"Well, let us see what the truth is. Tell me honestly, Jung Hoseok's little Inamorata, do you love him?"

"Yes." You're mouth answers before your mind has time to think. "No!" you instantly correct.

The smile grows larger on his face "And what do you feel about him?"

"I'm scared of him. But I care for him." The words are pouring out of you uncontrollably, your face placifying as you speak. "and I miss him when he isn't home."

"And does he love you?"

"I think so, yes." You wish you could make yourself shut up! Your calm tone drops and you bite your jaw trying to take back your own body, growling as you do. "No! He doesn't." you snarl in a rapid shift.

"You think so? Then my last question; Do you want him to love you?" He asks satirically.

"Yes," The word slips out. Being accepted joyously from him. "You can't just make me say anything you want!" you shout. Your body is rigid and stiff as you think to stand with nothing happening.

"I did not," he chuckles, "I made you say what you believe is true."

"No, you didn't! Tha-" his finger raises to his lips shushing you, cutting you off like your voice had disappeared.

That is not how you feel! Hobi may have gotten better as time has gone on, but he is still cruel and malicious and heartless. The only thing this man is doing is speaking to your primal brain. The part of you that gave into its survival instinct and it's the part that you fight every day to repress so that you stay in control. You can't love him, it's not possible.

"Ha, you are far more amenable than my last. I can hardly feel any resistance." He mocks, tapping his temple. "And I recall Jung Hoseok trying to move heaven and earth to break free. Even Mansueto struggled to contain him. But you," he reaches down holding out his hand and you follow his gesture, your body moving independently to accept it. "You are a broken little thing."

You don't understand his ridicule. You're not moving consciously. Your own mind isn't connected to your actions. So you can't fathom how your body is even reacting, let alone how you should be able to fight it.

"Stop." You complain, your voice coming out with far less strength than you had intended. "Look, Hoseok doesn't have my blood anymore, okay. So just leave me out of whatever fucked up feud you have you have going with him."

"No, that is not enough." his tone becomes suddenly harsh. He lifts his hand and you stand as he raises it. "He stole someone precious to me and he must feel the same agony of loss."

"You're wrong." you swallow, working to overcome your nerves, "I'm sorry, but you just are. He doesn't love me. I'm not precious." You try to reason, seeing your pleas falling on an unreceptive man.

"We will see."

The sun has barely set before you hear commotion beyond the metal walls.

You had tried over and over to pry information from this man, to convince him to let you leave. But you were unable to gather so much as a name from him, and clearly, you failed to be let go. After a certain point of ignoring you, he stopped you from speaking altogether. Not allowing you to say a word until he permits it. More than that though, he filled your head with many instructions. Telling you how to behave in anticipation of Hoseok's arrival.

100 meters in front of you the locked doors are ripped off their hinges, a dozen men and women pouring into the warehouse with inhuman speed. But as if time slows down your eyes adjust and you can see them, see their movements with full clarity. Hoseok comes in last and straight down the middle into the open square that you all occupy. And you must admit, you are genuinely happy to see him. Now you just want him to hurry up and get you out of here.

The man steps forward to meet them while you are sat on the stack of pallets behind him. Your only instruction at this time is to sit quietly and wait for him to call you. Hating the feeling of being restrained by your own body.

Watching them all lineup versus a single man, you find it comical how outmatched he is.

Hobi always said that when he got tired of playing with your human body, he was going to turn you. And he was furious if anyone robbed him of even your smallest reactions, so clearly, he was going to be beyond pissed that someone sped up his plan, and took your death away from him.

"That's mine," Hoseok puffs up his chest, looking past the man's shoulder to you.

The only thing that's confusing you, though, is if this man knows who The Vampire King is, why he didn't expect to be met with hell on earth, and why he didn't prepare better.

"Jung Hoseok, always so impolite. Do you not think you should greet an old friend after so many years?"

"We can talk all you like, Kol," Hoseok snarls, finally giving a name to your killer. "Once I get my property back."

"I think you'll find this is my belonging now." he chuckles in a brief pause. Hoseok's expression darkens, his eyes becoming murderous. The fury around him actually making you shiver. "Do you like the modifications I made? She is much more durable now."

Supposedly, Hobi's already noticed your change, because he doesn't look at you again. Instead, the two men have an intense staredown. All of the vampires on his side looking ready to kill on a word.

"And far more obedient. Come here," Kol calls you, holding his hand out at shoulder height for you to take. Moving automatically, you jump down from the stack of wooden pallets placing your fingers on his palm.

Unable to stand the rage on Hoseok's face you look down, just missing the exact moment he charges. But you see an instant later as he is thrown back like a paper doll into four stories of shelves, his weight bringing the metal, the shelves, and the products down on top of him as the whole structure collapses. His men looking as startled as you to see Hoseok so easily discarded.

Before the toppling construction settles, Kol breaks from your side and an incredible, horrible scene breaks out. His speed is something you can't follow, even now. You only see the trail of destruction when he stops. One after the other, he made his way through half of the vampires, ripping them apart. Literally tearing some in two halves. Decorating the square with blood and innards.

The others are as belated and overwhelmed as you, only just having the sense to react as his blurred image stops. When he advances again, this time he doesn't use his quickness for an advantage and simply ploughs through them. They attack all at once, and still as they grab and strike at him, their forces barely move him. And his response is terrifying.

You can only bear to watch the first one. Kol's fist driving through a woman's chest, the horrid cracking of her ribs as he tears it back out making you want to scream. But his orders have you completely silent. Instead, you close your eyes, sealing your hands over your ears. Trying to block out the violent sickening sounds of his destructive rampage.

There's a last thud before it falls quiet again. Your eyes springing open to see as horrific of a sight as you had imagined. He's dripping in blood. Drenched in it. And Hoseok's people are strewn in every which way. Not a single one having survived.

Sauntering through the sea of dead bodies, he makes his way to the side where Hoseok is unmoved, tossing away the beams and panels as if they were nothing. Grabbing him by the ankle, he drags him from the rubble into the clear space in front of you. The man you once thought of as the most powerful in existence, and his troupe of vampires, was completely demolished in mere seconds of work. And you can only watch on with your body shaking. Your hopes of rescue decimated. Your chest aching with worry, even for Hobi's sake.

"Now that it's a more intimate number of us, should we talk?" Kol releases him, brushing past you as he sits where you had before. His action triggering an instruction he provided earlier, forcing you to follow him and kneel at his feet.

Sitting up, Hoseok rubs the back of his hand against a large gash under his eye. The ferocity not having left his mannerisms. "You disappear for 90 years, and you show up to what, gimmie a blood bath." His laugh falls into a grimace as he stands himself back up.

"I was created in the 13th century and you brought infants to a fight with me. What did you think would happen?" Kol asks scornfully.

"I was hoping they would do a little better," He smirks, shrugging off their deaths. "Okay, that's my bad. But still, that doesn't tell me what you want. Or did you just want to remind me that you're still alive?" He taunts, his sardonic nature returning, "Remind me that you're still pissed and you can kick my ass. Good job. You put on quite a show." he smiles, his tongue running over his fangs as he gestures around at the gruesome display. "But she," he points to you with two fingers, bitterness lacing his next words, "is worth nothing to you."

"Oh, she is worth everything to me," Kol slides forward, his hand brushing down the back of your neck, "because she is worth everything to you."

On those words, you get the most heart-wrenching sight. A pang of insecurity shows up in Hoseok's eyes. Uncertainty and something so close to fear. The smile fading as he looks him up and down.

"I am curious, though, Vampire King, do you think she will detest the Sire bond as greatly as you did?" he punctuates the question, tugging your head back by your hair. "If I treat her as Mansueto treated you, how long do think until she breaks?"

With immense speed, Hoseok splinters one of the wooden crates near him, lunging at Kol, aiming to drive the shard into his heart with a roar. But he's caught before his hand ever plunges forward. Instead, Kol takes the sharp wood and spikes it into Hoseok's stomach. Continuing to dominate him with a solid blow, knocking him off his feet, smacking him into the concrete in front of you. Stepping down, he swings his foot punting Hoseok in the chest hurling him back among the remains of his fallen creations.

You had thought if you ever saw Hobi being handled as roughly as he treated you, that you would enjoy the Karma of it. But seeing him so easily immobilized is making you sick with fear and mostly sadness.

With Kol having stood, you're no longer bound on your knees and you scramble to your feet. You want to run to Hoseok's side but before you have the chance Kol drags you into him, his hand wrapped around your waist, his other crudely brushing the hair from off the side of your face.

"Call out to him. Tell him your every feeling." He hushes the order in your ear.

"Hobi!" you yell, not sure you would have even needed to be compelled to want to shout for him. "Get up, please. I'm scared. I wanna go home!"

"Go to him," Kol releases you and you sprint to his side, hardly able to slow your sudden frantic speed.

Doubled over Hoseok is bleeding profusely. He needs your blood- but you can't do that anymore. And you have no idea what to do. You don't know how to help him or how to get out of here. He's the one that is supposed to keep you safe.

Coming from behind you, Kol bends down shoving you out of the way to lift Hoseok by the throat. "Stop!" you follow their movement, hanging on Kol's arm. "Stop! Please." But you have no effect. Instead, he jerks the wood dagger out making Hobi yell in pain.

"Do you recall what you said as you killed our Sire?" Kol whispers maliciously. "You told me that 'I will get over it'." Releasing him, he lets Hoseok plummet to the floor and you drop with him trying to catch his weight. "In 100 years from now, I'll let you see her again and you can tell me if you were able to take your own advice." he smiles spitefully.

"Hobi," you whine lowly. Brushing his hair from his sweat and blood wet forehead. "I don't want to go with him. Rather the devil you know, right," you softly chuckle, trying to pull his energy back.

Even though you know the both of you have no chance at the moment, you guess you're just looking for an affirmation that he isn't going to let you go and let this other man keep you for the next century.

"Please," you whisper, your waterline filling with tears.

Reaching towards you, Hoseok's hand constricts around your throat, pulling you into him like he has countless times before.

"You're mine," he growls through pained grunts. His anger lessened, distress replacing it. But he gives you the answer he could see you searching for.

"Yes," you nod subtly. Closing your eyes as you lean further into his hold.

"Get up," Kol orders, interrupting you.

Despite his tightening grip, you pull away from Hobi, standing as you were told. The elder vampire taking your arm leads you away through the bodies to the open doorway.

"Say goodbye Jung Hoseok," Kol calls back, leaving him injured and alone, making you wish more than ever that you could pull back. "And do not worry, I'll take very good care of her for you."

#bts #yandere #jung hoseok #j hope bts #yandere hoseok #yandere hobi #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts scenarios #bts fan fiction #bts requests #bts reactions #vampire! jhope #vampire! bts #bangtan reaction #bangtan fanfic

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Targets - ao3

- Chapter 3 -

Meng Yao wasn’t supposed to be for sale.

His mother had worked hard her whole life to make sure of it, refusing every offer for him no matter how tempting or how desperate their situation. He was a cultivator’s son, she told him, a sect leader’s; one day, he would return to his father’s side, and if he was going to do that, he couldn’t have his past be marred with scandal. He couldn’t have a slave contract, and he couldn’t have done any work as a whore – it was one thing to do odd jobs in a brothel, but another thing entirely to actually work on your back, and somehow, somehow, someone would find out, and he’d be ruined. They would know.

The only way for him to really make it is if he never did anything like that at all.

So when the cultivator – a real cultivator, from the looks of him, not one of the fakers they often got – walked into their brothel and asked for Meng Yao, his mother said no.

The man frowned, then turned to the owner of the brothel who shrugged, indicating that he was helpless. “The boy doesn’t belong to this establishment,” he said apologetically. “But if the venerated Immortal would prefer something more boyish, I can direct you to some of our more masculine girls, or to a neighboring establishment…”

His voice trailed off when the cultivator pulled out a large chunk of gold, about half the size of Meng Yao’s thumb.

“You can keep it all – if I get the boy, a room, and your word to tell no one else that either of us are here,” the man said.

“No!” Meng Shi exclaimed, but Meng Yao knew from the look on the brothel owner’s eyes that it was too late. This wasn’t a good brothel like the one they’d been in before – the one that had kicked them out when they decided his mother was too old and her health too poor – but a lower tier one, less rich and more desperate. A piece of gold like that was more money than all the girls put together would make in a year.

If they continued to refuse, the owner of the brothel would use force. There were the bully boys at the door – they would grab his mother and drag her away, grab him and throw him into the room, maybe tie him down, rob him of any ability to defend himself…

So Meng Yao put his hand on his mother’s arm. “It’s fine, Mother,” he said to her, hoping to offer comfort where there was none to be had, and then forced himself to smile at the cultivator. “How can this humble one best please the venerated Immortal?”

The man’s eyes flickered between them, and his frown deepened.

“The woman comes with us, same deal,” he told the owner, who nodded, eyes fixed on the gold, and never mind that both Meng Yao and his mother had now frozen in horror. There were women in the brothel who sometimes pretended to be sisters and might even be, it was a popular request by clients, but – his mother… “All right, where’s the room?”

“I’ll give you the best one in the house,” the owner said, tone fawning, and showed them the way.

By the time they were upstairs, Meng Yao was shaking like a leaf and his mother looked on the verge of weeping.

The moment the cultivator closed the door behind them, shooing the owner away, she threw herself onto the floor in front of him. “Venerated Immortal,” she said, begging, and Meng Yao averted his eyes, feeling rage build in the pit of his stomach. “Spare my son, please. I will do anything you wish –”

“You misunderstand,” the cultivator said stiffly. “Your son is safe – as are you. I’m not here for that sort of thing…boy, get her off the floor and seated somewhere, get her something to drink to calm her.”

Meng Yao got his mother into a chair, pressing some wine usually reserved for clients into her hand. By the time he was done with that, he was more puzzled than anything else, even the rage at his mother’s mistreatment fading away into confusion. “What does the venerated Immortal want?” he asked delicately, and the cultivator shrugged.

“I actually have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said frankly. “I received a message from my sect leader that told me to find and secure a ‘Meng Yao, son of Meng Shi’ from Yunping City, and when I asked around it led me to you. I was hoping you could tell me the reason.”

“Your sect leader asked for me?” Meng Yao asked blankly. “By name?”

Could it be – his mother had always said –

“You’re not from Lanling,” his mother said, wiping her eyes, expression back to fierce and calculating. “My boy is the son of the sect leader of Lanling Jin, not…”

She trailed off deliberately.

“Qinghe Nie,” the cultivator said automatically, and even folded his hands in front of him to salute – perfunctorily, but still more than most would bother with for a whore. “The message said only that you were in danger, and that I was to hide you until the sect leader could come pick you up himself.”

So it wasn’t his father, Meng Yao thought, disappointed, but still – a sect leader of a cultivation sect, knowing him by name? Sending a message from far away?

He had no idea what to think of it.

And so they waited, each one sitting awkwardly in their own place, as several shichen passed. It was already evening when there was a knock – at the window.

The window on the third floor.

The cultivator got up and opened it, and a large fierce-looking man carrying three children – one on each hip with an arm around them, and another seated on his shoulders, clutching to his hair like reins – wiggled his way through, shaking all the children off as if his arms were hurting the second his feet were on the ground.

“Is that him?” he asked, nodding at Meng Yao, and the cultivator nodded. “He’s young.”

“Thirteen,” Meng Yao said, and noted that it was probably older than any of the three children who were looking at him in fascination.

“One of Sect Leader Jin’s bastards, Sect Leader,” the cultivator reported, and Meng Yao felt something fall in the pit of his belly at the term one of. There were many like him, then – perhaps his mother’s optimism regarding his reception in Lanling City was as misplaced as her optimism in buying all those pointless cultivation manuals that he slaved over and which accomplished nothing.

“Well, that can’t be the reason, then, or the list would be thrice as long,” the sect leader said, frowning. “I’d even started wondering…no, it still makes no sense. Regardless, no point in waiting around here any longer – I saw two Wen patrols making their way through the city as I flew in, and I have no doubt they’ll find this place soon. We should be gone before they do.”

“If this humble one can ask, what is the honorable Sect Leader’s plans for my son?” Meng Shi asked, ducking her head demurely and looking up at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes, even as she leaned forward a little in a way that set off her shape to its best advantage.

“Oh no,” the sect leader said, and took two full steps backwards. Without the fierce expression on his face, he looked much younger – in fact, Meng Yao thought with wonder and maybe even a little disbelieving amusement, it seemed like this sect leader was most certainly still a teenager, and awkward with it, too. “No, I – I don’t – Gao Jianguo, do something!”

“She’s a whore, Sect Leader,” the cultivator said, rolling his eyes. “They flirt. It happens.”

The sect leader was bright red. The children were all giggling.

“Madame,” he said, bowing to her – an actual bow, respectful, not even the perfunctory dip the cultivator had given earlier, and he didn’t have to call her Madame, either. “Forgive me, I’m not…I don’t have much experience with women. My name is Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Qinghe Nie. I have reason to believe your son is in terrible danger if he remains here, and I intend to take him with me to a safe location.”

“What assurances do I have of his safety?” Meng Shi asked, and Meng Yao knew then that she intended to send him whether he wanted to go or not.

Not that he didn’t intend to go. Such an earnest sect leader, this ‘Nie Mingjue’…even if it was all a mistake or misunderstanding, which had to be what had happened, there were benefits that could be gotten here. If Meng Yao could become a servant there, learn cultivation, he could maybe save up enough to later go to his father’s side – no matter what they asked of him, it would be better than a brothel, especially one where the owner had already seen an indication of Meng Yao’s worth as chattel.

And yet…

“You have my word,” Nie Mingjue assured her.

“I won’t leave without her,” Meng Yao suddenly spoke up, and ignored his mother’s glare. He didn’t want to leave her here. He wouldn’t, not unless he was forced, which seemed likely, but he had to try his best. “If I’m in danger, then so is she. They might want to use her to lure me in.”

“That’s a good point,” Nie Mingjue said, which Meng Yao wasn’t expecting. He even nodded in approval at Meng Yao. “Very well, we’ll take you both with us. Gao Jianguo –”

“The amount I’ve already paid would be sufficient to cover any slave bond,” the cultivator said. His frown suggested he wasn’t happy about his sect leader’s actions. “There will be paperwork –”

“Only for me,” Meng Shi said quickly. “My son is free, and always has been.”

Nie Mingjue looked out the window, clearly calculating – two patrols, Meng Yao thought, this sect leader thought someone was hunting him down for some unknown reason – and then glanced at the two of them. He sighed a little, almost imperceptibly, before firming up his expression once more.

“Take Meng Shi and buy her bond,” he instructed the cultivator. “Collect anything she wants to take with her and take her back to Qinghe through safe routes. I’ll take Meng Yao with me and we’ll meet there.”

“What should I do with the ownership papers? There’s a tax for taking slaves out of the county, and people might notice –”

“Burn them,” Nie Mingjue said, and Meng Yao’s heart gave a sudden thrill of delight. “She can travel as a free woman. Make sure she sees a doctor, if she thinks she would benefit from seeing one, and cover the cost – I want her to arrive at the Unclean Realm alive and well.”

Alive and well, Meng Yao thought, even more delighted. That was a warning, no doubt about it – telling the cultivator not to take advantage of Meng Shi during his trip. And a doctor! With his sect leader ordering it, the cultivator would have to take her to a good one, not some phony sawbones, and she could finally get that cough of hers looked at…

Meng Yao would do whatever this sect leader wanted. Just for that.

(It was more than his father had ever done for them.)

“Can you handle flying with four boys?” the cultivator asked, frowning, and – flying? “Especially if you already came all the way from Qinghe, and through Yunmeng, you must be exhausted –”

“I’ll be fine,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “He’s thirteen; he can stand on his own and hold onto me, arms around my waist, while I hold on to the others…hey, are you afraid of heights?”

That question was directed at Meng Yao.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, aiming for honest. It seemed to be what this sect leader appreciated, and Meng Yao was good at figuring out and catering to people’s likes. He’d have to exert himself especially this time. “But I’ve never gone higher than the fourth floor.”

“Well, you’re about to,” Nie Mingjue said, and his saber unsheathed itself and floated on the floor. “All right, everyone back on – you can introduce yourself in the air. We still have to make the ride back to the Lotus Pier, and I’m sure your parents are worried sick already, Jiang-gongzi.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #meng shi #my fic #my fics #targets

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tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

King for a day

I apologise for the horrible title...

Rowaelin month - day 19

It was a nice autumn day and the castle still lay quiet. It was still early and most of its occupants were still in bed.

In the royal chambers Rowan’s eyes popped open and in that instant he sensed the distress in the person sleeping at his side. His fae senses alerted him through the bond that there was something wrong with his mate. She lay curled in a foetal position, her hands clutching her stomach.

“Fireheart?” His voice thick with fear. Was it a nightmare? Was she ill?

It had been three years since the war had been over but the healing process for all of them was taking much longer than expected and he knew that Aelin some night still woke in the grips of panic and the horrible feeling of still being in that damned coffin. And in those nights all he could do was to hold his mate in his arms and let her know she was safe, and free and that he was at her side. It broke his old immortal heart.

“Aelin?” He called again, pulling her to his chest and as of on instinct she buried her face against his chest “are you okay?”

She whimpered and Rowan almost screamed. He could not bear to have her in pain. His lips peppered her forehead with kisses “what is it?”

“Cycle.” Was all she said and Rowan knew. Since her transformation into full fae her body had been changing as well and adopted all the traits of the race. He had learned that her cycles were not regular and when they happened, Aelin would be in extreme pain for days. She had also inherited the difficulty for fae to procreate. They had decided to try and have a family for over a year now but it has been proving very hard and he could not stand the hurt in Aelin’s face when it failed once again.

It would happen, he kept telling her, the last piece to that happiness they had been trying to find since after the horrors of the war. He had dreamed it, their family, they just needed patience.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to call the healer?”

She shook her head and snuggled closer and Rowan tightened his hold “I guess I can play king consort for a day and deal with politics.” Aelin looked up at him.

“You hate that stuff.”

A gentle kiss “I do, that’s why you are queen and I am just the pretty male at your side,” he joked “but I guess that for a day I can deal with Darrow and the council men.”

“I am the queen,” she said with a tired voice, forcing herself to a sit position “I can’t stay in bed all day. I have a duty.”

“Aelin,” his strong hand brushed a strand of hair from her face “even the queen needs a day off when she is not well.”

Once they had started working on their kingdom they had reached the agreement that she was the one dealing with the political side. Rowan had preferred to throw himself into physical labour admitting that helping rebuild was more into his chords than dealing with courtly bullshit. Aelin had joked that he just hated to dress up for court.

She tried once more to protest but Rowan was in full fuss mode and pushed her back down in bed. He grabbed the thick blankets and covered her “now you stay here. I will go to the healer and ask for your tonic.”

Aelin watched him stand and leave their chamber and as soon as he left she ducked under the blankets ignoring the pain spreading through her lower body.

Rowan came back ten minutes later and found her hiding under the blankets. He pulled them back and helped Aelin to sit up “Drink. The healer assured me this will help.”

She took the goblet and drank under his watchful eye and once she was done Rowan grabbed the empty goblet and pushed her back down “now you rest and sleep. Would you like a book?”

Aelin shook her head. She was not feeling well enough to concentrate on a book.

“Or we could just cancel the council for a day and you could stay in bed with your wife all day, keeping me company and holding me in those strong arms of yours.”

Rowan flicked her nose “we can’t do that.”

“Not even if it’s your queen who orders it?” She looked at him hopeful that she had hit the right spot that convinced him to dismiss court duty and stay with her. She appealed at his male duty to look after his mate and a glimmer of hope flickered into her when for a brief instant he seemed to consider it.

“For as much as it pains me to leave you alone when you are distressed, alas, I am the king consort, which means that is my duty to deal with politics when you can’t.”

Aelin huffed disappointed “at least bring me chocolate when you come back from your duties.”

“As my queen commands.” He leaned over to kiss her deeply and pushed her once more under the blanket and then pulled away to get changed for his boring and long day with the council.

Ten minutes later he was pushing open the heavy doors of the council room all dressed up in his best tunic, breeches and polished boots.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” He greeted as he sat at the head of the table where Aelin would usually sit.

“Your majesty.” Said Darrow, bowing his head in salute. Rowan hated to be addressed so formally, hated all the frills of court. He was a warrior, he was used to a much simpler way of life. But being married to the queen had that unpleasant downside. But for her he’d do anything. Even deal with people who still looked at him as a brute with no right to claim the title of king consort.

“My queen has asked me to convey her deepest apologies. She is currently indisposed and had asked me to attend to her duties for the day. I hope the lords here present will not be offended to deal with such a brute like me.” A smirk spread on his face. Let them know that he knew exactly what they thought about him.

“We are sorry to hear about her majesty’s being unwell. We wish her a speedy recovery.” Replied Darrow ignoring the jab about having to deal with him.

“So,” he started grabbing some documents. He might not actively deal with politics, but he knew exactly what Aelin was doing. She would discuss her plans with him and update him after every council session.

“The first item on the agenda is the requests from the merchants guild…”

It was far too many hours later when he was free once again. Once out of the room he unclasped the first three buttons of his tunic and felt like he could breath once again. Quickly he ran back to their chambers. The bond had been quiet and he felt little distress from Aelin meaning that the tonic had effect. Leaving her alone had gone against every single one of his male instincts but he had responsibilities and their kingdom mattered a lot to both. So he put his male fussiness aside and just went on with the day job.

Once back in the royal chamber he found Aelin deeply asleep and the worry in his chest loosened a bit. He quickly got changed in a more comfortable attire and then slipped in bed with her, pulling her body to his chest.

As soon as she was in his arms Aelin awoke and gave him a sleepy smile.

“My dutiful king is back,” she said in a tired voice.

“Yes, and Darrow is unpleasant as always.”

Aelin gave him a low chuckle.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as his hand gently massaged her lower back.

“Now that you are back, much better.” Her face disappeared in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of pine and snow that was so him.

“Did you sleep the whole time?”

Aelin nodded.

“Good.”

“Did you bring me chocolate?”

Rowan chuckled and stood to go to his desk and grabbed something. A moment later he joined her back in bed with a box of her favourite chocolates.

“Such a dutiful king.”

Rowan sat with his back against the head of the bed and pulled Aelin against him in a semi sit position as she ate some of the chocolate delicacies in the box.

“Nothing like eating chocolate in your mate’s arms on a sick day.”

Rowan chuckled and tucked her head under his chin “just don’t eat too many or you’ll find yourself with a different kind of stomachache.” He took the box from her hands and pulled the blanket up to cover them both.

“I am here now,” he whispered against her hair while his arms surrounded her “sleep a bit more.”

A few minutes later Aelin was asleep once more and he relaxed.

She was his life. His everything.

And for her he’d even sit in endless meetings.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowanwhitethorn #aelin galathynius #Throne of Glass series

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katzkinder · 3 years

Text

Strawberry Madeleine

Tsurugi used to use Mikuni’s old uniform as pajamas.

He’s aware of how pathetic it is. How it sounds. How it probably would have been more subtle to shout that he missed him through a megaphone, for all of Tokyo to hear.

Of course, it doesn’t smell like his old roommate anymore. It hasn’t for a long time, especially not after having been washed and given to Mahiru to run around in for a whole week, over a year ago now. Especially not after it needed to be bleached, and deep cleaned, because of all the blood and dirt and dust that had been practically ground into the white fibers.

Frankly, it’s a miracle that old thing is still around.

He never expected to get it back, but he did, and he’s only a little ashamed to admit that he held it the same way someone would hold a cherished stuffed toy, inhaling the smell of fabric softener chosen with Kuro’s delicate skin in mind. He had called himself creepy, and Yumikage… Had flicked his forehead. Called him an idiot.

The way he had explained it, it made such perfect sense.

Mikuni... Was a familiar pain, like a bruise that never quite faded and you press your fingers to it just to remind yourself you’ve been hurt.

Yumikage, Junichiro, Freya, Mahiru, and Kuro are a comfort he never thought he deserved, and that old uniform, one of the only few possessions of his that had survived, the new softness of it and the new smell, are proof that whether he deserves them or not… They are his.

Anyone would cherish that, wouldn’t they?

***

One day his phone lights up in the evening twilight.

“I made too much. That offer to join us for dinner is still valid ☀︎”

Attached is a picture of a simmering pot of curry that makes his mouth water so much he nearly drools all down his front. There’s something familiar about it he can’t quite place, but it’s easily ignored and Tsurugi wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, thumbs flying eagerly over the screen.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes ☆” he replies, then, after adjusting his course accordingly, practically skips off down the sidewalk.

Two minutes from his destination, his phone buzzes again.

“I left the door unlocked for you. Come right in!”

Tsurugi... Tries really hard not to cry in the middle of the street as words half remembered while his soul was tangled with Mahiru’s filter back to him.

If the window is shut, we'll just go through the door.

***

Sometimes Tsurugi goes to Mahiru’s house to play.

It’s a childish way to put it, like they’re both in elementary school and he’s showing up at the front door to ask his friend’s uncle if Mahiru is home, but it’s also the only proper way to describe it, because he is playing.

He’s free now, or about as free as he can be with those debts looming over his head, and he wants to play. Kuro, meanwhile, wants to show him lots of different games, so if he has a day off, and the both of them are available… To the Shirota apartment he goes.

It’s always a mess.

Not the apartment, no, never the apartment. He doesn’t think even C3, with its white walls and white floors and white sheets and everything, everything, white, was even half so clean as that little apartment where three people lived.

What’s always a mess is himself.

This time, though… It’s Mahiru.

***

Tsurugi knows he’s a messy person. Tsurugi knows he’s not very good at cleaning up, though he often tries. It’s overwhelming though, sometimes, looking at it all, all the trash and garbage that had accumulated, all the things he didn’t need anymore, didn’t want, and maybe part of the problem was that his mind hardly ever stayed “adult” long enough to make any real headway.

It’s not like anyone went into his room to begin with, anyway, so why bother?

Mahiru, though, is different from him. Mahiru likes to clean up as he goes, so he supposes it shouldn’t be a shock that he gets frustrated with him and with Kuro, who have their little area in front of the TV set up with snacks, and drinks, and piles and piles of games to try out, and a third controller for Mahiru because sometimes instead of watching, Mahiru will join them, tempted by their cajoling and whining and Tsurugi’s bright, high pitched yelps.

This is not one of those times.

This is a time when Mahiru got frustrated and stormed off, and… Well, Tsurugi isn’t quite sure what to do.

A single look at Kuro shows he doesn’t either, wide eyes watching the hall his Eve disappeared down and slowly the umaibo he had been munching on disappears into his mouth.

“Should we… Clean up?” Tsurugi asks, hesitant. Their characters on screen continue to idle, the timer ticking down. Kuro hits pause. Stands, stretches, cracks his back and Tsurugi can’t help but wince because that can’t be healthy…

“...Yeah,” the Servamp finally says, and bends down with a muffled groan to start gathering chip bags and drink containers. “It’ll give him time to cool down.”

“Does this happen often?” Tsurugi stands, too, and casts his eyes about for something to pick up, but there really wasn’t much. Kuro’s already got it handled.

It makes him feel just a little useless.

He was a grown up, wasn’t he? … Wasn’t he?

***

Giving Mahiru space to calm down seems to have been the right choice, because when they find him, curled up on his bed and looking just the slightest bit ashamed of his outburst, he looks ready to apologize at any moment.

But Tsurugi doesn’t want an apology.

He wants Mahiru to come play with them.

So he speaks first, apologizes, sincerely, and promises that he and Kuro will clean up after themselves properly, but when they are done.

“You don’t need to keep everything nice and neat all the time, y’know. Part of being a grown up is knowing when it’s time to play and when it’s time to put your toys up.”

Mahiru makes a face at him, buries his chin deeper into his knees. “Tsurugi-san, no offense, but I don’t wanna hear that from you of all people.”

“Ouch, haha.” He sits, plopping down gracelessly next to the still pouting teen, making him bounce and emit a startled noise, and Kuro shuffles forward, slides down on Mahiru’s other side. “...You’re right, though. I never really learned how to clean up and put my things away all nice and neat like you do. No one ever taught me.”

Mahiru shifts, glances at him curiously. Having seen Tsurugi’s room at C3, he definitely believes it.

“...I guess,” he starts, slow and picking his words carefully. Kuro makes an encouraging noise beside him. “Because I never really felt like the apartment was ‘mine,’ I always ended up cleaning after every little activity. Because having it be messy... Made it feel more lived in than it was.”

“... Mm. That’s exactly it. The illusion of company...” A self deprecating little chuckle. “Guess we both learned to handle that feeling in different ways. If Kuro-chan and I make a mess, we... Might need your help to clean it up properly. But... Can you trust us to clean up when we’re done?”

“... I can try.”

“Good!”

Kuro finally speaks up, because this was a conversation for them, not him. But the moment has passed, and it feels safe to say something a little stupid, a little funny. “We’re serious about the needing your help on how it’s done, thing.”

“Ugh, I believe you. Tsurugi-san, one time I put this guy in charge of loading up the washing machine and you know what happened?”

“Wait, Mahi, no—“

“Ohh, do tell~!”

“Bubbles. Bubbles, everywhere. My downstairs neighbor had no idea where all the suds dripping onto her balcony were coming from!”

“Pfffhahaha! Kuro-chan, seriously?! There are directions on the box!”

“And I followed them. Our washer is small, though, so it was too much...”

Kamiya Tsurugi was an adult.

Shirota Mahiru was a kid.

But, if they could teach each other the things they had missed out on…

Perhaps it was all for that reason, huh...

Tsurugi wonders if Mahiru will be able to make good on that promise for a cake this year.

***

The end of August comes again, and, just like he had hoped, Mahiru bakes him a cake. Covered in glistening, sweet strawberries, with loads of white, sweet cream, it’s almost too much, especially when paired with how Freya and Iduna had come by, are each sitting in Yumikage’s living room while Freya’s subclass play some noisy game with Takuto.

Some part of him didn’t think Mahiru would really do it. But not only did he keep his promise, he’s pressing a wrapped gift into his hand, a small one that rattles when it moves, this grin on his face as Tsurugi turns it over in his hands, this perfectly wrapped gift with yellow paper and citrus themed washi tape keeping it together. Mahiru’s Servamp lingers back, a noisemaker hanging unenthusiastically from between his lips. And yet, despite his carefully practiced indifference, there’s no denying that Kuro is also eager, just as eager as his Eve.

“Go on. Open it.”

So he does. It’s... A cellphone charm. “...Cinnamoroll...?”

Mahiru beams at him and shows off his own phone. Tsurugi snorts, a smile cracking at the sight of the Pompompurin character charm that dangles merrily from it.

“How’d you know my favorite~?”

“I asked around~”

“Thank you, Mahiru-kun,” Tsurugi answers him, feeling his throat close up, just the slightest bit. His eyes sting, and he holds that little charm close to his chest. “I love it.”

It's such a small gift. A tiny one, one perfectly suited to a high schooler’s budget, but it means so much.

Because it didn't have to be given.

Mahiru takes his wrist and leads him back to the core of the party, where they are all immediately mobbed by Tsurugi’s own homegrown family.

Vampires, magicians, humans. Adults, children, immortals.

People his own age. People who aren’t.

Tsurugi is loved.

He’s happy he was born.

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #pawprints #tsurugi kamiya #mahiru shirota #happy birthday tsurugi!!!#ao3 version will be up tomorrow

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rokutouxei · 3 years

Text

a solitary walk

genshin impact | G | 2478 | [ ao3 ] side hu tao/xiao | hu tao birthday fic!

every year, hu tao lives her life the way she believes it ought to be lived—loud and outright. even if reincarnation was real, and that one day we might die and then return to the earth once again, we will only ever be living this very life once. only once in these special circumstances, with these people, in this environment. it’s not because she fears death—no, it’s exactly because she knows death will come to her in the end that she lives like this.

lives treating the stone lions like they were actual cats.

lives climbing up the treacherous cliffs of huaguang stone forest to write poetry.

lives spooking others, walking late at night along wuwang hill.

hu tao knows death like the back of her hand, which is why life means so much to her. why she lives so much of it.

there is only one year a day when the anxiety is stronger than usual. when hu tao feels like living through these ideals is simply not enough. when she begins to doubt her place among the living, when no funeral pyre of inner demons can clear her head. on this day, on her birthday, it’s the long journey taking her from liyue harbor to the solitary mountains of liyue that truly takes out the storm in her heart, heavy and pounding.

when she can be between the pages of herself, among the voices of people she hopes love her.

“going out today, director hu?”

zhongli is, as he usually is at this hour, promptly sitting in the study of the wangsheng funeral parlor, likely just having finished some morning lecture to the undertakers. hu tao hums, whizzing around him as she peers at what book he’s holding. a history on rex lapis.

“no business today, maybe we need to rework our advertising strategy,” she says, straightening her back. “with you here, i get free time to take a walk and think of better marketing tricks.”

“please don’t use me as an excuse to skip work.”

“aiya, what do you think of me? that’s not what i’m doing,” she pouts. then, she points at the book in his hands. “what were you reading?”

“the undertakers were interested in something i said about the themes of death in liyue’s history, and i was merely reviewing my history,” zhongli answers, strangely more somber than usual. “it is mortal to fear death, but it is to go beyond what it means to be mortal to try to comprehend death as greater than something to be afraid of. as with rex lapis, who surely has witnessed a great many losses in his long lifespan.”

“what do you think the divine feel about death, zhongli?” hu tao asks, hands behind her back, looking up at the mysterious man who always seem to know more than he let on. “do you think it still means anything to them, when they live across so much time and space?”

“i think, director hu,” zhongli says, “that every death can still leave its mark. the archons were mortal once, after all. to not fear death does not mean to not honor its rightful weight.”

“hmmm,” hu tao nods, deep in thought. “you may be right.” then, a clock down the hall begins to toll, and she is shaken out of her reverie. “aiya, what time is it! i have to go, thank you for entertaining my question. i’ll see you tomorrow!”

hu tao is just about out of the door when he speaks again.

“director hu?”

she blinks. “yes, mister zhongli?”

he gives a smile that feels like it bears too much memory. “happy birthday.”

hu tao only beams at him, and then hops out of the door.

hu tao still remembers the disdainful stares of some of the older, more conservative people of liyue once the kids caught up to her little “hilichurl song.” something about little children chanting about death and murder in such a joyful manner did not sit right with several of the elders. this reflected poorly on hu tao, but—

did it matter?

the kids were—are—having fun, the song is catchy and she wouldn’t be conceited to say that everyone in liyue knows it at this point…

she remembers the little boy who had run up to her, who had returned fresh from a funeral rite up in wangsheng, holding her still-ashen hand saying, “you’re the big sis with the hilichurl song! teach me! teach it to me big sis!”

she remembers being that young.

she doesn’t quite feel like being this old.

the least she can do is immortalize its transcience; she’d write all the poems on death for the living if she had to.

she encounters xingqiu, who has obviously just come from his daily perusal of wanwen bookhouse, two books under his arm and another clasped between his fingers. she comes up right up before him and goes—

“xingqiu!”

he doesn’t even flinch, long used to hu tao’s little antics. he finishes reading the paragraph he is on before putting the book down, smiling at her.

“well, what is my liege doing this fine day?”

“oh, i’m off to take an adventurous little walk! what are you up to today, young master?”

the honorifics turned pet names were special little sparkles in their conversation. it had become so normal between them they no longer think about it, but the others who overhear are a little more curious.

“to put a little spice into the lives of a young exorcist and an aspiring cook, would you like to join me?”

were it any other day, hu tao would have said yes. there was nothing quite like getting off work early and messing around with chongyun and xiangling, mixing up the ingredients, activating excess yang energy. but today was not that kind of day, so she shakes her head and gives a little smile at her friend instead.

“not today, unfortunately. but soon, for sure!”

xingqiu nods. but before he leaves, he pulls out a bookmark of pressed silk flowers from behind his back, and hands it to her.

“taken fresh from the wilderness.”

“you mean yujing terrace?”

“where i got it is of no matter—” xingqiu says, stifling a laugh, “but instead what message it brings. may you find good company on this special day of yours, my liege.”

hu tao smiles, the kind that reaches her eyes, the one that so few people see, and then pushes xingqiu lightly down the road toward wanmin.

“go cause trouble!”

the first half of the journey is a lot less tricky. at a certain hour every day, without fail, there are wagons that begin their trip from liyue to mondstadt. hu tao usually hitches a ride on one of these all the way to wangshu inn, where she stops for lunch.

wangshu inn has become such a common culprit to their little meetings that no one gets surprised to see her anymore, smiling and waving at everyone all the way upstairs to the top floor. (sometimes she even passes by the kitchen for some almond tofu, but, ah, yanxiao doesn’t really want her using the kitchen, if for the sake of the food she makes.)

today, when she gets there, she finds aether and paimon sitting at the tables at the very bottom, waiting for their meals to be served.

“hu taaaaooooo!” paimon calls and waves, to which she waves in response, hopping up the stairs to get to them.

“if it isn’t the mighty traveler and paimon! my offer for a discount coupon for accidents is still available, if you’ve changed your mind!”

aether ignores the joke entirely—wisely—and asks, “not staying at the parlor today?”

“aiya, does that seem like such a strange occurence? is it wrong for the director of a funeral parlor to catch a break?”

“...from offering discount coupons for parlors?” paimon turns to aether. “and why so far out here of all places?”

the traveler knows. “we haven’t seen him today.”

“do not fret! the ever omniscient hu tao knows exactly where he will be,” she teases. “can i join you for lunch?”

"wait!" paimon whines. "who's he?"

hu tao orders nothing festive, just some plain snapdragon salad and some fish, but verr goldet hand-delivers a little assorted tray of desserts anyway—red bean soup, mango pudding, custard—all on a celebratory looking plate. she whispers to hu tao: “from the young gentleman.”

and aether’s eyes go wide as plates in realization, but before he can say anything, hu tao hushes him with a finger, not wanting paimon to make a big deal out of it. the traveler only chuckles, paimon neck-deep into a bowl of noodles, and mouths happy birthday while facing the director.

once lunch is over, they talk a little until their stomachs settle with the food, but then they are on each other’s ways. aether and paimon, headed up to mingyun to clear out a camp of hilichurls that have been causing trouble, as commissioned by the guild. hu tao, to qingyun peak, where the clouds can brush over her cheeks.

“are you gonna walk all the way there?”

“oh, it’ll take me just a few hours. i’ll get on any patrolling millelith carts if there are any. i’ll be fine. thank you, traveler!”

“take care, hu tao!” aether calls out. “and send my regards!”

“i knew i would find you here,” hu tao says, as she lands ever so gracefully on one of huaguang stone forest’s highest peaks. xiao sits there, cross-legged, with his eyes closed. the exhaustion from the journey sinks into her bones as soon as she sees him, as if knowing she will find rest in him—perhaps the same way the sun has sunk dark blue into the horizon.

“i’m here because i knew you’d be here,” he retorts. not even turning to face her. hu tao sinks wordlessly next to him, her hand on his lap.

she loves the way they fit together like this, two puzzle pieces magnetized to each other.

“thank you for the desserts.”

he places his hand over hers and squeezes.

xiao has never been the type for comforting words. the best he can offer is his understanding silence, the kind that makes hu tao know he can comprehend what is going on in her little, mortal mind--even when she herself is not sure where exactly her thoughts are taking her.

“i wanted to bring you almond tofu, but it would have melted on the way here.”

“you don’t need to worry about me.”

you know i’ll worry about you anyway.

worry about yourself.

i already do, why else do you think i’m here but for rescue?

here in huaguang, the breeze silences everything in her mind that speaks, so that all that remains is this: just her, just xiao, just liyue’s star-dotted night sky.

just good company.

no dead, no ghosts, no demons. just them.

they stay there until time seems like it stops existing.

the thing about xiao and hu tao’s relationship is that somehow they always find each other perfectly as one needs the other. it has always been like that from the beginning. from the very first time hu tao had gotten herself lost around mt. aocang, cornered by a family of geovishaps hell-bent on getting her for disturbing their nap; to when hu tao had found xiao slumped against a tree, bloodied with his mask on his face and near unable to breathe, her presence and stupid humor like exorcising the demons clinging onto him;

they find each other always, as if sensing death on the other, and they come to the rescue.

without even needing to call out each other’s names.

hu tao, leaning against him like deadweight, turns her hand around so they can interlock their fingers together. xiao does so wordlessly, and hu tao memorizes the warmth of him against her skin.

keeps it in the back of her mind for when he isn’t around.

they speak without speaking, passing each other the same old questions like they always do.

what if i die today?

you’re not dying today, hu tao.

what if i die tomorrow?

you’re not dying tomorrow, xiao.

who will take care of you when i am gone?

who will remember huaguang like these, starry nights with our hands clasped together?

who will i come to when i’m in need of aid, when i need someone who sees death as i do?

don’t go, it’s too early to do so.

hu tao only voices out one of many, many thoughts passed between their intertwined hands, when she says, “when death finally comes for me, thousands and thousands of years before yours, adeptus xiao…”

xiao hums.

“remember me?”

he scoffs just the littlest bit and hu tao knows he means always. “rest,” he says, as xiao turns and presses a kiss on the side of her face, tucking a pair of qingxin flowers with braided stalks behind her ear. one he’d made before she’d arrived, prepared to find her in this state.

“for sweet dreams,” he promises.

while in his arms hu tao dreams of her grandfather.

she is watching her young, 13 year old self host her grandfather’s funeral, incredibly young and small and out of place in the grandeur. her yéyé liked grandeur, and it was hu tao’s mission that day to make sure that everything about his grand goodbye went the way it was planned.

it was hard.

she was calm, and composed, and so unlike the hu tao the rest of liyue knew that day. she was solemn during the entire ceremony, not a twinge of a smile or a frown on her face, just calm and detached like it wasn’t her grandfather she was preparing to set off. like his hat wasn’t sitting on her desk at home drenched in her tears.

the present, older hu tao looks on to spot the little signs of breaking left unnoticed by everyone else, like the little ticks at the corner of her mouth, her hypercontrolled breathing, the way she squeezes the staff she’s inherited specifically for this day, under her grandfather’s request.

and while the younger hu tao does not catch him, the older hu tao spots her grandfather among the trees, standing there with his hat still on, in his usual garb, the kind that reminds her of chanting poetry in the afternoon and—

—he smiles.

at younger hu tao, then, eventually, at her, older, smarter, more mature hu tao, as if saying:

thank you.

you’ve done so well.

before he disappears into a fog of light.

hu tao does not feel the need to follow.

hu tao wakes up in her room in wangsheng funeral parlor smiling, feeling the clouds still on her face, qingxin still in her hair.

#huxiao #hu tao #hu tao genshin impact #hu tao genshin #genshin impact #genshin #xiaotao

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words-writ-in-starlight · 3 years

Note

For the ask meme: Sarah x Jareth (I almost wrote that as David Bowie), 14, 22, and 29!

I am RIGHT NOW watching Labyrinth with my partners, EXCELLENT timing! Cut for length.

14) When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Jareth has never been “sick” a day in his immortal life. He’s been stabbed, poisoned, cursed, and hungover, but even the weakest goblin is rarely “sick” and Jareth hasn’t spend enough time around mortals to have a good grasp of the fact that nonfatal illnesses even exist.

Point is, there’s an intermediary period between Sarah pointedly ignoring every owl in sight, no matter the coloring, and Sarah becoming the Goblin Queen where she forces him to visit the mortal world more than he has in living memory, including his. (Jareth has a vague sense that he might have been here more often once--perhaps when he was young, before he was King--but he’s been King so long, and the Labyrinth has a chain-tight grip on its own.) Toby is entranced, and also terrified--he doesn’t buy Jareth’s glamour for a second. Sarah spends half her life running interference on Jareth’s behavior, and the other half doing a double major in political sciences and folklore. Which she decided to get before she agreed to start talking to Jareth again, thank you, kindly fuck off.

Point is, eventually even Sarah’s suspiciously excellent immune system clocks out for the day, and she wakes up with a splitting headache, a wet and congested cough, and a sense that her skin is being abraded by even her softest sheets. She’s not sick-sick, it’s just a nasty head cold with a fever, but she calls out of class and flops down on the couch and mumbles non-answers to the goblin who lives in the top of her closet when it scuttles out to see why she’s still home.

She doesn’t even realize Jareth is there until she feels a shadow fall over her and cracks an eye to peer up at him blearily.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks in his most forbidding Goblin King voice, and she groans and pulls her blanket over her head.

“Go away, Jareth, I’m tired.”

“I will not,” he says automatically as he jerks the blanket down to her shoulder, and then he’s crouching down in front of her, mismatched eyes dangerous and inhumanly bright in the yellow light of her little dorm apartment. “Who did this to you, Sarah? I will not leave without an answer.”

“No one,” she says, squinting up at him. “It’s just a cold.”

“’Cold’,” he repeats, in the same skeptical way that he said ‘phone’ when she complained about his unannounced visits. “I am not aware of that particular toxin.”

“I’m just sick, it’s not like I’ve been poisoned.”

“An illness?” He pauses, pulls a glove off one hand and reaches out to touch her cheek experimentally. His fingers are always cold compared to hers, and she shivers hard when he touches her skin, but he doesn’t flinch. There’s something odd on his face, a locked-up hardness, and he says, “What is it?”

“A cold,” Sarah says again, pulling her blankets back up to her chin and shutting her eyes. “I’m just going to feel like garbage for a few days. Probably less if you let me sleep. Come back and bother me on Saturday.”

He doesn’t leave. Whatever, Sarah decides--that’s his problem. She’s tired and feverish and annoyed and she’s going to sleep whether Jareth likes it or not. She thinks he’s talking to someone--probably that snitch in the closet--about something--sounded vaguely like library and cold--but that’s Not Her Concern. Sarah is done here. She feels the end of the couch sink down by her feet just before she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, the Goblin King is still there, reading a book filched from one of her shelves, pen tapping idly against his lips--he’s marking up the fairy tales again, god, she hates his guts sometimes--and there’s a series of tidy piles on the rickety coffee table. It looks like someone robbed a pharmacy and cleaned out their Cough And Cold aisle, and then sorted their booty by color, which suggests probably goblins just smart enough to recognize a word their king showed them, but not smart enough to read the labels.

Sarah smiles a little and grabs some cough drops from the top of the red pile, and condescends to drape her legs over Jareth’s lap before she goes back to sleep.

22) Where does their first kiss happen?

Sarah has a much harder time in college than she expected. Not with being away from home, although she does miss Toby something awful and spends every second of her breaks with him. No, the problem is that she has to share a room. All the way through freshman year, she has a roommate, and--

And the roommate is fine, she’s a perfectly inoffensive girl from Chicago who keeps her things on her own side of the shoebox room they share and doesn’t bring anyone back to the room and never makes noise late at night, but Sarah hates it. She can’t quite put her finger on why--is a little afraid of what she might say if pressed, if she’s honest. She has these half-finished thoughts that involve words like territory and invader and mine. Sarah has worked very hard not to be a selfish teenager or, possibly worse, the kind of girl who sometimes talks to a Goblin King and wonders privately if his final offer was serious.

Sarah has no plans to be the Goblin Queen, is the point, no matter what Hoggle mutters under his breath when she admits, the summer after her first year of college, that she’s talking to Jareth again. (He just--he can come see her, there, and he can look like a person, and none of her other friends can, and people are weirdly nervous of Sarah, these days, and she was lonely, okay, so she let an owl into her room while her roommate was gone, and let them who never made a bad choice in college throw the first stone.) And that means getting over herself and never voicing any of the thoughts that creep into her head about how her roommate, who has every right to sleep here, deserves to be thrown in an oubliette for disturbing Sarah’s peace.

Sarah is better than that, these days.

The only person who isn’t fooled is, of course, Jareth, who is very perceptive and also very persistently determined to visit regularly. He smothers smirks when he sees Sarah force herself to be kind, and once offers, sweet as arsenic, to take Sarah’s roommate off her hands if you just say the right words, precious. Sarah glares at him and pointedly turns her back, and he laughs as he leaves. But he never does anything to her roommate, and Sarah doesn’t think about how Jareth never actually does anything to her space or anything in it, and doesn’t think about the rules that fairy tales handed down for millennia about places that fall under the power of a creature not to be toyed with.

She’s signed up to room with the same girl for sophomore year, because she doesn’t have a reason to claim a single and seniors always snap up the free ones. But she shows up to get her key, and the registrar frowns and clicks a few things and then shrugs and hands Sarah a key. He gives Sarah directions to one of the buildings up-campus, and Sarah goes, not particularly suspicious--she’s never been to the up-campus buildings, because people are nervous around Sarah and, while she’s manages to make a friend or two, no one really invites her back to their room. Into their space.

Sarah opens her door and stands there, staring, mildly shocked.

Apparently, she is now the proud resident of a senior-only dorm room, one of the very tiny apartments that are supposed to house two people, with a kitchenette and a couch and everything. There’s no one else’s name on the other door. Sarah is late moving in, but there’s no sign of anyone here, except--

The Goblin King is sitting at the desk in the bedroom that gets the most sunlight, feet kicked lazily up on the wooden top and playing a pair of crystals between his fingers, and he smirks at her.

“I know, I know,” he drawls, vanishing the crystals with a twist of his fingers. “I have no power over you. But the school’s quartermaster--”

“Registrar,” Sarah corrects automatically. He makes a dismissive gesture. “Did you--do this?”

“Of course,” Jareth says. “This...situation is apparently the height of luxury at this institution. You did so despise that fluttering creature--”

“Molly was perfectly nice--”

“--and I see no reason for you to endure her for another year.”

Sarah--should really say that he’s an interfering, high-handed bastard who pretends that he has the divine right to arrange her life to his liking, and keeps rules-lawyering his way around her totally legitimate freedom from his interference.

Sarah really doesn’t want to share a room again.

“What do you want in return?” She doesn’t even pretend that she’s not suspicious, and he puts on an offended face, bringing his feet down and pressing his lips together.

“It is a gift, Sarah.”

...oh. Sarah blinks for a moment. He sounds--geniunely annoyed. Gifts are, in her knowledge of the Underground and the fae alike, serious business.

She acts without thinking, takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, and kisses the high point of his cheekbone above his frown. When she pulls back, she sees a moment of transparent, raw shock before he orders his face into a self-satisfied and haughty raised eyebrow.

“Don’t say anything,” Sarah tells him, feeling her cheeks burn. “If you can keep your mouth shut, this might resemble a nice moment.”

“If I had known that I could claim debts in kisses--”

“You can’t!” Sarah interrupts loudly. “Don’t get any ideas! Now get out and let me unpack!”

29) Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Jareth is already thoroughly decided that Sarah is eventually going to agree to be his queen, one way or another, by the time she finally sighs and opens her window and tells the owl that if he’s very very good, and doesn’t talk to Toby, and looks like a regular person, she will speak to him just to get him to stop lurking. He breaks all of those rules very quickly, of course, but she doesn’t kick him out--instead, she yells at him, and he puts on his coldest and haughtiest voice as he snaps back at her, and it’s fun. Jareth never could turn down a challenge, and it’s been a long time since he faced a challenge he might lose, and just like the first time, it makes him ruthlessly determined to win.

It’s not news to him, therefore, that he loves her.

She manages to lie, obfuscate, and generally bullshit her way around admitting what she does at school for nearly three years. But she starts writing her thesis and slips up, and Jareth is stretched on her bed in the apartment he arranged for her like he lives there when he idly picks up a piece of paper and skims her proposal and she sees his eyebrow rise slowly before he holds it up at her.

“What’s this, precious?”

“Homework,” she says flatly.

“‘Thesis Proposal,’” he reads aloud, drawling. “‘Sarah Williams. Proposed title: I’d’ve Et Thy Heart of Flesh: Fairy Tales as a Portrait of Royalty Through History. Majors: Folklore and...’” His mocking drawl pauses, and he can’t quite hide his transparent delight as he finishes the sentence. “‘...and Political Science.’”

When he looks up from the page, she has a stubborn set to her mouth and a bright spark in her eyes, almost angry. “It’s not about you, you arrogant prick, I picked my majors years ago. Give me that, I need the notes.”

“And what do fairy tales say about royalty, dearest?”

“That they’re prideful jerks who steal kids for armies and play favorites--the paper, Jareth.”

“And what do you plan to do with your degree in politics?”

“Regicide,” Sarah snaps, and jumps out of her chair to snatch the paper out of his fingers. He lets her, and smiles at the way she blushes stark red across her cheekbones and down her throat, and wonders whether she would like the emerald ring he’s kept in his private chambers for the past three years.

Mortals have been doing diamonds, for betrothals, but he thinks green suits her better.

#labyrinth #sarah williams #jareth #sarah x jareth #otp: what's said is said #starlight writes stuff #this is legitimately three entire mini-fics i'm so sorry i just love them #ask meme #headcanon meme #anyway for the curious the time sarah gets sick is in junior year so these are slightly out of order #sarah and jareth probably get engaged after sarah graduates and she insists on being allowed to go to grad school before anything Else #(she knows there's a time limit on how long she can get away with lingering in the mortal world--she doesn't look quite right anymore)#(she strongly suspects that she's not aging anymore and jareth has NOT been reassuring about it)#so she gets a degree in (basically) monarchies and how they work #this time it IS actually about jareth and he's extremely smug about it #Anonymous #asked and answered #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Origins

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader feels homesick after a particularly gruesome case. Spencer can’t buy a plane ticket, but he can try to help recreate part of home with them.

A/N: hey heyyyy- this is my eighth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- I’m very nervous for this one to be honest- idk if it’s going to be a lot of peoples cup of tea- this one had me researching a lot lol since I have no clue about boats at all lol- I hope I did the request at least a bit of justice (sorry in advance if I fuck up any terms or anything) but I think I did pretty well with my research (I think). I originally got the request from @imagining-in-the-margins when she handed it over to me also thanks for some help on the folklore parts too! Here it is-

I always want to hear from you guys so feel free to drop me an ask here- and hopefully y’all enjoy!!

Warnings: ~disclaimer lol I know nothing about boating~ Anyway into the other warnings- Takes place directly after season 3 episode 8 (Lucky with Floyd Feylinn) Spencer gets really fucking sea sick- poor baby, Reader is from overseas (originally Cornwall in the request but I made it a bit more vague) and Reader’s father is a fisherman

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k

The air that floated around whenever I was out on the water, salty sea water or fresh salt water always seemed to breath life back into my lungs. The river that we were boating on was quite salty near its widest point, tides brought the saltwater in to mix with the fresh making the water quite brackish.

I was lucky to still live somewhat near water after I had moved over to America. I hadn’t had the luxury of picking exactly where I was going to live and work when I transferred to the FBI, I just happened to draw all the right cards. With my schedule I didn’t go out on the water as much as I used to, definitely not as often as I had as a child. I yearned often to feel the specific type of air people only felt when on the water, especially when my job got particularly gruesome.

Gruesome was a way to define the last case my team and I had been brought in to investigate. My stomach churned at the thought of our last unsub, his name couldn’t leave my mind and the images of his heinous acts certainly didn’t leave either. Floyd Feylinn Ferell had been his name, though I wished I could forever scrub it from my memory. His crimes were too vile that everything seemed to trigger a memory, specifically of the frozen corpses.

The team had even noticed how affected I was by the case, often sending me worrying looks whenever it looked like blood drained from my face over sheer shock- just like the corpses. Cases had been gruesome before, sure, but there was something about this one made me feel frozen by fear.

I needed air, and not just any old air.

Homesickness was another factor that was making me feel so ill. I hadn’t been back to my home in so long, the only time I spoke with my father was over the phone, no video chats at all. He was just as technophobic as Spencer, maybe even more so to be honest. My father’s life as a fisherman hadn’t made him exceptionally tech savvy. He did know how to work a phone now thanks to you, which was another similarity to him and Spencer. I had helped Spencer learn how to work his new smartphone just last week.

Spencer, my lovely boyfriend of a few months, wanted to help quell my dark thoughts as best as he could with all of his knowledge. His first solution was to always revert to books, which I didn’t mind, it only made him more special to me. He tried to find books that would remind me of home- and get my mind off of gruesome cases that were closed and shut cases.

Hotch had then suggested the team take a day off, just one. After weeks of back to back cases with little to no reprieve we’d finally get some time alone, even if it was only for a day. All I needed was one day to get on the water and cleanse myself of the negative thoughts I had been feeling lately.

It was actually Spencer that had first suggested this excursion. He had come to one of our dates with his arms full of pamphlets all about renting a boat for the day. He also had definitely read up about boats, I’d expect nothing less of Spencer. I had learned it was his way of subtly showing affection, researching anything that I even was passively interested in.

Spencer packed even more than I did when we set off on the day long date, packing to the brim at least one too many bags- to be honest he packed two too many bags.

Once we had gotten the boat out into the water, the relief was almost instant. It was like my body knew I was home. I wasn’t actually at home of course, but it somehow knew I was near the water again. Honestly, Spencer hadn’t been far off when he called me a mermaid on one of our first dates, I had gone on a ramble about my love for it.

The water wasn’t nearly as clear as where I had grown up, much more dull in my opinion. But, the breeze that danced across my skin as well as the water made me feel more at home then I had been in a long time. After letting the mist spray onto my cheeks for a while I looked over to check on Spencer, who was not doing well by the looks of it.

Spencer’s face was twisted up in a grimace, not used to being in a boat. Until I had asked him a few weeks ago, to make sure it would be safe to go out on the water with him, I hadn’t even been sure he could swim. I also wasn’t that surprised that he had this reaction, it would have been less of a problem if it was a boat that I had picked out and bought. But, I’d take what I’d get if only to be by the water.

He pretended to hide his urge to dry heave over the side of the small boat that I had rented for the weekend. He looked almost green at this point, I knew he was only staying for my benefit at this point making me a tad bit sad. Water definitely seemed to have the opposite effect on Spencer compared to me, being on the water always felt like instant relaxation to me.

I still, however, didn’t want him to feel any major discomfort like he was obviously feeling so I decided to pipe up since he wouldn’t tell me himself, “Are you sure you’re ok enough to stay, Spencer?”

He pulled his life vest around himself as tight as he could while crossing his arms around his stomach. It took him a second to answer and in that time I almost started to turn the boat around back to the bay.

“I’m fine!” He squeaked out and I could see a shiver run through him. If I had offered to turn the boat around he’d most definitely have given me a glare, not wanting me to turn it around for his own sake. I squinted my eyes in suspicion, he was not completely fine obviously, but if he was insistent on staying maybe I could find something to distract him from it.

“Do you want to hear a sea shanty or do you want me to tell a regular story?” I asked out into the wind, thinking that might distract him from his nausea.

“A story, but you can’t call them regular stories.” He teased back as well as he could with the urge to dry heave, as if he didn’t know what I had meant. I scooted a little closer to him before I prepared myself to tell my story.

Selkies were always the ones I started out with whenever I told the stories I had grown up with. Despite its dark undertones I had latched onto the story as a child, finding it similar to the mainstream perception of what mermaids were. Though I’m reality seals that could transform into humans were a far cry from mainstream ideas of mermaids, a Merrow would have been a better comparison.

I always gave Spencer the origins of the story, he liked to know exactly where they had come from and how I had heard about the story in the first place, “As you know by now the folklore about Selkie’s originates from Scotland. Well- let me think about what I haven’t told you about Selkies before…” I pondered for a moment before remembering an aspect of the Selkies powers I hadn’t educated Spencer on yet. There was no doubt in my mind that he probably had all this information stored away in his brain somewhere, it was nice to know that someone genuinely cared about the stories I liked to tell. “Selkies are immortal, but they can be killed by other creatures. And I know I’ve told you that part, but I haven’t told you that they are generally killed by sharks when they are in seal form.”

I then went into the whole lore surrounding Selkie’s immortality. My hands were waving around animatedly as I talked, just like how the small waves were rocking our boat. They had definitely calmed down by now, hopefully Spencer would feel better soon.

Once I finished my tale I beamed over at him, my mood had brightened significantly over this trip, even though I could sense that Spencer’s had not. Though the story might have helped, he seemed a little less sickly now. He then managed to ask again without puking, “Could you tell another story? Maybe about the Kelpies? Or the Pixies of Cornwall? You can pick anything though really, I love listening to your stories.”

My heart swelled enough from his words that I thought it might burst. I wouldn’t have expected anything less of Spencer, he always hunted for more knowledge about things he was maybe more ignorant about compared to other topics.

I opted to then tell him about the Kelpies, who were also water dwelling creatures, before moving onto the pixies. He even seemed to be getting attached to the same stories that you favored as a child, and even as an adult.

I looked over at him as I finished my last little bit of information that I felt I could muster up today. A smile filled with fondness crept onto my face, his fluffy hair strewn about. It was cute despite his lingering sea sickness.

His face was remarkably less green now, my stories must have soothed him which made me feel heat run to my cheeks. Each time Spencer took interest in my origins I felt deeper feelings bubbling up, that were more than what we had expressed yet. Instead of voicing my full feelings just yet, I leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss on the forehead. He may have not looked green anymore, but I’d wait to give him a kiss on the lips until after we got back to shore, just in case something was to happen.

“Can you sing now?” I knew that he was not requesting me to sing any silly old song. He wanted me to sing the sea shantys that my father had taught me as a child. Not that I minded his request, I’d do anything to make him happier and I loved singing them anyway.

I smiled brightly as I guided the boat back to shore while I sang, already feeling lighter. It had not just been the water this time that made me feel better, it was also because of Spencer. He had taken so much care to help me feel more connected with home, loving to learn about your origins.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith I’m sorry 😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg x reader #criminal minds #30 fics in 30 days

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

Lavinia angst, possibly a first kiss.

Written by @evoedbd

Part 1

WARNINGS:

Minor Violence.

Mentions of Blood.

Minor Spoilers.

Somewhat OOC.

+++++++++++++++++++

Lavinia’s words haunted Lee, echoed across the darkness. Tentative as her first step was, Lee seemingly found nothing to fear, no reason to believe her world would ever fall from beneath her. The black embodied so many things, all intrinsically understood. They spoke to Lee, singing in a language she couldn’t recollect learning, at a pitch that her ears could not physically hear, yet it resonated within her chest. The mirror was cold, somehow rubbery, as if she were stepping onto a rug of silly putty. Membrane across a throbbing answered by the heartbeat she guarded in her pocket.

Each step Lee took saw the maze fade, swept away like ink dropped into churning hot water. Floating like steam, the trees faded, swirling into the blackness surrounding. The reflections cast upon the mirror almost called, a promise of safety if Lee would only turn and run for them. A spiderweb there to catch her, should she fall. Or perhaps ensnare her in their beauty, in the beauty uncertainty could offer. Stubborn, a solitary chance for escape.

Perhaps the spiderweb was what lingered within the crystal darkness. The Blackness, Lee noticed, did not lack for light. It did not take the colour from what it reflected. Merely… color did not exist within its depths. A pure, clear darkness. A backdrop to the world, despite it being the world Lee strode upon. The centre of the mirror turned from black to frost, ice to a sorrowful field of snow. Snow fell softly, seemingly without a source for not a cloud existed. The flakes did not exist, and then they did, faster than a subconscious blink. White flakes stark against the vibrant nothingness.

The falling snow formed an informal barrier, thicker to the edges. As thick as crushed ice from the freezer which fell like stones upon Lee’s unsuspecting body. It blanketed her shoulders, falling upon them like the firm hands of some law enforcement. A warden to a prisoner, a reticent threat that misbehaviour would be punished off the books. The feeling sat heavy in Lee’s chest, even as the snow went from harsh to soft, from a vicious cry to silent tears against her tanned skin. Malevolence returned to melancholy apathy.

The spiraling storm was tamed into strands of nacreous white, cascading down the strong expanse of lissom shoulders. Even with such a willowy frame, Lavinia stood strong, too proud to let her body cave to the weakness within her heart. The weight of her bulky cloak pulled on her, held around her shoulders only by the cage of Lavinia’s clasped hand, wrapped around her tender body as if it could conceal the youthful woman, could reinforce that this was a Queen standing tall within her court. Could hide that the legend of destruction dared feel the melancholy of the pariahed existence she’d been deceitfully written into.

“Lavinia?” Lee pleaded gently, as if merely her words could destroy walls that had withstood sieges. It seemed her plea was heeded, for Lavinia’s shoulders finally fell, caving a hairs width as the Queen heaved an almighty sigh.

“You should not have come here, little Lionstar.” Lavinia whispered. Not that she need raise her voice. The world had once more fallen quiet, leaving nothing save the Queen’s quiet voice to be heard. Selfishly, Lee found herself grateful for the quiet, for she doubted her heart could have borne the weight of Lavinia’s tones had her voice been anything more. Regret tainted Lavinia’s tones, dragging the Queen to her knees without ever cowing her strong stance. Lavinia did not need to move, not with the weight of her tones betraying her. Lee could hear the broken expression she knew she’d find upon Lavinia’s face as the Queen turned to her.

The burden of immortality pulled at Lavinia’s young features. Features which had been young through too many wars. A youth stolen yet aching to break free of the chains, the weight which continued to drag on her. Even her almond shaped eyes, the sharpest aqua Lee had ever seen, seemed dulled under the shadows of her subtle brow, which had descended like stormclouds, darkened all the more by wisps of smoky eyeshadow and rebellious eyeliner. As if makeup could contain the brewing storm. It was a storm Lee had witnessed a thousand times, safe within the eye of such chaos, shielded from the worst of it even as Lavinia gushed warning after warning from full, crimson covered lips. Lips which were now so agonisingly downturned. Trembling like snow on the frail winds. Denied by the harsh set of her low sweeping jawline. Lavinia’s words of caution had always bled together in Lee’s ears, recklessly unheeded. Now, Lee understood why her body refused to listen, to accept. Nothing could have prepared Lee for what she saw. The briefest flash of hope, a lightning strike, before the skies went dull. The oceans froze. The spark extinguished.

“You shouldn’t be here either.” Lee commented, keeping her voice as quiet as Lavinia’s had been. At this, the Queen’s brow found some life, arching into a fine point as her lips twitched, a weak effort at one of her lazy smirks.

“Shouldn’t I be? Where else would I go that is safe from you?”

“Safe from me? Lavinia, we can work this out! I want-”

Before Lee could even comprehend the weight of Lavinia’s words, could complete her thought, Lavinia was there. Stalking closer, voice that same terrifyingly piercing whisper, a croon as much as a mockery.

“Me?” Lavinia’s redundant question was met with a confirming silence. Both women swallowed, staring at one another as if the other’s face might hold the answers they needed to such a potent question. Lee’s silence was deafening. The answer Lavinia sought and feared. The answer Lee herself couldn’t understand enough to give. “Of course.” The Queen nodded, turning to begin a pensive pacing with the effortless grace of a wolf closing in on unsuspecting prey.

“It always comes back to me, doesn’t it? You’ve always wanted to be close to me. I’m what the star fallen to the earth truly wants.”

“What?” Lee breathed, denial on the tip of her tongue. How Lavinia said those words. The sudden realisation dawning in her icy eyes, the raise in pitch, a note of wonder smothered beneath the derisive persona she aimed to keep so firmly in place. None of it sat well, in fact, every syllable saw Lee’s stomach tightening, a weight settling there. An uncomfortable stone she couldn’t dislodge, couldn’t ignore. All she had was the potential of denial, yet a single look from the Ice Queen killed it in Lee’s throat. Just what had Lavinia read from her eyes that had the Queen’s expression so… tormented?

“How do you want me, my little lion heart?” Lavinia seemed to beg behind her mockery, pleading the very fabric of reality for answers.

It was a flash, much like her hopes, a moment of indecision riding the undercurrents of care, and dare Lee think it, affection. A rebellious little flicker of emotion that Lavinia crushed beneath the weight of whatever burdened her so. A shift, something so very subtle yet impossible for Lee to ignore. The Queen’s shoulders straightened, loosing the lazy slouch, posture as regal as the finest paintings depicted nobility. She almost floated, every footsteps devouring the distance between her and Lee, much how the menacing slant of her lips promised Lee would find herself devoured if Lavinia’s hands landed on her. A wolf stalking an injured fawn, letting the bleeding creature escape merely for the chance to continue the hunt. The illusion of hope provided all for the predator to sweep away with an all too elegant sweep of crystalline talons.

“My weird, naive little book nerd? My star come to earth. What desire burns brighter than your senses? Who did you follow to this place where dreams fade to a nothingness to rival nightmares?” Lavinia queried scornfully, each nickname falling from her lips more potent than their potential affection. They warred, even as they fell silken from her silver tongue, a clash of everything Lee had ever known of Lavinia laid out like a white carpet, only to be lost in the snows. Lost in Lee’s growing discomfort.

“Stop.” Lee commanded, voice holding remarkably true despite how she staggered in the snow. The Queen smirked at this, wicked amusement shattering the weight of her agony for a breath. A breath stolen from Lee’s lungs as she righted herself.

“You’re acting strange, and for you that’s saying a lot.”

“Oh? Am I scaring you?” Lavinia’s ominous aura melted, warmed by an almost playful laugh low on a husky voice. A tilt of her head, mirrored in a briefly uneven slant of her shoulders. That same shift, the one that haunted Lee’s dreams. The girl who played with matches in place of Winter’s chill. How many people saw this? How many understood what they saw in such a little gesture? How many would give up their chance to put distance between themselves and the hunter to heed such a thing? How many could ignore the chill of an icy wall against their shoulders, mixed with the heat of Lavinia’s breath against their cheeks in their moment of admiration?

“Has the cowardice infecting your heart returned so suddenly?”

Had it? Lee trembled before the mystical being, trapped against a wall of ice by the mere risk of touching the Queen. Lee could break away, she could press into that unspoken space between them, challenge their roles… but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t obey, her lungs wouldn’t take the air she desperately craved for fear her swelling breast might brush those iced furs. That she might challenge and win, might drive her Queen away. When had air become more sacrificial than Lavinia? The fear claiming her breath was not healthy. This wasn’t healthy. To be so scared to lose somebody that she chose to stifle her breath. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t let Lavinia bully her. She blinked, preparing to reclaim the space she’d forsaken, only to catch a movement in the corner of her gaze. The Rebel Queen’s hand rose, extended towards Lee’s cheek for the briefest of moments before she froze. Winter in the Queen’s veins held her captive, the clarity of her vision disrupted by the gasp of the star within her snare. Once more, the monarch seemed to have found herself at odds, fingers curling on air less she foolishly offer affection. Less she reach for the warmth of a tanned cheek, or the softness of sun bleached curls. She swallowed; a gesture which looked as painful as forcing knives down the exposed column of her pale throat.

“I thought you had grown beyond that.” Nothing could have hidden the note of melancholy within Lavinia’s voice. Not her attempts at a sneer, not the chill of her magic touching where her hand dared not. Once more, her magic picked at Lee, little rodent claws tugging on the girl’s flesh. Punishing Lee for Lavinia’s hesitance. The girl bristled, brows furrowing as she inspected Lavinia’s face, close enough she could see the snowflakes powered in the Queen’s lashes.

“You don’t get to punish me because you’re scared. You’re the one who ran away.” She gently challenged; caution lost to the rise of heat in her chest. Her heart thumped rebelliously, warming her to the tips of her fingers. Lee averted her gaze, not for fear of Lavinia’s, but to the Queen’s hand. A hand still raised, curled into that image of forlorn restraint. A hand that struck out, accompanied by nothing more but a harsh breath, nails biting into the ice beside Lee’s head, shattering the wall so violently that Lee staggered. The human winced as she came down amidst the rubble, back bent across the misshapen bricks, knees caught over the rise. It was then the Queen dared touch, the wrath of winter empowering her as those icy talons sunk through the material of Lee’s tie, through her shirt. The Queen hauled Lee from her feet, effortlessly holding the shorter girl aloft in the grasp of her plagued vehemence.

“You dare speak to me this way? As if you know me oh so well? Do you even know who it is you have chased to this place?”

There it was. The lava beneath the icy surface. Lee could only stare, trying to decipher the snarling beast before her. The violence of the gesture should have frightened Lee. Should have had the girl scrambling in panic within the monster’s grasp. Grovelling for her life. Yet, Lavinia’s tone was so level, a practiced tune disguised in vicious resplendence. Her intent was intimidation, yet her hand was so steady, the brush of her knuckles against Lee’s collar so cautious. How could a monster hold such caution, have such awareness to disguise that caution? Swallowing, Lee knew the answer. It couldn’t. That meant this was Lavinia, not some creature replacing her. However far removed from the nihilist rebel, this was Lavinia. This beast did not need to be deciphered, for Lee already knew her. Lee held her heart, she had for nearly 18 years. A heart that had been broken, raped and violated by betrayals of lust and logic. A heart kept in pieces by worlds conspiring… a heart that rebelled against the chance that it might be loved in return. Lavinia had to prove herself the monster. She had to prove she could hurt Lee, that she could kill Lee. She had to be strong enough, to drive everyone away, keep them out and away from the chasm her heart had left… But she couldn’t let Lee get away. Couldn’t let the girl go, couldn’t keep her close, couldn’t love but couldn’t stop her heart’s betrayal within her own torn chest. She was burning the possibility of a relationship at the stake, assassinating the goodwill between them, anything to keep Lee’s hands from her soul… all the while putting her soul in Lee’s waiting hands. She was doing what she always did when her wounds were laid bare, lashing out, defending by driving all those nearby away. Then she would never be hurt again, or worse, come to depend on another. She wanted Lee to run, wanted Lee to be terrified of her… Lee refused to rise to the bait, choosing to speak soothingly, to gently lay her hand over Lavinia’s.

“You’re acting as if you’re two different people, Lavinia.”

Lavinia’s eyes widened, realising what she had done, what her explosiveness had almost cost her. She’d almost failed to succeed, yet succeeded to fail. It was Lavinia’s turn to tremble, to freeze and think, to process what this foolish girl within her grasp was doing. It was so typical of Lee, to respond to cruelty with determined kindness, to risk herself to see Lavinia’s heart defrost. Even a few droplets from the ice encasing her seemed worth everything to Lee, the foolish girl, the star fallen to earth. The girl who tasted of magic and mortality, without ever having been beneath Lavinia’s tongue. The girl who changed the very air around her, who accepted and welcomed Lavinia, who actively sought the lonely monarch out. Lee was… too good. Too pure. Yet, she fell from grace to shine into Lavinia’s torment. Sacrificed for the damned. Once, Lavinia had believed that because Lee was unable to see the damnation. Now, she fearfully suspected Lee saw her darnation better than any mortal ever had. Saw it, considered it, then chose to ignore it. Lavinia couldn’t make her see, couldn’t drive this fool away, even as she threatened to tear her open. Even as she threatened life and limb. Oh, what crimes had she committed to earn the loyalty of such a beautiful soul? What had she done to deserve the torment of destroying the star laying herself in winter’s palms?

Quietly, Lavinia placed Lee back upon her feet, smoothed her tie down as best she could, wilfully ignoring the fuzzy bloom of icy magic across the bars of navy, white and red. Lee followed suit, forcing her gaze to remain on Lavinia’s, to ignore the reflection of magic across Lavinia’s revealing eyes.

“So, who is it you want, Lee?” Lavinia’s question was accompanied by the gentlest of winds. As if made of powder, her illustrious gown fell away, delicately crumbling to reveal the rebellious image Lee was so familiar with. Her breath caught in her chest, bubbling into a stuttered sigh in her tightened throat. The familiar figure still existed, still fought for some prominence in the picture. The relaxed nihilist. The rebel. The Lavinia of Whitehorn.

This Lavinia was so flowing, so free within the confinements she rebelled against. The crisp lines of a dark blazer somehow accentuated the slope of her shoulders, uneven due to a lazy half slouch. Ever the rebel, the blazer’s sleeves didn’t cover finely veined forearms, scrunched subtly at the elbows, leaving the jangling armor of a dozen fine bangles protecting Lavinia’s left forearm. A hand tucked into the pocket of dark blue shorts; waistband half concealed by a partially untucked university t-shirt. White and green, hopeful and bright amidst the dark shades whilst remaining complimentary. The lower one eyes wondered, the more tattered cloth they could find, with torn fishnets on proud display, leading right to decorative combat boots. White, with the most elegant, elaborate swirls of dark greys and blacks forming the gothic flowers.

“Is it the mysterious girl in the hallways? A stray creature to be tamed? The girl who will share stories with you? The cliche romanticism of the rebel only the good girl can draw a smile from? The bad girl you can redeem?”

Lavinia moved as if nothing could contain her, relaxed ease as she began to circle. Lee didn’t dare turn her head to follow, not with Lavinia’s words washing over her. Not with the lazy brushes of touch. A shoulder skimming hers, the soft jangle along with the gentle sting of cool metal against burning flesh, a lazy hand across her back, teasing at the ends of her wild hair. A suggestive finger running the length of Lee’s blazer pocket. Subtle touches given by a creature who cared not who watched her commit such acts. Lee could only follow with her eyes, turning her head only to hear the Queen’s soft musings. The rare occasions Lavinia came into Lee’s view inspired hope. The Rebel’s face was relaxed, lips in that unaffected, not quite a smile she so often gifted Lee. Those cusps of vulnerability that could grow if only Lavinia cared enough to let them.

“Do you want to save me?”

“Lavinia…” Lee sighed, closing her eyes as Lavinia’s hand touched her shoulder, her hand wondering dangerously close to Lee’s throat, her hip brushing into the small of Lee’s back. Lee had to clench her teeth, momentarily breathe to centre herself. Why was every goddamn fairy-tale, magical being so fixated on this goddamn saviour complex? All this, she can never have her heart back, and beware the wicked Queen, who constantly was trying to warn Lee away. Beware the big bad wolf, less his broody pout and gorgeous eyes rip your throat out. Cautious be thee about the Darkwood Witches, less you turn to a toad. Praise be Prince Charming, maidens beware, less his extreme levels of gay leave your hearts broken and your brothers never the same. Truthfully, Lee was so damn tired about it all. The dehumanisation even the magical beings themselves engaged in towards themselves. How people kept casting rolls of hero and villain. What was wrong with wanting to restore Lavinia’s heart and hold the woman close, instead of trying to hurt her? What was wrong with wanting coffee with Ezra, or laughing at how Lucas flustered her brother? What was wrong with wanting to save her friends? To love them as people, not archetypes.

“Or is it the Ice Queen? The cold beauty of Winter?” It took Lavinia’s sneer to break Lee from her musings. She was aware of a soft pressure against the back of her neck that roused her, a thumb just beneath the hairline that promised to soothe all the tension. Something that left Lee pliant.

In an unsteady blink, that thumb slid from neck to jugular, teasing over Lee’s hammering pulse as icy talons dug into her tender flesh. The Queen’s fingers spread, stretched to encompass the hinge of Lee’s jaw, claws drawing blood to the surface just as the Queen’s thumb had. A soft hiss escaped Lee, melting into a confused whimper as Lavinia’s grip tightened, as her thumb brushed the length of Lee’s jaw to rest under her chin. Lee was helpless, pulled back into the Queen’s mass by a second hand curled over her ribcage. With the wall of Lavinia’s body curled around her back, Lee could only surrender to the threat, let herself swoon into Lavinia’s hold to avoid those lethal claws. The warmth of Lavinia’s palm against her throat helped sooth the ache of bending her head back. She swallowed, realising all too swiftly the level of danger she was in. She understood now why Lavinia’s hand was light and relaxed, following the movement of Lee’s stuttered breaths. Lavinia didn’t need to use force. Not when her nails were hypodermic needles poised to turn into knives if Lee moved even an inch out of place. Not when a single unexpected move would have those claws claiming her lifeblood. They’d see her drained, staining the snow, falling to her knees at Lavinia’s feet as nothing more than a corpse. A distraction removed. Even the act of breathing felt tight in her chest; every breath threatening to push her lungs into those talons. Just as every erratic beat of her pulse pushed her skin further onto those sharp fingers, a string beneath a musician’s bow, vibrating and throbbing. Each thump of her pulse against those claws had a droplet of blood weeping through. Every beat after only felt as if daring those icy points deeper as it leapt to greet them. She knew her skin must be blanched beneath the pressure of Lavinia’s grasp, that soon the droplets of blood gathering would begin to trickle down her jaw, if they didn’t freeze. Yet, she didn’t panic. She refused to. But stars above, was it torture to hold herself so still in the cage of Lavinia’s potentially deadly grasp.

“The villainous thief of the young and jaded? She who took a kingdom, who turned the desert to tundra at a whim? I took a kingdom from Greed! I carved myself a destiny greater than any dared imagine! Men tremble at the whisper of my name; my title ensnares even the boldest heart. Tell me, Lee, could you endure hearing the tales of my darkest deeds? Could you stomach what I did to those who stole my innocence? To those who betrayed me?” Lavinia punctuated her question with a subtle squeeze, tightening her fingers over the bone of Lee’s jaw. Forcing the girl to look directly into her eyes.

“You’re scaring me.” Lee whispered. A confession torn from her with another squeeze. Nobility sharpened Lavinia’s features; Lee noticed. As if the tightened muscles of her jaw concealed the blunter angles, drawing attention to her pert nose. A nose which drew a little closer to Lee’s, bringing Lavinia’s lips almost to the girl’s cheeks as she spoke.

“You should be afraid. The story I shared is truth. I could freeze you so suddenly your body would continue to walk, unbeknownst your life was mine.”

Oh. Lee believed it. With the look in Lavinia’s eyes, Lee couldn’t do anything but believe every word, every syllable, with every fibre of her being.

The magic within Lavinia seemed to cause her to glow, bringing an intensity to her eyes that left Lee speechless. They were alive. Hungry and devouring, promising a million things, not a single one that the victim of such a gaze would live to speak of. What use were unimaginable pleasures to the dead, afterall? More terrifyingly, such a gaze could make one want to be that corpse for a chance to see the emptiness hiding in the shadows filled. To see what softness might appear in a moment sated. What was missing, Lee saw, was the quiet of remorse. The quiet longing. The Queen’s eyes were so loud, so active in their emotions, providing not a single one was beyond the moment. A creature of whim, only, Lavinia had a mind that planned across decades.

Lee believed. She believed everything Lavinia had told her. Everything the Queen had tried to explain. It thrummed beneath her skin, spilling over onto the points of Lavinia’s summoned claws. Claws which, despite the ease at which they could tear her apart, had only touched. Only scraped at her ribs instead of digging in. Magic, which had turned a maze into horrors, that only moved to intimidate. Lee believed Lavinia when she claimed herself dangerous, but there was something Lee believed in more than threats.

“But you won’t.”

“Won’t I?” The Queen laughed. This was a different laugh. This one was not for Lee’s antics, not to mock or play a role. This laugh seemed heavier, burdened. A laugh for her own foolishness. A laugh at her own expense.

“I do not command my magic as others do. It yearns to reclaim what was stolen. I long for my heart to be complete again, Lee, and your very life prevents that. I should not care for it as I do...”

Heat burned through Lee, white hot in her chest as she threw herself to the wolves. Furiously, she turned in Lavinia’s grasp, scarcely registering how swiftly Lavinia’s hands reared back from her in favor of delivering her defence in the most scotching tone.

“That doesn’t make you evil, Lavinia! You...”

“I’m… what?” Lavinia’s intensity drove the air from Lee’s lungs. A single whispered question, caressed between downturned lips was enough to fill a void. To still Lee’s very heart for a painful second, before it began to race. What could she do with this? The intensity in Lavinia’s pale blue eyes, the almost white gleam of her hair framing an expression of perfect longing.

“Am I the girl you’re so invested in saving, or the Queen you must flee lest she reclaim her heart at the cost of yours?”

It was a question delivered so softly one might mistake it for freshly falling snow. No magical flares or grand gestures. Even Lavinia’s voice held nothing save her trembling. Trembling she couldn’t let reach her body, even as she reaches out to brush a few erratic strands of hair from Lee’s face. A simple, quiet gesture, no theatrics accompanying her final plea.

“Tell me. Who do you see?”

#anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #ever after academy #eaa #eaa lavinia #lavinia x mc #lavinia le guin #lovestruck lavinia #ever after academy lavinia #angst #angsty #woeful wednesday

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hankwritten · 3 years

Text

The Weight of Other People’s Thoughts

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @lilythedragon05, Scotland

It was a bad idea to follow that tugging cord at the center of his being, the one that called him to Ullapool, and he never would have dared to entertain it if he knew it would have brought him here.

Jane sat by the ocean, stone’s throw from the town, but his distasteful frown kept his eyes locked firmly ahead instead of gazing dubiously at it. What had he been thinking? Coming to Ullapool had only make him feel worse, not better, a smirch against Tavish’s memory if there ever was one. Rubbing in Tavish’s face that he’d never go home again—and here Jane was, free to frolic across the whole damn planet, even if it took him to stupid countries ending in ‘land’.

He leaned further over his knees, barely feeling the sea breeze as he thought about his dead friend.

His murdered friend, he reminded himself. Murdered by someone who he thought he could trust, who now had to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

Everywhere Jane looked it reminded him of Tavish. Maybe that’s why he’d come: self-flagellation. Appropriate punishment. Or maybe he was so desperate not to forget, he’d take the pain that came with remembering. Torturing himself truly, since he could look on the hills and surrounding coast that he had once only known through enthusiastic descriptions, see for himself the places where a young Tavish had played with dummy-grenades. He could imagine him talking to the local shopkeeps. He could practically see him walking up this very path, groceries in one hand, a newspaper filled with fried fish in the other as he took a large bite out of it-

Wait.

Tavish stopped dead, his face enveloped in utter shock. Still mid-chew, he said, “Jdra-ne?”

Jane leapt to his feet. “Apparition!” He pointed an accusing finger at the offending spirit. “Do not think for a second I will be cowed into repentance by the spectral manifestation of my guilt!”

Tavish nearly choked as he tried to swallow his bite of fish. “I…what?”

“Ghosts serve no purpose on my journey to recovery,” Jane continued. “Not even ones that look like my dead friend! Be gone creature of the other world!”

“What I- I’m not bloody dead.”

Jane squinted at him. He definitely didn’t look dead, totally opaque, no fettered chains representing his sins in life and his guilt over failing to help his fellow Man.

“…Are you sure?” Jane pressed.

“You’d think someone would know if they were dead,” Tavish grumbled poignantly, now glaring at Jane for some reason.

“I killed you though. It was-” -pickaxe right through the sternum, crushing, all the red bits coming out when they should have been in- “That was definitely fatal.”

“Aye, was, but I managed to limp my was back into Respawn range. Took a better part of an hour, but I made it.”

There was something odd to Tavish’s voice, something he wasn’t saying, but the realization that he might actually-seriously-really be alive was starting to set in and Jane was too afraid to believe it.

He took a step closer, past the bench he’d been enjoying his solitude at and completing a full circle around the Demoman. Tavish’s head followed him all the while, up until Jane came to a stop in front of him. “…Promise you are not a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost,” Tavish said, as convincingly honest as he’d always been. Not that his acting skills hadn’t covered for his mendacity before-

-no, no that was a trick, it all turned out to be a lie a damn lie-

“Fine then. You’re not.” Though Jane would keep his eyes peeled for phantasmal anyway. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I live here,” Tavish huffed. “Gravel Wars are over, wasn’t going to spend the rest of my years in some blighted desert. Better question is what are you doing here, yank?”

Crap. Well, maybe a half-truth would suffice. “You always talked so much about Scotland I thought…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tavish stood there, one hand still clasped around his groceries. The moment dragged on, vast seas of unsaid things between them, of regrets still festering, to which he ended with, “would you like me to show you around?”

Jane looked down, trying not to stare at his shoes but instead at the foreign soil around them. “…Sure. Why not.”

“Everything is incredibly vertical,” Jane complained as they climbed up yet another hill Tavish insisted was part of the journey.

“Aye, that’s why they call it the Highlands, BLU.”

Jane hated how fucking smug he sounded. Hated, and missed it all the same, missed how this bastard could set a fire in his gut just with one of his damn smiles.

“And there she is,” the Demoman said proudly as the crested the final ridge.

“Damn. Really went to crap in the last couple centuries.”

“Oi, don’t point fingers at me! I’ve only been around for forty of those.”

DeGroot Keep was shriveled and hunchbacked since Jane had last seen it, folding under its own legacy as ages had eaten the tallest spires first and chewed its way down to the cob. Still, he could just make out the choke points, the parapets, the places he used to go charging into with his mêlée weapon held high—all sanded down by the years, the vaguest memories of control points where a portal in time had briefly allowed Jane to witness their existence.

“So what,” he asked, following Tavish into the slight dip in the Highlands where the Keep nestled, “you live in here like some sort of anti-Italian?”

“An anti- what now?”

“Anti-Italians! Despises sun, allergic to garlic, doesn’t show up in mirrors, no sex life. Basic literary reference, RED.”

Tavish rolled his eye. “No, I’m not squatting in the dilapidated castle. Got a perfectly nice home down in the village, I just happen to have inherited this along with…all the other crap.” He waved his hand. “I’ve considered shelling out to having it restored but…dunno. Seeing it go from its heyday to this makes me think that in another couple hundred years it’ll just fall apart again.”

He sat on a piece of tumbled rock, one that used to hang over the Keep’s gate, a bright and shining keystone now used as a stool. Jane joined him.

“Don’t get much of this at home, do you? Old crap. Yer country’s still a wee babe you know, nothing’s even falling apart yet.”

“Incorrect!” Jane amended. “There are plenty of old things in America!”

“For last time lad, Thomas Edison wasn’t immortal, and he didn’t be build a second Shangri-La under Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Your statements reveal both your ignorance and your compunction, but I was actually talking about mounds.”

“Mounds,” Tavish repeated dubiously.

“Yes! Mounds! Fourteen hundred years ago Americans were building ceremonial mounds in order to track celestial events! They look like animals from the top, lynx, bears, fish, all that crap. I used to walk next to this bird one every day on the way to school.”

Tavish blinked at him, tilting his head. “No offense Jane, but including Native people usually isn’t in your worldview. Where’d you even learn all ‘o that?”

“My mother taught me, so think insinuating more cyclops—lest you show disrespect against her memory and I am forced to take out your other socket!”

Tavish raised his hands defensively, but there was a smile creeping at the corner. “Alright, alright, I get ye. A Mum’s honor is a serious thing.”

“Hm. Good.” Jane glanced ahead, suddenly afraid of lapsing back into silence, as though Tavish would start to slip away from him if they did. “How is your mother?”

“Ah…she passed some years back.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright.” Tavish paused. “I still see her sometimes.”

“Metaphorically or…?”

Tavish glanced at him, but then away just a quickly, as though frightened of what he might see. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright with you.” Instead, he stared ahead, the sun setting between its cradle within the mountains. “Heh. At least there’s something that’s the same no matter where you go. Always a sunset.”

“Guess so.”

Still, Jane found he liked this one better than the ones back home. At least, better than all the ones he’d seen before he’d met Tavish.

The next day was spent in the village, and Jane couldn’t help but yearn for more of Tavish’s time, more of his attention. His friend. His friend who was still alive. Tavish had a kind word for every person they passed, all of whom didn’t seem to notice Jane at all, simply starting up a conversation with their fellow local and submitting to the rhythm of the morning. Breakfast was some sort of potato scone, but Jane wasn’t hungry, so he just walked beside Tavish as the other man ate. They found themselves at the same bench where they’d first run into each other.

“So,” Tavish asked. “Ullapool everything you thought it would be?”

“Hm. It’s…nice. It is obviously not perfect for geographical reasons entirely outside of its control, but. I understand how it made you the man you are.”

“Me? Nah.” Tavish wiped off his mouth with his sleeve. “I made myself like this.”

Again, he wouldn’t look at Jane, wouldn’t say what they were both thinking. That things had gone wrong, that they had both fucked up. One of them more than the other, but Jane had found him again, and maybe they could still figure something out, still have time to unearth all that they had deemed too dangerous and buried in the sand.

Jane reached forward, and put his hand over where Tavish’s was resting on the bench.

And watched it pass straight through.

Jane sprang away. “I knew it! I knew you were a ghost!”

Likewise, Tavish stood up sharply. “I am not. I bloody told you I was’t.”

“Liar! I will not be swayed by any more perjury from your ethereal mouth!”

“I’m not lying!” Tavish snarled at him, his eye dark and narrowed, burning hotter than the words would imply. “I never lied. I never wanted any of-”

“Blasphemy!”

“Would you just listen for-!”

“You cannot guilt me apparition! For I know that-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Tavish’s fist closed around the neck of his scrumpy bottle, half drained before noon, and threw it full force at Jane’s head.

Jane raised an arm to block the incoming blow, but the impact never arrived. A second ticked by, then two, then three, and slowly he lowered his forearm to reveal the panting Demoman behind it, shoulders heaving and an inscrutable expression tearing across his features.

“How’s that for the truth you bleeding idiot,” he said.

Jane looked to Tavish, then rotated his neck slowly, staring at the bottle that had landed in the grass behind him. He blinked, willing what he was looking at to make sense, to suddenly disappear and go back to where things were a second ago. To believe he hadn’t seen that bottle connected with his own nose.

There was something he didn’t want to do, but he did it anyway, turning his gaze forward inch by agonizing inch, staring down at his own hands. Fully taking how translucent they were.

The moment shattered, Tavish tore his eye away. “Fuck. Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve…”

Jane was still looking at his hands. There was panic, deep and overwhelming rising within him, but there was no raised pulse to accompany it, no sweat on the back of his neck.

He lifted his chin to Tavish. “What? I don’t…”

“I didn’t die,” Tavish said thickly. “You did. I killed you and I walked off and you just bled out for who knows how long and-”

-the pickaxe but also a sword, just as deadly buried two feet into his chest and the man above him trying to shove it in a few extra inches, strangled screaming as it pushed deeper-

Jane hadn’t been paying attention to the last half of Tavish’s muttered confession. The Demoman was crying now, pawing furiously at his one lone eye as stared out valley below them, looking anywhere but at Jane as his sclera turned red.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “Christ Jane I’m so fucking sorry. If you came to haunt me or whatever I just- I just want you to know that you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. That it’s been killing me every day since.”

He collapsed on the bench, curling away from Jane as he buried his face in his hands.

It could have been some sort of trick. A ghost bottle or…no Jane wouldn’t even try. He attempted to remember what flight he had come in on but couldn’t. He grasped for how many years since the Gravel Wars had ended, and couldn’t find the answer.

Jane was a ghost, yet everything still hurt as much as it had when he had lived. Immaterial, and he still so badly wanted to touch Tavish’s hand.

He sat on the bench next to him. “I didn’t come to make you feel bad, Tavish.”

“Then why did you come?” It sounded like it was meant to be venomous, but instead it only sounded empty—empty and wet with tears, like a plastic bag trampled into a puddle.

Jane looked down at his hands. His useless, ghost hands that he could still knit together. “I…I wanted to see you,” he said truthfully. “I missed you.”

Tavish looked at him, bleary-eyed. He whispered, “I missed you too. So damn much.”

“Whatever I was doing before, I missed you enough to come here. To someplace I thought you would be.”

A panicked jolt crossed Tavish’s face. “You’re not leaving, are you?” The same man who a moment ago thought Jane had come to smother him with guilt was despondent at the idea that Jane might go after all, that he wouldn’t get a chance to hurt himself with his own regret anymore.

“No, no not yet,” Jane said. He tried his best to wrap and arm around Tavish’s shoulder. The mortal shivered where their skin met.

“Okay,” Tavish said quietly. “Okay. Good. Thank you. I don’t think I can…When I saw you sitting up here I couldn’t believe it could be fore something good. That the only reason you’d want to haunt me would be because you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

It was true. Even though he remembered now, remember lying there, thinking how they’d killed each other, Jane had only ever hated the man who’d believed the TV’s lies.

“I really did come because I was thinking of you. Missing you.” Jane paused. “Today was fun. I’m sure you have a lot of other places to show me, right private?”

“…Sure. Sure whatever you want.” Tavish wiped at his nose. “I’m sorry Jane.”

“It’s alright Tavish.” He held his head in the crook of Tavish’s neck. “I’m sorry too.”

#demosolly #boots n bombs #tf2 fanfiction

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siriannatan · 3 years

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Beeduo Oneshots - Technoblade and Foolish interjection #1

Technoblade spends a lot of his time napping. Naps were nice. No voices, no governments, no people trying to use him. Steve and all the other bears and wolfs were enough to keep the place safe from monsters. Between his naps, he would catch up on rare news with Philza, gathered more firewood, chucked some snow at Ranboo, remove some snow from the roofs. The longest he was up was when Quackity recruited him to help with the Egg, and as much as he didn't like the guy he didn't like the Egg even more. He just regretted they couldn't save everyone the eggheads lured in with that party.

That day Techno said 'hi' to Phil who seemed a bit distracted, and in a hurry, he said something about having to check something in Manberg. He would have to ask about it later. The plan for that day was to gather some firewood, he bid Philza farewell and went out with his axe, not his combat axe he got from Ranboo... It was weird that he was suddenly moving in with Tubbo, not that it was Techno's business, he was still part of the Syndicate and the last president of Manburg seemed to be very much against governments and formal wear on anyone but Ranboo.

It wasn't all that cold that day, for a cold snowy tundra it is, anyone not used to cold would have a bad time but Techno was used to it.

Foolish wasn't having a good time. After the trip to Tubbo's mansion, he made the genius decision to visit 'Philza', he wasn't looking for Phil, he was looking for Technoblade. Everyone was afraid of him and if Foolish managed to befriend the anarchist maybe they wouldn't mess with him and his building projects... Why was everyone living in snowy tundra's can't they live in a nice warm jungle or even better, a dessert. It was far too cold.

As far as wood gathering trips go this one wasn't so bad. Just half an hour was enough to gather enough wood, no lost monsters under the trees, hiding from the sun. Some wild wolves run away as soon as they saw him approach. On the way back, in the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of the sun reflecting off of something. Turning around he saw a person? Should the sun be reflecting off of people's faces? Walking closer he poked the person with a long stick. No response. It was a person, with golden shining skin, both his piglin side and the voices were screaming in his head, conflicting, agreeing. Gold! GoLd! EEEE Help. help. Foolish... Shark-man, Blood for the blood god. EEEE GOLD help Technoblade just pushed it all to the back of his mind. With a heavy sigh, he dropped the bundle of firewood he carried, took off his cape, wrapped it around the person, threw them over his shoulder and after picking up his wood again began the march towards his a little more distant than he thought buildings, plumes of smoke from chimneys and fluffy warm Steve. He really should get over how tall Ranboo is and stop wearing high heeled shoes. At least the golden person wasn't heavy. Techno soft GOLD EMERALDS SOFT Technosoft Philza PHILZA EEEEEEE At least no one was home to mock him in person as he came back with ab unconscious person.

The last thing Foolish remembered from before he passed out was cold. What he felt now was warm, fluffy and was tickling his nose "Achoo".

"Let's hope the cause was Steve and not cold," he hears an unfamiliar voice. It wasn't hard to see who it was, the room was small and full of furniture, Chests, alchemical stands a table and two chairs. Very shabby craftsmanship, Foolish was close to screaming at how simplistic it was. By that table sat the Blade.

Long pink hair let loose reached way past his waist adorned with a golden crown decorated with gems. Narrow thin shoulders devoid of the red cape he heard about, high heeled knee-high boots. Every part of Foolish screamed that this man was dangerous. Especially the red eyes focused entirely on Foolish, he could feel them moving between his forehead and eyes. Foolish didn't want to look him in the eye, instead, he focused on the emerald earring hanging from his ear.

"Steve?" Foolish asked. He could barely feel his limbs.

"My emotional support bear," The Technoblade said, little pig ears in his hair twitched as his jaw pointer a little to Foolish's right. With barely a move of his head, Foolish noticed what was the fluffy thing keeping him warm. A fully grown polar bear, softly breathing as it slept, "he likes ear scratches, I blame Philza and Ranboo for that. I'm Technoblade, but you probably know that," the host introduced himself as Foolish slowly moved his arm to scratch the bear behind his tiny ears, discovering that Thechnoblade's famous cape was currently wrapped around him, helping him keep warm.

"Foolish G. The God of Immortality, Sky and Oceans," he introduced himself, "I've indeed heard about you, Technoblade."

"And what is a god doing in my little anarchist commune?" The blade asked suddenly getting up and moving out of Foolish's eyesight, the right of his vision was just Steve, who was indeed rather happy with behind ear scratches he was receiving.

"Looking for help?" Foolish had nothing but two of his lives to lose, he could as well say it.

"Is there an anti-god government here now?" Technoblade almost sounded amused.

"Not really, it's just... even though I'm a god I'm not good at fighting, I swore off my violent days and people are kind of taking advantage of that, messing with my hard work, with me..."

"And you thought you'd ask me to kill them for you?" that sounded rather threatening.

"Not kill, just hang out around from time to time to spook them? Like if they think we're friends they might leave me alone?" This conversation was going bad way "I can... build something for you? I'm good at building. You saw Tubbo and Ranboo's mansion? I build it. If you need like... a separate house for Steve? Orafakemarriagetoavoidtaxes?" the last part was said very quickly and not necessarily was meant to say.

"Haeh?" Technoblade looked shocked, for the first time since he woke up Foolish saw him lose confidence. For a split second, he wasn't that threatening.

Once the confusion passed Technoblade laughed, loudly, and for a while. Steve gave his master (?was he ever tamed or did he enjoy the warmth and free food?) a puzzled look.

"That beats everything anyone ever used to get me to help them, I haven't laughed that much in a while. A marriage for taxes? There are no taxes here and I pity anyone who would try to tax me o my friends." That was it Foolish was going to lose his second life while trying to protect himself. "Achoo," suddenly the Blade sneezed. "Sorry, so why now? You've been here for a while."

"Ponk moved into my dessert, build a big red eyesore and put a cursed pumpkin on my head. At first, I was planning to take Sam out for a date but apparently, he isn't safe, at least that's what Tubbo said when I went for advice to him."

Techno laughed a bit more. "Why Tubbo? I never heard of him having any dating experiences."

"He and Ranboo are married aren't they?" Foolish asked still petting Steve. Techno's confused face was enough to answer "You had no idea?! It makes sense why they would... with Tubbo being a former president... I messed up. Please don't tell them I told you, knowing Tubbo he'll want another mansion, I can't do it, I hate chandeliers because of the last one I build him!"

"I won't tell them." Techno seemed to be confused at this reaction "I had my suspicions anyway, they spend too much time together for me to not be suspicious. What is your stand on governments?" the pink-haired warrior asked standing up and again disappearing behind Steve.

"Don't like them," Foolish said with a sigh of relief. "I destroyed a few back in my God of Death days..." he smiled fondly at old memories. No one would dare to put a pumpkin on him back then.

"Why did you stop fighting?" Techno asked giving Foolish a mug of tea. "I'm out of sugar, sorry. I would ask Phil for some but he went out and Ranboo is with his husband. Don't feel like going through their stuff."

"There is a limit to how much bloodshed one can handle, how many friends you can die because of your action, how many towns you can raise to the ground," he muttered looking at the dark liquid, it was warm, warm was nice, "I wonder, what is the Blood God's limit?"

"What is any other man's limit?" Techno said, "I know people call me that, I don't mind, it keeps some away on its own, but in the end, I'm just a man, I may not age but I can still be killed."

To say Foolish was shocked would be an understatement. He took nearly on everyone Dream brought to his realm, almost alone not counting an army of Dogs and Philza. He fought them amongst a rain of TNT and Wither's. That was beyond anything any mortal was supposed to be able to do. "I think there is a God who very much enjoys your actions," he said sipping the tea, it was bitter but warm. Steve was snoring again.

"You were there at the Red Ball of whatever?" Technoblade asked ignoring what he had said.

"Yes, I...."

"I'm sorry we couldn't stop them earlier," that was surprising. hearing the most feared person apologise...

"It's okay. I'm not a fan of dying but it's okay, everyone else survived and that's all that matters, the Egg cult is scattered to the four winds, some have left it even. In the end, I'd call the day a win."

"I see..."

For a while, they sat in silence, crackling of fire and Steve's snoring being the only noises in the room until Technoblade sneezed again.

"Do you want your cape back?" Foolish asked, "Steve's plenty warm."

Techno just nodded as he was passed the garment. "I take it you don't like cold."

"Not really, I prefer my summer home, it's in the desert, it's warm there."

"I see... do people often miss with your building projects?"

"Not recently, I don't think many people know where I live and I like it that way. Nice builds don't last long in these lands. But I'm glad I'm here. I made some new friends meet some old friends. It's not all bad here."

Techno just nodded, He looked a bit more like a fearsome warrior now that he had his cape on. "So you need help keeping it that way?"

"And maybe keeping people from requesting outlandish stuff, if possible." Now that the main subject was back the atmosphere turned awkward again.

"So I'll just need to hang out around you sometimes, glare at people if they bother you and be an 'I'm sorry I have a plan with Techno' excuse?"

"Yes?" Foolish muttered into his mug.

"Any relations I need to be aware of? Friends, enemies, family members?" Techno asked.

"Puffy is kind of my father, Eret I used to know a long time ago, we once faked a marriage, destroyed some cults together, doesn't seem to remember me, Tubbo... we're kind of cousins and Ranboo is his husband... most other people I'm rather neutral towards, don't like eggheads... Sam creeps me out lately... Tubbo said he cut off Ponk's arm, don't know if it's true. Dream... Dream is in prison so I guess we won't have to worry about him. Dream XD tends to avoid me." Foolish never really thought about his connections to people on the server. "I'd rather we not cause much bodily harm unless necessary."

Technoblade just nodded, voices were rather quiet ever since Mr God of Immortality Sea and Sky woke up, it was like they were coming to him through a lot of water, and they were much less intensive. That was a nice change. "Okay, so I help you and you build my dogs and bears a nicer kennel? I don't mind what Phil build but the herd outgrew it rather quickly. I hope we don't have to be too showy about it." he finally said.

"I hope you're not agreeing because of what happened at the Ball," Foolish looked at him rather seriously, at least as much as someone buried in blankets, leaning on and petting a bear could be.

"I'm doing it so Quackity stops flirting with me, and to gave bragging rights over Dream," Techno said mate factly, "Look at me chat, I have a Husband and the Teletubby is in prison..." Techno forced a joke out "a warning, I owe Dream a favour. That and voices are quieter near you, is it some part of you being a God?"

Foolish blinked, he didn't know many people with voices like Technoblade's. "I don't think so, I can bring down lightning, enrage the sea, cause sandstorms, nothing to do with voices."

"Hmm, it's getting dark." Technoblade noticed, "want to stay here or should I walk you back to your dessert?"

"I can stay here with Steve and start on that new kennel tomorrow," Foolish shrugged, he wasn't ready for another trek through the snow, "We can go to Eret when coming back to do Ranboo and Tubbo and sign wedding papers."

"Okay, I'll try to figure out somewhere to sleep for you," Techno said with a bit of a laugh at the last part, "and you better tell me about those governments and cults and cities you wrecked."

#dream smp #technoblade #dsmp foolish #technoblade & foolish #foolish gamers

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