#Honestly It might decide to alter their human bodies too at some point
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Book Review 30 - The Seep by Chana Porter
Okay, the last of my ‘read because they’re short and I had a goal to catch up to’ books. I, honestly, did not care for this one at all, on a few different levels. Didactic to the point of condescension, in service to a message I consider kind of repulsive. Extremely high concept setting with all manner of profound changes and revelations about the human condition that are just ignored or end up being hopelessly muddled and confused. All of it ending up as basically disposable set dressing to a breakup story that, I mean, I’m sure other people it it compelling? But just left me rolling my eyes. And the whole thing just so profoundly soaked through with a sort of woo-ish Californian-as-an-insult sensibility that puts my teeth on edge.
So the book begins with an alien invasion, the ‘Seep’ arriving on and saturating Earth, infesting 90% of humanity as well as everything else. The alien infection brings about a revolution in consciousness, making everyone infected acutely aware of the interconnections between all things and leading to an instantaneous abolition of capitalism, nationalism, and all forms of hierarchy larger than a local Home Owners Association (who can still evict you if you let your lawn get too overgrown, this is portrayed as self-evidently moral and reasonable). The Seep also allows for full bodily autonomy and the altering of one’s body at will, and also seems to have just abolished scarcity – in return, it mostly just wants to hitch along for the ride and feel human emotions, and make people happy. The plot itself is about a Trina, a woman in San Francisco spiralling into complete mental and emotional collapse after her wife decides she wants to try childhood again, and get remade into an infant with her mind wiped to be raised from birth by a couple in France (her wife/our protagonist taking this as something of a betrayal and refusing to be her mother). After falling into depression for a while, she’s told that if she doesn’t get with the yardwork her house is going to get repossessed by the community, and goes on a cross-country soul-searching midlife crisis journey in order to find herself.
Look, I’m almost certainly being way too uncharitable – most of the reviews are very positive! - but this book just did not agree with me at all. Now part of this is just that when a book gets sold as ‘compelling drama in a near-utopian setting’ and then the setting is an incoherent mess that exists mostly as set dressing without any real thought to what any of it means (souls exist, apparently! So does reincarnation!) and the actual plot could have been set in the modern day with almost zero changes, I do feel kind of let down by the book. In fact setting it in the modern day would probably have made me like the book rather more, if only because the lack of absurdist sideshows might have kept the focus on Trina and sharpened up her journey some.
Though honestly, the way the book kind of wavers back and forth between, like, ‘grief and pain are fundamental parts of being human’ and ‘death is natural and good and trying too hard to avoid it and hold on to your life is aberrant and unhealthy, also kids these days have it too easy and it’s good to have to suffer a bit and have your life indelibly shaped by your body and identity” would definitely have left a bad taste in my mouth regardless.
It’s a bit of a shame, really – the book does gesture repeatedly at some fairly meaty issues (in a world without oppression, where you can change your body over the course of a slow afternoon, what do the identities we’ve structured society around mean?) But it just, really doesn’t do anything with that? And if the closest thing you have to a villain is basically Rachel Dolezal, is too much to ask for you to have, like, anything to say about race?
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Random Ghoul Ingo ramblings.
Really just a collection of ideas/ trivia for the AU. Also to reconfirm: Ingo turned in a Half-Ghoul via portal shenanigans, but Emmet is completely human and is unaware of this. Akari and Dawn are the same person.
- Do the humans in the Pokemon world have RC Cells?? For the sake of the story and my sanity, yes. Let’s pretend its an undiscovered bit of the body for now.
- Ingo isn’t quite good at masking his human food munching, especially in front of his brother who always makes sure he’s alright due to his ‘sickness’. He’s figured out a way to swallow small bits of food and pretend to chew nothing, but he’s only capable doing this with basic sandwiches and the like, anything with too much flavour will likely just make him sick on the spot. Although Emmet will try and stop him from eating if he keeps being sick.
- Emmet clings to him, a lot. He’s pretty much suffering from a severe case of separation anxiety. It makes sneaking out difficult.
- Emmet probably saw this mysterious Cannibal for himself while looking for Ingo. Traumatised him? A bit. But he became determined to find them no matter what.
- The Pokemon Centre Ingo was at when he first arrived were quite concerned when his arm healed back up in a few hours even when it should have been unsalvageable.
- Oh boy, when he slowly got into his old life again, Ingo became quickly aware of the fact that Gear Station was pretty much occupied by large amount of people every day. He’s usually alright, but when he gets slightly peckish he cannot stop drooling nor control his Kakugan. Which is why he sometimes wears an eye-patch.
- Ingo, probably a side effect of rarely eating back in Hisui, gets hungry a bit quicker than other ghouls do. And his ‘darker self’ likes to entertain the idea of binge eating.
- He also discovers coffee being edible like... A month later? Hoards jars of the stuff it to the point it has its own drawer.
- When was the first time Ingo activated his Kagune? It’s either a) an epic battle against some thugs trying to cart away stolen Pokemon from the city, probably some Team Rocket dudes, and upon being led to believe his brother was badly injured, activated it in desperation and rage. or b) he stubbed his toe too hard on his bed one day and the tail came out on instinct.
- Although he never admits it, Ingo does have a meat preference, younger men, about early 20′s. He’s a bit picky too. Not fond of hearts or brains. He loves the lower loin and crackling (basically cooked the skin during a mental break down and broke down further when he realised, oh fuck, this tastes good.) and he freaking loves ribs and a certain part of the back that he imagines is akin to a bbq steak. honestly, the man might have ended up as a gourmet in another ghoul au. might even try and sneak some meat in to cook at home, but his sanity isn’t quite gone yet and he really doesn’t want Emmet accidentally eating it.
- Ingo’s ‘Cooking Humans for Dummies Book’ is entertained.
- (He’ll especially never admit that his brother smells a lot more appetising than the others.)
- Ingo is absolutely stronger than he used to be, even more so with his Kagune, which lets him able to fight fully evolved Pokemon like Krookadile without assistance.
- He also feels awkward around his brother, who sorta decided to hunt down the Cannibal and invited his brother to join him.
- Ingo gets two masks. The first one was an altered gentlemen mask he stole from Nimbasa’s Theatre. The second? Well, he really needed a new mask, that old one barely covered the more unique features of his face that Emmet could absolutely spot if he gets close enough. Both only show one eye, which is his kakugan eye.
- This also means his depth perception gets a bit jank. How many times has Ingo run into a Stop sign? Yes.
- He also gets a black cloak/robe to wear. Maybe even stole or pulled strings for a voice modifier.
- Muscle memory is a pain. Especially when your Naruto running away from your brother, who in turn is Naruto running after you like some Lupin the Third episode.
- Ever since the first meal, his sanity has sloooowly been crumbling. His mission is cure himself of this ‘curse’ but he starts to fear that its not possible. He hates (enjoys) being a ghoul and decides that if he begins to teeter on sanity’s edge, he’ll vanish from the public for good. As much as he fears on leaving Emmet alone, he despairs at the thought of the last of Emmet’s mind breaking at the revelation that the brother he loved and looked up to was behind such atrocious acts. It’s better that he remembers Ingo for who he used to be, before he unravelled into this and tarnish that memory forever.
- Ingo does notice the empty bottles of alcohol as well as rarer strange white bottles that rattle that he finds in certain spots of the apartment, he remembers the first one he found that Emmet quickly hid as if he would be greatly ashamed if his brother found out. He never talked about it, but always reminded him that if he was ever ready, Ingo would be all ears.
- That last bit is probably why Ingo’s scared of the revelation. If Emmet finds out about him, he’d likely just... Break. But if he leaves with no warning, Emmet would probably descend back into despair. He’s stuck in a hard place.
- Ingo isn’t sure if his Pokemon are aware of his ‘hunts’, but he feels like Chandelure knows.
- Although it isn’t really possible, if Ingo ever somehow develops a Kakuja... Well, he’ll probably be as sane as Centipede Kaneki is. AKA, not very sane at all.
- Will Emmet ever accept Ingo as a ghoul..? Well, guess that depends :)
- A Bad End scenario? Ingo’s sanity just snapping and becoming the complete opposite, unusually cruel and uncaring with the appetite of a binge eater. Probably feeds his brother his food cause he’s a fucked up dude. (I should write a High Humanity Ingo and Zero Humanity Ingo for comparison.)
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Identity In Ink
Welp, I did a thing! Probably one of only two I’ll be able to do this month, but I DID IT! This one’s for the “Tattoo” prompt, and mostly 18-focused and a shortie, but it’s a concept I’ve discussed with people in the past: Basically, did Gero ever do anything to mark his creations, and if so, how would they deal with that. And this one just kinda flowed out.
Feel free to show some love or leave feedback in the links too!
FF.net link
AO3 link
Without further ado, here we go.
Sometimes, she couldn't help but let it bother her.
It was a small thing. Something hidden away, beneath clothing, able to be put out of sight, and thus out of mind. But since she'd moved here... since she'd spent more time with her husband on the beach... it was becoming harder to ignore.
"Hmm.." 18 stood in front of the bedroom mirror, her pajama shorts pulled down a bit as she gazed at her hip, fingers idly tracing the object of her discomfort. There, on her left hip, was a small tattoo of the Red Ribbon logo.
It really shouldn't have bothered her, she knew; she'd made her peace with that part of her life a couple of years ago, around the same time she'd finally allowed herself to accept she'd had feelings for her best friend. But still, it reminded her of a time when she hadn't been so free. Reminded her that everything she used to be had been stolen away from her. Reminded her of that twisted old man and his "experiments"...
"Hey babe, you ok?"
18 inhaled sharply and let go of the shorts, the elastic snapping back against her as she spun to face her questioner, her expression cool as ice. "Do I look like I'm in trouble, dear?"
Krillin frowned, tugging at the loose shirt that served as his pajama top. "Well... yes, honestly. You can fool a lot of other folks, 18, but I know when something's bothering you." He pointed at the mirror behind her. "Plus I kinda caught you staring at that for a while."
18 closed her icy blue eyes and exhaled sharply through her nose. "Picking up habits from the old man again, are we?"
"Hey now, come on," he protested. "You're my wife and the mother of my child, who is finally asleep, might I add. But I'm allowed to look in our bedroom."
18 crossed her arms and huffed. "Peeping tom."
Krillin laughed as he noticed the faintest hint of a smile on his wife's lips. "Okay, okay, my bad." He threw his hands up in mock despair. "Spare me, oh mighty goddess of Kame Island."
She opened one eye and peered at him. "Hmm... offer me tribute and I'll consider it."
Krillin took a step forward and stood on his tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. "Is that better, mistress?"
18 felt her face flush. "N-no... not good enough." Her blush deepened as she felt his hand cup her cheek and bring her face to meet his, her heart skipping a beat as he began to place feather-soft kisses on her lips. She loved this feeling. It was almost enough to make her forget-
She broke off the kisses and sighed deeply again. "Okay... okay yeah, there is something that's been bothering me."
"Ahhh, I figured." He took her hand in his. "What's bugging you, hon? Is it that... mark again?"
She nodded. "Mhm. Just seems so dumb. I know that's not who I am, I know I'm more than that, but sometimes when I see it, it just reminds me of before. Back when I really thought I'd lost my humanity. When I thought it was too late."
Krillin frowned. "Babe, if it bothers you that much, we can try to do something about it." He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. "We can always see about getting it removed."
18 snorted. "Like we can afford that? Those procedures aren't cheap, you know. Besides, I doubt there are any places that do that who have a laser remotely strong enough to work on my skin."
Krillin shrugged. "Fair enough, I suppose." He rubbed his chin for a moment. "Have you considered covering it up with something else, then?"
18 rubbed her forehead. "Maybe... I dunno. I'm not sure what I'd put there even if I could, really." She sat silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. "I think... I think I'm gonna go check on Marron real quick." She gave her husband a pat on the head as she headed out the door. "Back in a sec."
She tiptoed across the hall to her daughter's room, the door now adorned with letters spelling out the little one's name, turning the knob as quietly as she could. She only opened it wide enough to slip in, and shut the door behind her; no sense risking her baby girl waking up when she could see just fine in the dark, after all. She took the final two steps to the crib nestled in the middle of the room and smiled.
There lay her baby girl, sound asleep. Her blonde curls splayed out on her pillow, her tiny fist balled up on her chubby little cheek, little noseless face the picture of angelic calm as her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath. 18 reached out and brushed her other cheek softly, and sighed with content.
Little Marron had only recently reached an age where they'd felt comfortable letting her have her own room, and even then it was reluctantly. But between needing a larger crib, and frankly no small amount of frustration, they'd decided it was time. Little Marron hadn't initially been a fan, being quite fussy the first few nights; her father had been as well, and 18 rather appreciated the irony of her husband wanting a return to their intimacy yet also being grumpy about not having Marron with them. She understood though. Marron was one of the only two people whose mere presence seemed to have a calming effect on her. She could be in the worst of moods, but the moment that baby girl cooed at her, it all seemed to drift away as she got lost in those big dark eyes.
18 rested her cheek on her arm as she watched her baby sleep. Her baby. The idea had felt so impossible not so long ago. She'd been sure, positive, that all the alterations to her body would have made her unable to conceive. Gero hadn't seemed the type to leave behind anything that didn't fit his uses, after all. And it's not as if she and Krillin had bothered with precautions for well over a year without consequence. 18 allowed herself an admittedly lecherous smirk at the memories.
But then, one day, it'd happened. The news had shocked both of them, and been a source of both happiness and fear for them as well. But the moment their little bundle of love had come into the world, all that fear seemed to vanish in an instant. She's been so very small, with her mother's soft blonde hair and her father's eyes and features. There was no doubt she was theirs, and Krillin opined that she was the physical manifestation of their love. She'd initially snorted derisively and called him sappy, but as she held their little bundle, she couldn't help but quietly agree.
The tiny form in front of her stretched and yawned, and her heart melted. She was so sweet and innocent... so much so that 18 could find it hard to believe she came from her. She'd been meant to be an assassin, a killer, but now all she wanted was to protect this little angel. 18 smiled and leaned down, placing a feather-soft kiss on her baby's head before quietly opening the door backing out into the hall, gently shutting it behind her.
"She really is amazing, huh?" 18 stiffened and turned to see Krillin leaning against their doorway, grinning.
"Amazing is an understatement. Sometimes I still can't believe that we... that I-"
Krillin straightened and stepped toward her, shushing her. "You best start believing it, 18. She's ours." He took her hand and kissed it softly and smiled as she sighed, contentedly. "You feeling better now?"
"Yeah, I suppose so," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "Feels kinda silly now, letting something like that get to me as much as it did."
He rubbed her back softly. "Nah, it's understandable hon, believe me. So... any ideas on what you might wanna cover that up with?"
18 glanced over at her daughter's door once more. She was her second chance, the ultimate proof of her humanity. The center of her world. Her eyes fell to the plaque on the door, taking in the letters of her daughter's name. 'M-A-R-R...'.
She smiled. "Yeah... I actually do."
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Once 18 had decided on her new design, Krillin had called up Bulma to see is she's had any ideas on how they could get this done; 18's skin was near-unbreakable, after all, and no normal needle was up to the task. Bulma had eagerly agreed to be of assistance and told them to come over the next day.
It had taken a moment for 18 to brace herself, going back into a sterile lab, laying down on a table, but the procedure had been shockingly swift, a matter of minutes, and it was over before she's realized. She handled it well, all things considered, though Krillin's hand was a bit sore by the time it was over. He smiled at her. "See? That wasn't too bad." He leaned over and gently pecked her nose. "I'm proud of you, babe."
18 nodded and hopped off the slab, walking over to the mirror to examine the new ink, as Krillin turned to speak to Bulma.
"Thanks for the assist, Bulma," Krillin said. "This really means a lot."
The blue-haired Capsule Corp heiress brushed her gloves off on her overalls and lifted her face shield. "Oh, no worries. I had a free day today, and I'd been meaning to test this puppy out." She patted the side of the machine. "I got a custom order from a dinosaur rancher asking for something capable of inking numbers into his livestock, but he never showed up with a test subject so I never got to see if it worked. Just a matter of coding in the design and letting the computer do its thing!"
Krillin blinked. "Wait, did you just use my wife as a guinea pig?"
The heiress chuckled and waved him off. "Don't think of it like that. I never would have offered to do this if I wasn't 100% sure it was safe."
"I gotta admit, I never knew there were dinosaur ranchers out there..."
"Oh... yeah." Bulma scratched her cheek. "I mean, there aren't anymore, but..."
He raised his eyebrows. Oh. I...oh."
"Yeeeeah." She laughed nervously. "Turns out there's probably a reason that profession isn't very common, huh?" She glanced over at 18. "So, whaddya think?"
18 gazed at the small tattoo in the mirror. The red ribbon had been altered to resemble a small red butterfly, and letters added in the same font to now read "MARRON". It was a minor change, but it suited her perfectly. Red Ribbon's mark had been a symbol of the humanity stolen from her; this would be a reminder of what had proven to her that they never had.
She felt Krillin's hand slip into hers and smiled, warmly.
"It's perfect."
#chestnutfest2k21#chestnutisland#Krillin#Android 18#K18#Kuripachi#Android18#Android Eighteen#Dragon Ball#Dragon Ball Z#Dragon Ball Super#DB#DBZ#DBS#Dragonball#Dragonball Z
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Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch 12)
Chapter Twelve: Lab Work (HawksxGN!Reader)
Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!
Warnings:
⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.
⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga
Next Chapter : Chapter Guide
“Thanks for coming out to meet with me again,” Dr. Garaki smiles pleasantly at you as you take a seat across from him in his office. His chair was much taller than yours to make up for his short stature. The expensive microscope and box of blood samples from your previous visit were nowhere in sight. The only thing on top of the desk was a copy of the proposal you had emailed him a few days before. The doctor puts a hand on top of the papers. “I’d like to talk about this.” You nod your head, trying to read the man’s face to predict how the conversation might go. You had to be ready for anything.
“I’ve never read a proposal quite like this before,” Dr. Garaki taps a finger on top of the document. “You made a lot of bold assumptions.”
You keep a look of confidence on your face as you reply. He still hadn’t made any indication about how he felt about the wild hypotheses you’d written for him. He just had the same cheerful smile on his face. "What you showed me the last time I was here was several steps ahead of any of the current research I could find,” you explain calmly. “Without knowing what was in that mystery fluid you used, I had to fill in some blanks.”
The doctor stayed silent for a moment and you hoped that he wasn’t about to throw you out for ignoring basic scientific standards and stepping into the realm of mad science. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever submit such an absurd proposal, but Dr. Garaki seemed like an odd enough man to actually appreciate it.
“You believe I have access to samples of All For One’s DNA.” The doctor finally speaks.
“No,” you still manage to keep your voice level. “Well, I honestly don’t know. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about for a while. All For One is the only true example of a person possessing multiple quirks. Because of that, it stands to reason that his ability to give and receive quirks, and therefore his actual DNA, could be the key to creating Nomus.”
The doctor continues to stare you down. “And if I DID have access to All For One’s DNA, you think the next logical step…”
“…is to try and create a Nomu ourselves, yes.” You finish the sentence for him, praying that it would make the statement sound less insane if you were the one to say it. The doctor raises his eyebrows, the unreadable smile still on his face.
“I obviously made a lot of assumptions about how to accomplish that task too. Plus, it would definitely be unethical to do human trials,” you press on. “But besides the most recent attack in Kyushu, the Nomus themselves hardly seem human anyway. Perhaps the human component is small enough that simply using All For One’s quirk to splice human DNA samples together is enough. We would just need to create some sort of vessel to hold all that power”
“And the applications for such research?” The doctor continues to question you even though you must sound like you’re out of your mind by now.
“Limitless,” you declare. “If we can understand the way in which quirks mutate or combine over time, we can eliminate the weaknesses and drawbacks of certain quirks. Take the number one hero for example. Endeavor’s body clearly has a heat threshold. I noticed it in his fight with that high-end Nomu. He’d be unstoppable if he also had a quirk of heat-resistance or something. And the way things are going now, quirks are getting stronger and more complicated. The number of people born with quirks that cause damage to their body or affect their quality of life is increasing. We could solve that problem completely if we understood quirk inheritance on a microscopic level.”
“You sound like a true advocate of science,” the doctor nods. “Some people might question the morality of genetically modifying, enhancing, or manipulating quirks though.”
“I’m just saying what would be possible,” you shrug, “What people are able to legally do with that information would be up for debate when the time comes, but that’s nothing new in the field of science”
“True, true!” The doctor nods his head in agreement. “And like you mentioned, there are a lot of assumptions we need to address before actually going through with a proposal like this.” He slaps his hand on top of the document again before hopping out of his chair. “I’ve been thinking of how we can utilize YOUR quirk in my lab,” he beckons for you to get up and follow him. “I understand you can observe information about your surroundings in extreme detail.”
“Yeah,” you confirm the information while following him out of his office and through the halls of his hospital. He stops at what appears to be a supply closet and unlocks the door with a key he pulls from his pocket. You were surprised to see the small room contained a hidden elevator.
“This is for employees only,” the doctor explains once you’re both inside. He pushes the single unmarked button and the doors slide close. You assumed the elevator went down because when the doors opened back up, you were in a dimly lit basement laboratory. It was set up like most of the other labs you’d been in before, but there was just something a little creepier about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“Nobody else is down here?” You ask as you continue to look around.
“This is actually a secondary lab,” Dr. Garaki tells you. “My main lab is in a different location.” The strangeness of the situation continued to build, but you kept your feelings to yourself. There’d been something off about the doctor since the first time you’d met him, and now you were committed to figuring out what it was.
“I don’t mind using my quirk,” you tell him, “but the length of time I’m able to use it is pretty limited.”
“Limitations can be overcome,” the doctor chuckles before hurrying over to one of the work stations where a microscope was set up next to a giant monitor. “A lot of people don’t realize their quirks can work harder and longer with a certain type of fuel to keep them going.”
“What like Popeye and his spinach?” you joke.
“Exactly like that!” the doctor nods enthusiastically, his large glasses making his eyes look bigger than they actually are. “If we monitor your brain activity while you use your quirk, and take blood samples before and after, we could learn a lot. You should also try to use your quirk every day. Make a note if there’s a difference when you use your quirk in the morning or in the evening, or if anything changes depending on what you eat or the type of weather.” You can’t help but laugh.
“You actually want me to do that?” you ask.
“Just a suggestion,” he shrugs. “I would like to try a couple things today though, if you’re up to it.”
“Depends on the couple things, I guess,” you say hesitantly. He explained that he wanted you to use your quirk to watch videos on one of the computer monitors in one minute intervals. Each minute long session would be under a different condition and there would be a short test between each condition to record how much information you’d observed with your quirk. As your quirk only lasted about 5 minutes, he decided to do four tests in order to have the best results. The first test would be the control. The second test would be taken with noise canceling headphones in order to see if the number of visual details increased if sound was taken away. The third test would be taken while standing between two heaters to see if temperature made a difference. The fourth test would be taken while jogging on a treadmill to see if physical exertion effected the results. The doctor sat you in a chair in front of the monitor for the first test and pressed play. Next thing you knew you were being shaken awake by the doctor. You open your eyes and realize that you’re on the ground.
“Oh thank goodness! You’re awake!” The doctor sighs in relief. “You must’ve overexerted yourself. You had a dizzy spell and passed out after the last test.” You blink a few times and glance around the lab, trying to remember what happened, but of course you couldn’t. You’d just lost consciousness after using your quirk, so all the information you’d gathered had been wiped from your mind. You’d always been a bit apprehensive of the doctor, but now you were honestly feeling scared. Never in your life had something like this happened, so why would it happen now?
“Are you feeling better now?” the doctor asks, “Can you stand up?” You take a deep breath and nod your head. You felt perfectly fine aside from the memory loss which you were used to.
“Well, I guess I hit my limit for today,” you laugh even though you were still creeped out. “Was there at least any interesting results from the tests?”
“You observed a lot more than I imagined!” The doctor nods his head enthusiastically. “Although the amount of information you recalled from each test was about the same.”
“Would you mind if I look at the notes?” you ask as casually as you can. The doctor frowns.
“Unfortunately I didn’t take notes,” he tells you. “I used a timer to record how long it took you to describe everything you observed.”
“I see,” you say calmly before shrugging. “Oh well. Was there anything else you wanted to do with me today?”
“No, no!” The doctor waves his hands, “Of course not. You should get some rest. Are you going to be all right getting all the way home? Perhaps one of the doctors upstairs can take a look at you.”
“That’s okay,” you smile appreciatively. “I’m actually staying at a friend’s place in the city today. I can rest there and go home in the morning.” The doctor nods in understanding as you both head to the elevator and go back up to the main hospital. He walks you to the door and waves goodbye, promising to keep in touch so that you can make plans to meet again soon. As soon as you’re outside, you reach into your bag to get your phone only to find that it wasn’t in the pocket you normally kept it in. Where you just being paranoid now? You open up your messages and type one to Hawks that asked “Where are you?” Once he answers, you hail a taxi, not caring that a bus or train would be cheaper. You wanted to get to your boyfriend as fast as possible.
#bnha x reader#mha x reader#Keigo Takami X Reader#Hawks x reader#Keigo takami#hawks#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#my writing
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Cyprus brings shampoo to Rotterdam 2021
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I FELL IN LOVE, I FELL IN LOVE, I GAVE MY HEART TO PRODUCT PLACEMENT.
Though I do see where they come from. Everyone from Panik Records, from her to Eleni Foureira featuring Perfectil on the “Fuego” MV, gonna need that sweet sweet money all of the time. But has Greece’s economy not really recovered for them to constantly need to advertise products on music videos or am I just losing my mind overthinking things?
Eitherway, this review may or may not appear before or during their rehearsal day, so see how do I make a fool of myself by trying to estimate Cyprus’s chances!
ARTIST & ENTRY INFO
This year we have a 26 year old Elena Tsagrinou from Greece here (the way they were last represented by a somewhat Cypriot on 2017?). She did music early on in her age, also participated in the Greek version of Got Talent. Though, before breaking out as a solo pop sensation in ways you cannot imagine, she used to be in a pop band OtherView. Strangely enough, I’ve heard of them because of this song below but I could’ve NEVER estimated it was her and never could have I predicted she would land herself a Eurovision entrance all alone:
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The band has had quite a few successful enough singles with her, she did some music shows participation and hosting, her band switched labels midway through (guess into which one they eventually landed, hint: some of the screenshots in this review have this peculiar logo), and in 2018, she had to “withdraw” from the group to go ahead and pursue the aforementioned solo career, somewhat. She continued doing a lot of shows (particularly seen on the MAD music channel related events), and doesn’t have as many singles as she had with OtherView right now, but she’s possibly well on her way to blossom as an artiste. Some of those reading (lol who am I kidding who even reads these) may be familiar with this little song of hers:
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You’ve heard way too many things about “El Diablo”, her 2021 entry, so idk if I feel like explaining the technical side of things all by myself or you already know everything. But in these reviews I repeat everyone else regardless, so let me just say that “El Diablo” is an obvious pop song, with a lot of Swedish related touches to it, because at least one person on this song also worked on Alvaro Estrella’s Melodifestivalen 2021 entry that glorifies at least a handful of the same cliches that “El Diablo” does lyrically. Dear Eurovision lyricists, you can use more foreign languages than Spanish for your obligatory foreign language incorporations, thanks~
Although I’m not sure about whether it is more Laurell Barker’s fault as much as it is Joker Thörnfeldt’s, but it’s easier to blame them equally, because the former probably came up with “ta-taco, tamale” and the latter couldn’t get enough of the word “mamacita” they used for the aforementioned Melodifestivalen entry.
Anyway, the lyrics, from what I get, is that she’s in love with an eeeevil guy because he’s sweet talking her, they do some sexy stuff together (presumably), pour sauce on their bodies for no explicit reason other than “obligatory-foreign-reference-itis”, she’s breaking the rules (and idk if it was “mama-mamacita” telling her to do it), got the icy edges that the spicy is melting for her, throws eyelashes on the floor when she’s got no wigs to throw (but that doesn’t matter because even without a wig, she can flip her hair and make him look twice), and there’s as much as you need to know about the song’s lyrics as I feel like I should show to you, because eh. Eurovision has suffered from worse cookie-cutter lyricism through the years, “El Diablo” is painful but not the worst.
REVIEW
But I do like the song somewhat!
“El Diablo” was initially compared to Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” upon release, and I totally kind of see why, because in all the right spots you can absolutely hum over the chorus to that over the one of “El Diablo”’s, it just exchanges gratuitous French translation of one of the already sung lines on the bridge for obligatory inserted Spanish terms just for the sake of being trendy with the crowds of the nowadays, because as we learned nothing these days, having a lot of Spanish in your song is apparently trendy. And Elena does nothing absolutely batshit insane on the music video (other than advertising) - no lapdance for the devil Lil Nas X style, no being forced into a bath, no person to sell her body to (not even the titular diablo), no dancers that rise out of their Christian sleep pods. Just Elena singing behind lots and lots of trash bin bag wrap.
Honestly the bigger issue for me than the song being “sAtAnIc because it is called “the DEVIL!!!”, aside from the lyrics, is that the MV does not come with any forewarning whatsoever for the people that are seizure prone when they see strobe lights? And that happens for some extended periods of this clip? I know you are indulged in your advertising and good for you but don’t just care for the companies that pay you if you use their products, do care about people’s wellbeings too, sometime.
But enough about the MV.
The song is decently sounding. It has interesting uses of what sounds like hi-hats during the verses (e.g.: a moment when this happens for the first time on the song is after Elena sings “tonight we’re gonna burn in a par-tY” the second time, and then there’s something that sounds soaring - that’s what I think that the hi-hats did.). It also has some sort of a synth piano on the second verse to boost the song’s sound rather than just relying on 808s and beats. I quite like how the chorus is so instant somehow, idk why but it is for me. Might have a gripe with that childish choir singing “I LOVE EL DIAB-LO” in the tune of standard kindergarten children teasing tune (aka ”NA NA NA BOO BOO”), as well as the constant breathing sounds, but they don’t distract me from generally “fucking” with this song, lol. It’s just that likeable imo.
I just can’t cope with the fact that Cyprus can’t seem to dare to go at least a little bit original with their song, yanno? Ever since 2019 they were called out as being a ripoff of something... hell, everyone since 2016 except Eleni was a ripoff of something. Alter Ego? “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers. Gravity? “Human” by Rag’n’Bone Man. Replay? “Fuego” itself. Running? “Lose Control”, Meduza x Becky Hill. Now we have a Lady Gaga song wannabe that even caught the attention of another singer that the music video looked like it was ripping off, and the Eurofandom caught up in hysterics:
Heads up, folks: not EVERY short haired blonde with messy hair, silvery tank top and shortpants that writhes on the floor is a Zara Larsson clone. And I don’t know who stirred controversy first - her or the fans - but this was ridiculous to see, even for me.
Although for a second I saw where they were coming from.
Now see why I want Cyprus to go original for at least once? Because I guess that the way “Fuego” was conjured up, it brought Cyprus so much success with how the package was, how Eleni sold it, and how the song sounded. You know the first thing of everything potentially going wrong for you later on is if you find the formula you’ve been looking for, but you proceed to be using the exact same formula that got you this far in the first place, without realizing what was it in the formula that you needed to bank on to further to make it click, but instead proceed to copy everything like it was an easy, fill-in-the-blank form. You can and should do better than that.
Though that doesn’t stop me from ranking it 11th this year.
Thing is, I really expected it to be the one female pop song of the year I would have the constant impulsive need to replay, replay, yeah. Ever since the chaotic entry MV drop that occured on some random-ass Cypriot TV show where three guys talked a lot (and before that, we got a cooking show), and kept growing increasingly agitated that no one is liking their show, until at some point one of them erupted in “IN TWU MEENETS... EL DIABLO... ON UR TEEVEE”; I was really devastated I couldn’t be able to break the replay button because of Panik Records deciding to rather benefit for themselves to have the MV on their app, then on Youtube, THEN on Spotify in that order. So I listened to a few video rips that I received / had for myself, and it was a fun time... until I realized the desire to play it declined much faster than I thought it would when it actually dropped on Spotify, oops. So I can’t really let myself rank it higher, when there are at least some catchier female bangers with better overall sound, better lyrics, and better multiple-replay factor. But I can’t really settle for a much lower rank for her than 11th, anyway. Girlbanger 2021 power y’all!
That and vocally she’s actually not that bad, even if she has shown up singing her song drunk in a handful of Instastories for some event of some party house, and at the time people overreacted, but I think that at least a large audience of those same people has collectively dropped their “Cyprus obvious NQ” talks come the pre-parties.
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Panik Records, when will you put the yeehaw El Diablo on streaming? Now THAT’S a version that has replay value, and I might never get bored of it instead :(
Approval factor: Yeah, there exists some for me in it
Follow-up factor: CyBC did one of the nastiest in terms of following up their 2020 arc of “Bring Your Artist Back for Revenge Year” that was 2021, straight up ditching Sandro probably right after Eurovision was done (well it doesn’t look like the case because CyBC published a statement later, but I sense that it might’ve been the case), because “Running” wasn’t doing so well with the “YAS QUEEN” branch of the Eurofandom. Which sucks because Sandro would’ve actually been down to be asked again for Eurovision, as he revealed it to NikkieTutorials during many of her interviews with last year’s class of. “Agreement from both parties” my ass, unless Sandro secretly realized that like Tom Leeb, he was too busy for 2021 Eurovision, which I doubt. It actually sucks imo that Sandro can probably be considered as even a forever non-returnee, because Sandro is more of German roots than Greek, and if we learned anything about the Mukuchyangate 2021, is that Germany will never send a returning artist, at least one that didn’t represent their country first and foremost. So Greece could only ask Sandro nicely only if the contest comes on to Germany, I guess? How do you think they decided on getting Stefania, who still ever so regularly appears on Dutch music, to represent them this year? So on that regard the follow-up from CyBC stinks, eventhough I think that entrywise the follow-up was rather decent, at least in the usual Cypriot way of sending female pop (going from “Replay” to “El Diablo” which I like more than “replay”), and eventhough I’m falling out of the hype for Cyprus I once used to have, their 2015-2021 entry streak had entries that I largely feel positive for overall, so in that regard, the follow up is decent.
Qualification factor: In a year of Semi 1 Female Banger Slaughterhouse, Elena goes out in my eyes with several scratches, but not enough to completely kill her chances. If anything, given the divisiveness of Ireland’s rehearsals, Elena is likely to obliterate any last memory of Lesley Roy any first time viewer has ever had, except for her stage graphics. Even if Elena’s staging will not be as mindblowingly cartooney as the last, once a bop comes on, everyone forgets the slower song and gives into the bop, at least that’s how the draws work when choosing what insignificant song to put on 2nd and wedge in between the opening banger and some lesser-key banger, right? I know that “Replay” barely qualified, but I find “El Diablo” slightly better, and it all goes well, it will barely just as qualify as well. Because in a Semi 1 Female Banger Slaughterhouse, she can’t be the losing one, really.
INTERNAL CORNER
I already told everything that was noteworthy about Elena’s journey in previous sections, honestly.
• That I said that CyBC likely ditched Sandro right after cancellation just like Hooverphonic ditched “Release Me” should they have had a chance to keep or toss their entry. It doesn’t present itself as the case, but I just feel like it is.
• That the song was revealed on a Cypriot talkshow where three dudes were aware that we were waiting for “El Diablo”, trying to throw some gratuitous English our way, hating that we didn’t like our show, but promising that “El Diablo” MV will be shown in “TWU MEENETS”, which wasn’t but worth the wait eh?
• That people were cackling at Zara Larsson joining in the talks of Elena’s MV having aspects of her own song’s MV plagiarized.
• That Elena performed her song in a private-ish event when drunk and having heaps of fun and people cried that it was gonna be a NQ.
And do I really need to elaborate about the local Cypriot church scandal? It just so happened that a bunch of people read into a song’s title so much, thought it was rude of their country to sing about the devil (eventhough the bigger offenses made here is the gratuitous Spanish more than anything), and hoped that the broadcaster will disqualify the very song they okayed to be internally chosen because they are displeased with it - and if it’s not disqualified, they even threatened to burn the headquarters down. No, really. That’s like the most amusing part of that whole spectacle. Imagine burning a broadcaster headquarters down for a song... if I did it for every favourite of mine that lost to other broadcasters, the broadcasters would run out of locations to rent, because everything else good is pre-occupied or the ashes of their lost headquarters staring back at them.
Imagine being toxicly Christian in 2021... How long until Elena’s face gets photoshopped on the main protagoniste of The Unholy?
ANY LAST WORDS?
Even if I’m with this song, part of me kind of wants me to fail to make Cyprus realize that their formula is starting to wear thin and they got to be somewhat of a versatile nation in Eurovision if they want to be on the radar of not just one specific niche. But then again, they learned nothing when they flopped with Tamta, because she sneakily qualified as opposed to failing even harder than Tulia, ah well. Will they ever learn?
But why would I openly wish this to a top 11 song of mine, oh dear. Good luck Elena, may God be on your side, I guess. :P
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You and Me...
Chapter 12
***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.
***Chapter Warnings*** Therapy session, talk of trauma and trauma-related repercussions, mild talk of nightmares/night terrors, talk of flashbacks, language probably, Hint of body insecurities due to rape. Suggested discussion of rape. I think that’s pretty much it.
Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader
Word Count: 3151 (sorry this one is a little long)
A/N: Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. This is something I actually did and witness, and I realize this one might be hard to read because it is a little heavy.
Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…
Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!
***MASTERLIST***
***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***
A short three hours later you found yourself sitting in a small clean room on a small deep grey couch. Two end tables on each end dark oak wood and a coffee table in front of you to match. The carpets are also dark grey. Certificates lined the walls, showing off different degrees, and other accomplishments of the therapist you were here to see. A large window overlooking downtown Austin across from you, and in front of it a large chair and an end table to match other furniture in the room.
A younger woman, Dr. Melissa Johnson, who insisted on everyone being on a first-name basis with each other in order to make Jensen feel more comfortable, sitting in the large chair in front of the window, her clipboard in hand, listening closely to everything Jensen had to say.
You knew this wouldn’t be an easy visit for him, and honestly, he was doing better than you thought he would. He was much calmer than you think you would be in that situation.
Melissa hadn’t rushed him or pushed him, she simply said. “Okay, Jensen, let’s start from the beginning.”
That’s where you found yourself now.
Jensen was sitting on the other end of the small couch to your left, as you listened to things that they had done to him, things you only thought happened to people in horror movies. A tape recorder was going on the coffee table. It was more horrific than you thought. The things they did to him made it was hard to keep your breakfast down.
You were trying not to let it show on your face. He was doing so well with opening up and finally telling what had happened to him. Not without some convincing that he was in a safe, judgment-free space, but still, you didn’t want him to see you get upset, and then in turn get upset or feel like you were judging him in any way. He was so vulnerable right now. He didn’t need you to be weak.
"Then the next time I came to myself I was in the hospital, and Jared was sleeping on the small couch in the room," he said, shaking so hard you could almost hear his teeth chattering, a light sheen of sweat dripping down his face that he quickly wiped away.
You knew it was incredibly hard for him to tell that story. Hell, you don't know if you would have been able to go into detail that way.
Once he started talking though it just seemed to flow out of him and keep coming, gruesome detail after gruesome detail.
Melissa put the clipboard down on the table and looked at the two of you.
“How are you doing now that you're out of the hospital? How are you feeling? Something obviously convinced you to come and see me today. Help me to understand where you're at right now.”
Jensen cleared his throat and set up straighter in the corner of the couch, hands nervously running up and down his knees. His eyes shifting uncomfortably around the room. He finally just shook his head, not answering anyone for a long time. She gave him time, and you did as well. Though you could literally feel your heart racing in your ears.
“I…. I don’t… I don’t really know how to explain it,” he said, shaking his head. You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, but you weren’t about to say a damn thing.
"Jensen, you went through quite a trauma. Some things are going to come to the surface, the nightmares, night terrors, flashbacks. That's all part of experiencing any sort of trauma. It's your brain's way of dealing with unnatural things. Things that are traumatic. Hallucinations have even been reported in some cases. If you're having any of those things, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Something obviously made you decide to come to see me today... I can’t help you unless you open up to me. This is a safe space, remember."
Jensen took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All of it, I’m having all of it... Everything you described, and it’s all so fucking real.”
Your heart broke at that moment. You wanted more than anything to reach out and at least grab his hand, and even started to, but stopped yourself.
Melissa noticed your movement. She paused and looked at the two of you for a moment. Taking a note at the distance between you on the couch.
“Is it worse when you are alone or does it not really make a difference either way?” she asked. Jensen took a deep breath, trying to ground himself.
“It’s worse when I’m alone. That’s why I’m staying with Y/N. She was at the hospital with me. We’ve been together ever since.”
Melissa nodded her head knowingly. Jensen was still shaking lightly but was calming down now considerably.
"I'm an expert in this sort of trauma. I see a lot of people that have gone through similar traumas as yourself. Then I see some that didn't have such violent traumas. I want you to remember this, everyone deals with things differently. Everyone’s process of healing and the time it takes them to do so is different, and there is no wrong way to do this. Your experience was very violent.”
Jensen sat chewing on his lower lips, staring at the floor. He looked exhausted, and you were ready to get him out of there, get him back to your apartment where you knew he was safe, you knew he needed to do this, but watching him work through it wasn’t easy.
“I need to ask you a few questions, some of these may make you a little uncomfortable, but it’s important that if you answer them you do it honestly. They're going to be kind of personal," she said.
Jensen just nodded his head. You had learned him well enough by now to know that was something he did when he was trying to deflect. Just going through the motions, but not really present in the conversation.
He did it a lot lately.
“Jensen, are you and Y/N in a relationship,” she asks, and you tried to hide your widened eyed expression from Jensen.
Since that day in the hospital, you had never spoken about your feelings for each other again, and you didn’t really know where you stood together, but a relationship wasn’t even in the cards rights now for either of you.
“I’d like to be, but I don’t know if I can be. I know I can’t live without her, and I have feelings for her, and I know she does for me, but we’ve never labeled anything. Everything has just been so…”
Jensen let his words fall away, looking at you, his eyes distance and numb, his gaze unfocused and tired.
“Y/N, do you want to be in a relationship with Jensen?” she asked, and you were still slightly stunned that he even wanted to be in a relationship with you.
“Yeah... I mean, of course, I would, but I don’t want to push him into something that he’s not ready for you to know?” you tell her.
Jensen licked his lips nervously and fidgeted a little in his seat.
“Figure it out guys, don’t be afraid to talk about your feelings for each other. I don’t think it would be a bad idea personally. I can see something between you. Even though you hadn’t said anything before this point in our session. You like each other, and I think it can help him heal, as well as you, because it’s hard to watch someone you care about go through something so hard.”
Jensen nodded his head, looking back down at his lap again.
Melissa picked up her clipboard again, eyeing Jensen carefully.
"Jensen, this might be hard to answer, but since you were attacked have you been intimate with anyone?" she asked.
Your eyes got wider, you hadn't expected that question, and apparently neither had Jensen. He was looking at her with a similar expression on his face.
"I'm sorry... What?" he stuttered, looking at her like she was speaking a foreign language.
She smiled gently at him, not surprised seemingly at all by his reaction.
"What I mean is since your attack have you had sex with anyone?" she said calmly.
Poor Jensen looked like he'd been nailed in the face with a frying pan. You sat there bug-eyed and not saying a word. The answer was not no, but hell no, you didn't expect her to ask that. Obviously, he was in no shape to have any sort of contact in that manner with another human.
"Uh... She... She's.. Not exactly my “partner”...I," Jensen stammered, trying to regain his composure, his mind obviously going straight to you. That took you again by surprise. "We weren't sleeping with each other before this happened, and we haven't started now."
He still looked taken aback, and would not look at you if you paid him to do it, keeping contact with the woman sitting across from him.
"Okay," she said, nodding her head and smiling at him softly. “That’s perfectly okay, I just wanted to know if you had ventured out into that yet. I know things are still fresh, but like I said, everyone deals with things differently. Not being intimate with someone is okay, and if you had that would have been okay too. When I saw the two of you come in I thought that might have been the case between you. I wanted to see where you were in the process of intimate contact before I suggest the exercise that I had in mind for you.”
"Why did you think she and I were having sex?" he asked, not angry, but genuinely curious.
"Well, the way you look at each other mainly. The way she seemed to respond to your pain in retelling your experience that brought you to me. The way she's reached for your hand at least three times since you started telling your story, but stopped short of actually touching you," she said, smiling at the two of you warmly.
All you could think was apparently you weren't covering up your reaction to his attack as you thought you were.
Jensen was staring at you, blinking, like he'd expected her to say anything, but that.
"You obviously trust her. People that have gone through trauma like yourself don't tend to allow people outside of their trusted circle to come to these appointments," she said, weighing Jensen's response to her every word.
"She's been there with me since I was at the hospital basically. We were working together, before... well.. She's been with me ever since, doing things for me that my wife wouldn't even do when we were married," he said, looking down at his lap playing with his watch.
"Let's do a little exercise," she said, crossing her legs with a smirk on her face. "Y/N, I want you to scoot over on the couch, and sit right next to him, as close as physically possible.”
You look at Jensen, then back at her.
"It's okay, trust me. He can handle it. I want to prove to you something," she said.
You look over at Jensen again. He half-heartedly smiled, but it was his body language that stuck out to yourself and the therapist.
Before you could even move he had thrown his arm over the back of the couch, and grabbed your hand, making room for you to sit comfortably next to him, and pulling you to him by the hand.
Slowly you slid into place, and you felt Jensen lean into you slightly.
"Jensen, it's not abnormal to feel detached from your body after experiencing a violation to the degree that you did. It's a way your body copes. Your mind may be screaming one thing, but your body is doing another. Is that how you feel?" she asked.
You felt Jensen's grip tighten on you. You looked up at him and you saw silent tears slipping down his face.
The therapist smiled knowingly, sliding the tissue box closer to you so that you could hand him a few tissues.
He didn’t have to answer, she already knew...
"It's okay to feel the way you're feeling. Your feelings aren't wrong. They're human nature. It's human nature to feel the need to be close to someone. It's not dirty, or wrong like your mind had tried to make it out to be. Even though you were hurt your body is still gonna have urges. That's because they hurt your mind more than they hurt your body. That's where your battle is going to be. You feel like your control has been taken away from you. That what once might have been enjoyable, or natural, or even intimate has turned filthy and painful. We’re going to help you get that control back, in time, give yourself time, be patient with yourself. Don’t be afraid to push yourself either. "
She then turned to you.
"He's not gonna break, He's not glass. He's going to have bad days, he's gonna have nightmares and flashbacks, but he NEEDS the contact. He needs intimacy, and I’m not talking about sex. He needs to feel you close to him, to know you're there. Don't walk around him like you're afraid if you touch him he'll shatter. He wants you to touch him, he wants you to snuggle up on the couch with him. When he's having a bad day he wants you to wrap your arms around him. He's just not able to ask for it right now. You saw how eager he was to have you under his arm just now. I never told him to grab your hand with his free hand. He did that. I never told him to lift his arm and let you closer to him. He did that. Do you understand? Right now he's craving you to be close to him," You look up at Jensen, who is looking anywhere but you and the therapist.
"Okay,” was all you could say. You felt his grip tighten on your hand.
“It’s good that you're staying with him. He doesn’t need to be alone right now, he needs you to be there for him,” she said.
"I've been staying at her apartment. Sometimes I go home during the day, but at night I can't make myself stay by myself," his voice sounded ashamed and broken. It made you lean your head onto his shoulder. As soon as you did he tightened his arm around you and took a very deep breath.
"It's okay that you don't want to be alone. That's normal," she said. “You two do need to come to terms on where you stand. That way what I'm about to tell you doesn't seem so awkward."
Jensen looked down at you honestly a little afraid.
"I want you to think about moving in with him at his house. I think it might help him being familiar with his surroundings, in his space with you. Someone he trusts... Do you think you would be willing to do that?" she asked you.
You thought for a moment, honestly a little nervous about what Jensen may think about it, but you decided to play along. You weren’t going to leave him, especially not now, and if he needed to be home, then home with him you’d go...
You nod slowly. "I can do that if he wants me to," you say, not really believing your own words came out of your mouth, yet never more sure of anything in your life.
"I want that," he said before the therapist could say anything, eyes locked on you; an emotion that you didn't understand burning deep in the background of his eyes.
"Okay, that's settled then," she said. "Now the hard part. The part that's gonna be a little awkward and tough. It very well may throw you into a flashback the first time, Jensen," she said, giving him a sympathetic look.
"Trust me though, this will work. Every free chance you get, Every time you have some time alone. Every time you go to bed at night I need both of you to lay there and cuddle with each other. Let him explore you, let him gain control, and make sure he knows he has control of the situation, eventually get to where you can do it naked."
Seeing the look on your faces she threw her hand up before either of you could say anything. "Just hear me out," she said.
Jensen is shaking next to you again. Not that you hadn’t seen him naked before. Just that type of contact while naked seemed to throw him a little bit.
"Sex isn’t what they took away. Your power over your own body, that’s what they took away from you. It's what caused the mental detachment that you're feeling. The only way to get that back is to get your control back. Sex is how your going to do that. I want you to get comfortable in your own body again. It's human nature that eventually this type of cuddling will turn into intimacy. That's gonna be hard the first time. The more you allow yourself to go there though. The more control you will regain, and you will be able to start to heal," she said, handing him a piece of paper. "Come back in a month, before then if you need to. Let me know your progress."
Jensen nodded and stood. “Okay, we’ll give it a try… I want to get past this.. So bad.”
“You will trust yourself, and trust Y/N,” she said.
Both of you shook hands with her and walked silently to the car. Jensen was still holding your hand tightly.
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When the door was finally shut and the two of you were back in your apartment he finally spoke.
"So, looks like we got some things we're gonna have to figure out between us, apparently we can't just keep ignoring it anymore if I'm ever gonna get better," he said, closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.
"Were you serious? Will you move in with me?" he asked, almost a little afraid of your answer.
"Yes, I told you I would," you say.
His grip tightens and he pulls you into his chest as close as he can.
"Then what will you say if I told you I have feelings for you, and I really want you to be my girlfriend? Do you want to be with someone as fucked up as me?" he asked.
Which floored you. You weren’t expecting that, but it did make your heart flutter a little in your chest.
"Jensen, of course, I want to be with you.”
Before you could even finish his lips were on you, softly, sweetly. It didn't last near as long as you wanted it to, but it was a start.
"Well baby, I guess we need to get you packed."
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Babes in Mimeland || Nora & Jared
Timing: This past week sometime.
Location: The common.
Tagging: @fearfordinner
Description:
Triggers: Mimes?
Jared wasn’t completely comfortable to be away from the farm that day, but he’d given his word, and he wasn’t going to go back on it. Surely everything would be fine for an hour or two while he did this. So there he stood, in a t-shirt that implored passing customers to support the performers behind him. He was holding flyers and smiling as wide as he could whilst flagging down passers-by to take them. A mime he’d started to consider a friend had mimed that he should come and help them out that day, the mime in question part of an air-band as a side hustle for working at Yours, mime, and ours (where Jared was a frequent customer). “Don’t forget to support your local mime performers! They’re good at what they do and they have mouths to feed at home whilst working on their passions!”
A music box was an odd reward Nora decided twisting the box around in her hands. The eyeball, a necklace that she’d taken to wearing frequently, was a much more satisfactory prize. Nora was about to flip open the prize she’d come to winterfest to claim when her eye was caught by the mime band. Oh great! They were performing. Music box forgotten and shoved into her pocket, Nora trudged through the crowd to admire the artists at work. There were no hard feelings on her part that her last encounter with a mime had left her rainbow colored for a week. There were hard feelings to deal with on her part with the idea that her favorite mime had died right in front of her. Ideas that she refused to acknowledge. A shout about helping mimes made her ears perk up. Nora snatched a flyer from a giant, glancing over it. “I want to help.” She announced. “The mimes are great.”
Most people passing Jared by were trying their very best to ignore him, he watched many fliers find their way into the trash. It was a little disheartening but overall expected, you didn’t have shirts like the one he was wearing unless there was some serious stigma going on. His head tilted down and a more genuine smile bloomed on his face as someone actively approached to take a flier. “They are! One of my friends is in the band, they’re honestly great at what they do and everything helps, people in town aren’t so forgiving for being different…” he trailed off before he could add just how strange he found that considering the variety of species that you could find in all corners. Jared blinked away the thought and returned to focus on the person showing interest. “So-” He was cut off by an obnoxious laugh off to the left towards the gingerbread house. He couldn’t quite hear what was said but the way the group of people mock mimed along with the band rubbed him the wrong way. His face soured.
Friends? With a mime? Was that legal? Wouldn’t that be like being friends with mythical legends who are way cooler than you? Like the real babadook or maybe the boogyman? Even goatman. They were all famous figures Nora admired but wouldn’t know how to befriend if they were before her. It was a sudden moment of awe as her blank gaze passed between the giant and the band. If she helped could she be friends too? Nora dug in her pocket and pulled out her beaten up old wallet. She was ready to pay a large sum of money before laughter met her ears and she could see a group of adults, probably in their late to mid thirties, making fun of the mimes. A different way to help crossed her mind as she watched them enter the gingerbread house. “What if we scared them?” Nora asked, her monotone making it sound like a serious and reasonable suggestion. “Make a point that people can’t keep mocking mimes because they are quiet.”
He’d forgotten what he’d planned on saying next to the other when she piped up with an idea. Jared looked after the group as they laughed and joked at the expense of his mime friends before heading into the gingerbread house. He nodded slowly before deciding it was a perfect idea, no amount of money fixed hurt feelings, but a little bit of revenge might. “Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea. People are always doing stuff like that.” Jared frowned and tucked the fliers into his back pocket, ready to so what it took to have those meanies regret their choices. “Let’s do it.” he said only pausing a split second before moving towards the gingerbread house (that had already closed its door on the group, trapping them) to ask “What’s your name anyway? Since you’re leading the charge, what’s the name of the commander? I’m Jared.” he offered preemptively.
Commander? Nora liked being called a commander. She could see it now, a field of dead bodies around her as she stood tall, proud on a rock, wearing a military jacket. There’d be some life in the people somewhere, and they would be full of fear. Life changing fear. The kind of fear that made for a meal instead of just a snack. She’d paint that picture later. “Nora.” Nora answered, her affect betraying nothing of the mental spiral she’d just followed. “Are you good at scaring people?” Nora hadn’t noticed the door close behind the other group. She pushed through the crowd and to the door, pushing it open and holding it for the giant - er - Jared. She wondered if he’d hit his head on the door frame. This Jared, friend of mime, was about to see things. She hoped he’d enjoy them as a fellow lover of mimes.
“I’m not sure, Usually it’s by accident, but I could try and make something work.” He wondered briefly if he could get away with using his glamour to help spook the group, without his partner in crime noticing. It would be far easier to do some scarring in the name of the mimes if he could make himself look like he had stripes like some sort of angry chameleon. Jared ducked in the door that was held open for him, and it pulled shut behind him. The inside was dark, the windows were as they tended to be on small gingerbread house kits that you could buy at the store, the windows were painted on in icing rather than cut out. It was pitch black aside from the gaps around the edges where the icing hadn’t fully sealed the walls in place. The group were in the next room of the house whispering now that it was dark as humans tended to do, as if the dark was suppressing any noise. Using the quiet he mimicked one of his kids' cries as loud as he could just to start them off. The angry call of a bies sounded from his lungs abruptly and clearly for a singular second before cutting off to return to silence again.
The noise that came out of the giant’s mouth was absolutely brilliant. Loud. Jarring. Inhuman. No animal Nora could recognize. She gave one slight nod of approval. Maybe this stork, now nicknamed for being a giant bird and not just a giant, accidentally scared people more often than naught. Reaching inside herself, Nora lit the string of her magic. Her fingertip traced across the gingerbread walls as she walked. Icing started to coat her finger but she ignored it. Instead she concentrated on making the screeching noise of steel on steel. She’d seen it cause the hairs on people’s neck to rise. She hoped her cover of dragging her finger would be enough to fool new friend Jared. She’d claim it was a party trick or something. Damn, she really hated frosting.
Jared extended his glamour past his usual skin cover to also alter his clothes just that little bit, the mime shirt was a little too telling after all. Instead he added stripes subtly in the darkness, only really put in place for his own peace of mind rather than for any impact. He hoped it was too dark for anyone to notice, so that he didn’t have to explain to Nora either. The noise she was making sent a chill up his spine as well for a half a second before he settled into it, it was easier knowing where it was coming from...sort of. He had no idea how she was doing it, but he was certain it was Nora doing it at the very least, no other way a gingerbread house could make that noise. The group were muttering to each other, clearly unsettled as they headed into the next room trying to find the backdoor to escape. Jared spotted a runner rug down the hallway, so he stooped to tug on it and send the last straggling person flying into the rest, holding back a snicker as they toppled like bowling pins.
Was the stork looking a little stripy or was it the shadows of the gingerbread house? It wasn’t very well lit. Probably because it was made out of ginger and not wood. Nora found herself wishing she bore the strips of those they came to protect. An illusion manifested itself across small patches of her clothes; black and white alliance patches. The group they’d followed in were becoming less of a snack and more of a meal. Nora took a deep inhalation in, enjoying the rewards of Jared’s carpet tug. They piled to the ground obviously scared of what was going to happen. “Where’s the exit?” One shouted. “I-I don’t know, I don’t see any. How can this place be this big?” Panic made their voice high pitched and frantic as they shouted over Nora’s noise. She let the noise fall, leaving them and their prey in a sudden silence. “Boo.” Her monotone was briefly followed by an illusion monster appearing behind them. Black and white stripes mime meets masked monster with a giant maw and sharp rows of teeth. It gurgled towards the fallen group. Slowly. Leaving a trail of stripes behind it as it went.
Jared was unaware that it was Nora that had created the mime monster, he himself had seen the mimes do some incredible stuff so he wasn’t put off at all. It was a mask of only a slight surprise, thinking that they might have stopped performing to aid in this situation for themselves. This is why when a striped goo seemed to seep in the cracks of the gingerbread house (to form into another more ‘traditional’ looking mime on the ceiling) he didn’t even flinch. This mime turned it’s head like it was an owl to look down at the monster curiously for a split second before scuttling down the wall towards the now scrambling pile of humans. Jared flattened himself against the wall of the gingerbread house and increased his glamor in the moment to look more like the mime that had appeared on the ceiling, although not able to move his head like it had. He didn’t have quite the same energy, but he tried his best. The group screamed and swore and scrambled past Nora and Jared being chased by both Nora's creation as well as the mime who had come to see what was happening, only to be delighted with its findings.
This scene was beautiful. Perfect. Picturesque. The gaggle of bullies trying to run away. The mime manifesting. The illusion chasing, gurgling, gnashing its giant teeth. Nora was almost satisfied with the scene and the meal but it was missing something. A soundtrack maybe? Oh. She had the music box. Maybe that would add some ambiance to the whole shindig. It took a minute to windup the old box. It popped open displaying a couple wrapped in each other's arms dancing an eternal waltz. The music began, gentle, haunting, almost mournfully and her eyes fixated on the waltzing couple. She was met with an absolute need to waltz. Carefully she placed down the music box and held her hand out to Jared’s, the silent question to dance. A question that only had one answer as everyone around them started waltzing together. The gaggle were screaming in terror now, practically drowning out the beautiful music. “Why are we dancing?” Why can’t we stop dancing?” “Why am I dancing with a mime?”
The screaming had drowned out the ticking of the small music box winding up, so when the tune started Jared almost didn’t notice his body was moving towards music. Taking Nora’s hand they began to dance through no action of free will. The screaming did not die down, it seems the music was taking their movement alone, their voices would remain their own. Spinning around the room he was sort of delighted to have noticed that one of the group of humans had paired with a mime, who had turned its head all the way around again to watch the scene unfold in full rather than focus on it’s partner. “What kind of music box is that?” Jared asked Nora, his voice only faltering when her platform boots came down on his toes, yelling over the screams and panic of the humans with as wide a smile on his face as he could muster. Acting as is if the extra noise was only part of the song. He suspected magic, but he didn’t want to outright ask.
“I do-” Nora had never been good at dancing, and despite the dance being magically pre-choreographed for them, that didn’t go away. “Oh sorry.” She mumbled. “I don’t know anything about the box.” Nora nodded at the mime as they twirled past the beautiful friend. “It was the reward I got for getting second place.” First place shouldn’t have won. Her art was masterful. Oh well. Beggars couldn’t be winners. But apparently second place could be dancers. “I wonder how long it lasts.”
The screams and music could be heard by passing townsfolk for a while and they all ignored it, as was usual in white crest.
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The Full Metal Alchemist Live Action Movie Part 8: Watch This Episode Covered in Butts be the Only One Not Flagged by Tumblr
Gonna be risky business and not only upload all of these caps the way I screenshot them--which has just SO MANY poorly CGI’d butts but also gonna do it on the Tumblr Drafts folder, which I have been assured works now.
I’m so worried about so many things, but considering all the fears I have about like...everything else in the world right now...I guess I’ll take a risk on tumblr.
Edit: I cannot believe that I had 8ish episodes of Kaiba’s tall dueling tower get flagged but not this movie. I just....wow I cannot.
So anyway, last we left off, General Hakuro stepped in and was like “Hi guys, you like my wily plans that no one in their right mind would have ever guessed???”
Yo remember this part of the anime? Where the bodies drop from the ceiling and it’s a hunk out of the final arc--it’s here. In this movie. This movie that can’t possibly afford to do that. Lets get some CGI animated bodies in here ASAP.
(see some texture regrets under the cut)
It’s like a Monet, as the Mean Girls say, because far away and shrinked to 500 pixels this looks kinda neat. They sort of look more like those slime ball that grow in the back of your throat rather than human bodies, but they still look pretty gross hanging up there.
But then.....we zoom in. Remember again that this was full screen on my computer, and at one point was on a freakin movie screen. This level of 3d...was on a movie theater screen.
The mind boggles. The mind boggles!
Like as you know, I am an artist, and I’ve dabbled in...basically everything in my pursuit to make a dollar...and I have taken about 2 years of classes in 3D art with Maya and all those. I’m not thaaat great at it--I’m much more an illustrator/painter--but I feel like I have that reference point. Can I just say--the model is...fine...you can do a lot with layers of bump maps so you don’t need a truly detailed model (not like they did that, because they didn’t do that, but I can figure that maybe they had an intention to do that and forgot?)
But, there’s no connection of the wires to bodies. They just kinda float? The bodies are also all the same shiny-ness? To the point that it looks like a copy paste? (I don’t think it is, the wires are slightly different on a few of them) There’s just not much in the way of a texture map or a bump map. It just...there’s also something missing from the skin.
Skin is actually kind of rough to render, so when I did it back in the day, I followed like a checklist to make sure I had all the layers and steps to make someone look...clammy. Some things are kinda translucent, they reflect light a different way...especially white skin like this wouldn’t be just...white like putty. Dunno if you ever saw a white person, but we got so many veins...there was so much potential to make something really gross and fleshy.
Instead we got silly putty. It’s fine. I’m fine.
So General Hakuro decides to just...kill everyone right now.
This makes no sense to me.
That means that the whole thing of Lust killing Hughes was completely unrelated to General Hakuro. All Hakuro needed was Shou Tucker, who has been in prison for...I assume months since Ed shipped him off. And Shou was only released today? Just now? Just now when Hughes was shot?
So this all just happened at the same time by accident?
I mean the General sent us to the wrong lab initially, so he didn’t actually want us to be here, and now that we are here, he’s going to set off an entire army as a reaction to three people walking in and going “oops”?
So, lets get a look at our army.
Oh it was so disappointing, this reveal. Not just the eyeball that has a bounce light coming from below the top lip there (how did that even happen???) but also when it opened it’s mouth, it had a flat animation of skin breaking--it wasn’t actually rendered 3d skin, it was like a jpg wrapped around it or something (or at least that was the illusion I got. That is fine for a video game or a TV show, but this is a movie. This is shot so that it can be displayed in a size bigger than your own house.
What happened to the animation team on this one? Not saying I can do better, cuz no, I can’t, that 3d chapter in my life was a while back, but I’m just one guy. This was an entire animation studio and they just...didn’t render 3d face ripping (which is their entire job, to work in 3d) and then they kinda just turned on the stock physics dynamics and dropped em instead of animating them.
The way they fell was like fish from a bucket--the same amount of speed, too. they all ragdolled like a 3D shooter, their rigs just hanging on for dear life (and yes, you could see the deforming happen on the joints of these models.) I’m fine with having a computer program render something out with a physics engine...but there is a balance.
You do have to still go in there and finangle it back because...real life is hella stupid. Real physics? So stupid. It was hilarious how nonthreatening it was, too because they’re like...the size of shrimps in that zoom out image. The scale is just so wild!
It was like one bored guy in a sound booth and they multiplied his voice three times. Golden. Absolutely golden.
So these guys stride over, all of them with the same amount of speed (leading me to think it was probably a recorded walk cycle they all share with slight alterations between all of em) and they kinda just...pile on eachother in a weird way.
I will give them this: I was happy to see something that wasn’t physics or procedural. They mo-capped and animated that part for sure. It had the touch of an artist’s hand. It was also a very funny way for Hakuro to die because this guy was on screen for like 5 minutes, and maybe 7 minutes of this whole movie.
Youknow...I think it really says a lot about your nude 3d models if they’re not disturbingly human enough to trigger the tumblr filter, youknow?
Anyway, Envy looks on.
And then Gluttony saves the city.
Meanwhile, they decide to bust out the fire effects and Mustang becomes the most useful person in this entire movie. Like honestly this movie was poorly named, because it should have just been “Mustang saves the FullMetal Alchemist’s Entire Ass.”
The next part seems like I forgot a cap, or maybe missed something. I swear to you, I did not.
First off, Al becomes fullmetal and makes this happen without an alchemy circle. The show doesn’t really care to talk about that though, it’s just a thing he can do now, and you’d only notice it if you were writing a Tumblr post about it.
I swear to you, Winry is just inside of Al and there is no explanation.
There is no explanation for this.
She was on the couch...why is she not on the couch? What?
And then when you think they might have a moment, Ed’s like.
Damn.
For reals what the hell was that entire scene except for a way for Ed to get his arm stitched back on in like 2 minutes?
Outside, Envy and Lust are just strolling around the back-alley of this red brick building we have seen used for this entire movie.
And like...it’s so funny to me because they weren’t trying to run or hide. It makes complete sense why they got shot. This is what happens when you just...walk away when the whole military guard wants to kill you.
Now lets go see how Hawkeye is faring.
Luckily, all of the ambling bodies have decided to walk slowly through this one weird grass section between extremely long buildings.
And Hawkeye tells everyone “You have to shoot their heads off” and I want you to look at that scene and tell me how many of those bodies still have heads.
Oh, all of them. Don’t worry about it.
Kinda hard to see, but Ed shows up to give Mustang a hand, which was fully unnecessary but we’ll get to that in a bit.
This movie is such a gem.
Ed goes big brain and realizes that Envy is still burned up, and thus is about to pass on.
And whatever, I’ll take it. It’s not like the movie has told us that they are made out of 1000000 lives, for all we know, in the movie universe, they really are only 4 lives. Like half a cat. Maybe Father only killed half a cat instead of an entire city.
Yugi Muto would be so freakin proud of Envy for how often this guy gets hit square in the chest with fire balls. It’s basically every scene where Envy and Mustang share screen time.
And don’t worry, I don’t think Envy died? But they sure made it look like he did, which I’m sure everyone everywhere was really happy to see, since Envy’s death was one of the climaxes of the whole series. Like people used to make these lists of “top 10 saddest anime deaths” and how many people had Envy on there? Like everyone? People freakin love Envy and they did him so much dirty in this movie.
Again I have no explanation for Winry.
So Mustang is like, Ed, you make sure Winry doesn’t biff it in that corner, and I’ll do my actual job over here on this side. And yo, he did.
And so then that’s it, Lust is dead, and now we have a Sorcerer’s stone.
Man it looks delicious, right?
I’d eat the hell out of that.
Anyway, we only have one more update and we’re done with this movie!
I know!
I know! They only have 10-15 minutes to resolve pretty much everything, and that’s assuming that the credits don’t take up a heap of that. Hell, I might only have 3 caps next episode if that’s all credits. I honestly don’t remember.
Anyway, hope y’all take it easy this February, here is a link for people who just got here to read these FMA recaps in Chrono order.
https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono
#FMA#Fullmetal Alchemist#Fullmetal Alchemist Movie#recap#photo recap#ed elric#colonel mustang#hawkeye#al elric#Winry Rockbell#so much fire#so much almost there CG
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Entry Level Angel | Ch 3
On AO3
Saturday, October 10th:
Charlie tapped Cas's shoulder, urging him forward as another breeze stroked past his skin— his still very desensitized skin. He swallowed, unmoving, eyes drilling into the scene ahead. After waiting another moment, Charlie flicked Cas in the bicep. He flinched out of sheer habit.
“Y’know, this is super important,” Charlie reminded him, using her fingertips to soothe the site of assault. “Like, for your own well-being. Hell, for your life, even. Not to be melodramatic or anything, but it’s not like we have any clue of the severity we’re facing, here.”
She was right, of course— Cas needed help, and he needed it more and more desperately, each passing day. He had almost certainly been cursed. Although, that was right about where the reasonable conclusions slipped off into the abyss, never to be heard from again.
However, if Charlie’s plan was to succeed, Cas was going to have to take some initiative, first. There was nothing productive about standing in place, waiting for the asphalt to swallow both his body and his oh-so stubborn will to live.
Christ, how did Charlie convince herself that she was the “melodramatic” one?
The brick wall ahead was tinged by an earthy green plaster, offsetting the tubular neon lights spelling out “Magical Books ‘n’ Goods” across an otherwise cramped windowpane. Damp autumn leaves clung to the chipping windowsill and the base of an oval-capped doorway. Cas could hardly see inside the low-lit shop, aside from the unassuming profile of a retail bookshelf.
Sure, it wasn’t an especially threatening setup, but he wasn’t exactly coming at the situation from the calmest headspace. Thus, there was an almost menacing ambiance filtering through the shop’s walls, clamoring in Cas’s direction. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been rendered motionless by fear, much like a toddler off to their first day of preschool. Nope, no need for personal responsibility or self-initiative, here. Not today.
Again, Charlie nudged him, although with more pressure than earlier. “Dude, I’m serious. I just know that if anyone’s gonna be able to give us a clue, here, it’s gonna be her. Listen; I get the nerves, okay? And, like, I don’t even expect them to go away when you guys meet. She’s great, but she’s still an acquired taste… if it’s not totally insensitive to say that about another person. But this is important, Cas. I care about you too much to be lax, right now. Got it?”
Cas huffed, blinking slowly. Processing. “What a beautiful speech,” he quipped, continuing to gather his thoughts. Charlie flicked him again, this time on his shoulder. “Fine, okay, I understand. I do. I’m going in.”
Eyes lighting up against the muted autumn backdrop, Charlie thrust a celebratory fist into the air. “Great! Let’s get going, then.”
⁂
The inside of the witches’ specialty shop wasn’t too much unlike a run-of-the-mill small town bookstore, down to the effortless quirks of its layout. Mismatched shelves lined much of the back wall, creating a rich smattering of varying hues and grain around the secondhand spines. The air smelt faintly of chemical cinnamon, hardly able to overcome the musk of the place. Still, the witchy touches were anything but hidden; a line of tables ran down the center of the shop, covered in plastic-wrapped bundles of herbs, jars of unidentifiable glowing substances, and trendy rose gold altars. Wait, was that… an eyeball?
For his own sanity, Cas decided not to overthink it.
Before Cas had the opportunity to turn to Charlie for guidance, a voice jetted through the air, originating from god-knows-where. “Ah, hello there, dearie! Charlie, welcome back! And who is this you’ve brought along with you?” The thick, unmistakably Scottish sing-song seemed to reverberate out of the air, itself. Although hazy at the start, the sound was quick to crispen up.
Shifty eyed, Cas began to peer around the shop, only slightly disturbed by the disembodied words. Truly, it wasn’t as if he’d been expecting a day-to-day, streamlined retail experience. This was about in line with his expectations, so, whatever.
Charlie, bless her, managed to respond with near perfect nonchalance; this calmed Cas, yet somehow, also put him just a bit more on-edge. Well, then. “Hey, Ro! Where are you at? The back? I kinda, really need your help with something. Or, at least, my friend here sure does. Oh, Cas, introduce yourself!”
Cas side-eyed his friend, chewing his lip before replying slowly, seemingly to no one in particular, “Hi, I’m Cas. Um. Nice to meet… you? Yeah, sorry, who am I speaking to?” He was a human, for heaven’s sake; he wasn’t used to this, as expected as it might have been. Witches were certainly avant-garde, Cas could give them that.
Seconds later, a door was pushed open toward the back of the shop; it was encased on both sides by thinner, darker shelves, lined with stones and miscellaneous shiny and slimy tchotchkes. Cas swallowed, taking in the emerging figure.
The woman was surprisingly petite, yet carried herself as if she could crush Cas beneath her pinkie finger, alone. Red hair styled in fat curls poured over the shoulders of her simple black gown. Her eyes seemed to be faintly glowing, and Cas wasn’t certain he was comfortable with that fact, all things considered.
Nonetheless, Charlie was beaming in an instant, giving a short yet enthused wave of her hand. “Hey again, Ro. I know you’re probably busy, and I seriously don’t wanna waste any more of your time than I have to, so I’ll get right down to it. Oh, first— Cas, this is Rowena MacLeod, the spell-casting and lore dictionary, herself.”
Rowena let out a low giggle, the gleam in her emerald eyes only intensifying. Honestly, Cas was convinced that that “gleam” was more than simply a trick of the light.
“Yes, of course! Well, it’s very good to meet you, Cas, dearie,” Rowena said, her voice flowing over Cas like compound butter.
Cas gave a curt nod, unsure if he was meant to lead the conversation from there, but praying that he wasn’t.
To his luck, Charlie continued, “Like I said, I’ll get right down to… it. ‘Cause it’s kinda a lot. Unfortunately,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and entering an inadvertent power pose. “Cas here, just like the unlucky bastard that he is, managed to go and get himself mega cursed. And we have, like, no clue what’s goin’ on. So, first off, we’re gonna need a diagnosis, if you can give us one.”
Pursing her red-painted lips, Rowena hummed, squinting in Cas's direction. Cas fidgeted as the witch glided across the room, the floor creaking and whining beneath her leather heels. Moving in Cas's direction, she continued to scope the young man out.
“Hm? Ach, so… Cas, darling. Mind to expand in place of your friend? This is your tragic curse, after all. I’m sure your first-hand assessment will be more useful to me, here.”
Strangely enough, Cas wanted to contend. While Charlie hadn’t been the one experiencing the bizarro symptoms that past week, she was the witch. This was her specialty, her very domain as their backdrop.
Still, with trepidation, he replied. “It’s not anything bad, necessarily. At least, not painful. Just… very strange.” He sighed. Rowena leaned forward, tipping the weight of her body in Cas's direction. “I spilled hot coffee on myself and wasn’t burnt. No pain, either. I can’t sleep. I haven’t tasted food in a week. Oh, I haven’t slept in a week, either, so I definitely should mention that. Also, once, not too long after this all started, my entire abdomen glowed blue, before I was knocked unconscious for… a few hours, I believe?”
Cas held his breath, anticipating the sharp-eyed witch’s professional assessment. She continued to squint upward, claw-like hands finding their way to her hips.
“Well,” she hummed, after a moment of thought. “That’s certainly… concerning, to put things all too simply. Ah, and— you’re a human, correct?”
“Yeah, I am.” Although, frankly, Cas wasn’t so sure anymore. He certainly didn’t feel like a human, at that point. Surely, a “human” would have dropped dead of exhaustion by then, right?
(Although, it was more likely that Dean was going to be the one to kill him for neglecting his health and safety, if he ever found out. Assuming the curse didn’t get creative and take care of that first, of course.)
Rowena gave a delicate nod, loose curls bobbing with the movement. She straightened herself, leaning just slightly away, and Cas felt the concrete seeping from his own limbs. Wait, when had he gotten so tense?
“I see, I see. Hm…” She clucked her tongue, momentarily turning her gaze toward the tiled ceiling. “You are certainly correct, Charlie, dear. This isn’t a common ailment… how fascinating. That is certainly an unusual combination of, what sounds like, quite powerful and life-altering symptoms. Ach, well…” She trailed off, before reaching out a slender hand and attaching it to Cas's forearm. He lurched, but made sure not to pull away. As much as he loathed people touching him without a lick of permission, he reasoned that it was a sacrifice he’d apparently have to make.
God, he felt like a fucking lab rat, though. A genetic freak of a rodent, caged off from the rest of its whiskered brethren.
“I… have a bit of an inkling, certainly,” Rowena said, nails digging deeper into the flesh of Cas’s arm. She gazed directly into his eyes. “Infernal magic of some sort or another seems likely. Demonic in nature, maybe? Of course, draconic spellwork is still very much a consideration.”
Charlie drew in a breath between her teeth, reaching out from beside Cas and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Woah… not good. Why do you think that?”
To Cas's hardly containable irritation, Rowena let out another giggle, sleek as ever. “Well, you see, dearie, it’s really just a simple process of elimination. The more uncommon the spell or the curse, the more likely it’s outsourced from fringe magic. It’s as simple as that, really.” She drew back her hand, joining her palms together atop her heart. “Of course, we’ll have to do some further investigation to understand what, exactly, is the matter. Now, think of it like a fun little puzzle— in that light, your predicament will feel far less harrowing. Hm?”
As Rowena spoke and Charlie shifted her hand to clutch at the meat of Cas’s bicep, the front door to the shop was nudged open. Cas peaked over his shoulder, watching a golden-haired stranger hop on in— and promptly drift toward the corner shelves. There was no hesitation to his movements, his gait full of pep and bordering on enthusiastic. Still, he didn’t reach out to fiddle with any of the items; he simply stood in place, arms crossed over his chest, facing away from Rowena and company.
“Follow me to the back, now,” Rowena sung, re-seizing Cas's attention. “I’ll dash back out if I’m needed, but for now, privacy would be best.”
Charlie nodded. “Totally, I agree. Cas, you okay with heading back? Do you want me to come with? I can, if you want. Or not. Whatever you need, man.”
Throwing a final glance toward the apparent non-customer, Cas turned to Charlie, eyes pleading. Please. Please don’t leave me alone with her.
Thankfully, his friend got the message. Blessed be
#my writing#destiel#deancas#destiel fanfic#A bit of a rougher chapter... but we're gonna work with it!#my post
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Enemies Of The State : Dark!Klaroline {15}
summary:
This fiction follows the events of just how Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes lost everything that tied them to their humanity, leading them into something neither of them can come back from.
—————
{10 years ago}
Klaus Mikaelson wanted so desperately to find Caroline Forbes. For her safety he’d devoted his time seeking his older brother who’d wanted her heart in his hands, yet what was the point when she was already on the path of her imminent death?
There were very few things that unsettled Klaus. Siphoner’s were one of them, and the Gemini Coven just so happened to contain one of the devices needed to break out one of the dreaded parasite witches.
Malakai Parker.
Kai Parker, he had decided long ago, was probably as evil as he was. Pure evil reincarnated with no redeeming qualities. A sociopathic killer who conveniently had the ability to kill supernaturals who’d possesed witch magic with a simple touch.
The minute he’d found the news that Kai was banished to the mercy of a prison world, he hadn’t thought of the danger of Siphoner’s. After threatening the Gemini Coven to keep the ascendant hidden away from prying eyes, of course, he’d decided the matter was dealt with.
Until now.
“You don’t think she’s looking for it,” Rebekah stuttered as she looked as her brother wide eyed. “How on earth would she know-”
“It doesn’t matter how she knows!” Klaus cut her off sharply. “You know perfectly well what would happen if he escapes that bloody prison.”
The rest of the group had complexed expressions, obviously confused on what they were talking about. Kol looked ashen, knowing exactly what this situation could bring amongst vampires.
“She needs Bennett blood to activate the ascendent,” Bonnie spoke up heavily. “Caroline doesn’t know anything about magic anyways.”
“She obviously went to the bloody Coven with a purpose in mind,” Rebekah snapped. “That idiotic girl will be the death of all of us!”
“Watch it,” Klaus hissed with venom. “She couldn’t be more idiotic than you, letting her go when you knew she was without her humanity like that. Pathetic.”
The original sister went red with anger, all traces of weakness vanished from her expression at her brother’s words. She knew better than to let him walk all over her. Not this time. Her next words were spat out in pure hostility.
“I’m pathetic?” Rebekah flashed towards him, red faced and enraged. “Who left Caroline here all alone because they were too afraid of feeling love? Figures, you wouldn’t know how it would feel to be loved. Everybody bloody hates you, Nik. You left the girl who was willing to care for you and now, she hates you too because you are weak. That, my dear brother, is the epitome of being pathetic-”
Klaus didn’t let his sister finish her little rant about what she thought of him because in a flash, she dropped dead on the ground, the hilt of a silver dagger glinting in the early morning sunlight, protruding from her chest.
—————
Caroline and Katherine had been driving to god knows where for what had seemed like a couple hours now.
“So what’s the plan, hmm?” Caroline continued coating her nails with a black polish. “I still don’t understand how Kai could help us in our ‘freedom’”
“We aren’t fully free,” Katherine hummed from the drivers seat. “Your little Mystic Fall buddies are probably dying without their piece of human frailty.”
“Please,” Caroline scoffed. “They’re glad i’m gone.”
“I heard. What was that business with precious little you becoming more like a vampire should be?”
Caroline remembered all too well about the feeling of her vampirism consuming every bit of her soul when she was still with her humanity. It was different then, her conflicting emotions driving her to the point of switching it off. That fight with her ex-friends was just the tipping point. Not that she cared about it, obviously.
“I don’t know,” Caroline hummed. “Vampirism getting the best of good little Caroline i suppose.”
“So where is good little Caroline now?”
“She’s dead.”
***
“What on earth did you just do?”
Kol Mikaelson looked upon his sister with widened eyes, who was still laying temporarily lifeless on Caroline’s front lawn.
“Oh stop being so dramatic,” Klaus rolled his eyes, turning away from the scene. “She’ll be back to her incessant little self the minute i pull the thing out.”
“She’ll never forgive you,” Kol breathed out. “She’ll hate you forever.”
Stefan let go of Elena’s hold, who was holding on for her life in worry that her’s might be in danger. Walking over to the greyed body of Rebekah, he looked solemn.
“Was that for Elijah?” He asked quietly. “The dagger.”
“Of course it was for Elijah,” Damon Salvatore approached beside his brother. “He wants to dagger him, don’t you Klaus? Some things never change.”
“Stop it, Damon” Elena speaks up timidly. “It’s better that he’s dead. He wants to kill Caroline.”
“Look at what she’s done Elena,” Damon rolls his eyes, gesturing to Rebekah’s corpse. “All of this for what? She switched if off, and look where we are. Let Elijah deal with her.”
“You better shut it before my brother makes you, mate” Kol says in a quiet voice, glaring at Damon. Little did he know, Klaus already heard it. He was just waiting for Damon to say more.
The angrier he could make him, the better.
“Let me tell you something,” Damon turned around, facing the group. “Caroline Forbes is useless. She’s weak, and shallow and honestly? Makes everything about herself. Like right now.”
“Damon-” Stefan had a warning tone in his voice obviously scared for his life, but the Older Salvatore didn’t care.
“Hope you had fun with the Mystic Queen!” Damon called out to the Hybird, who’s control was far beyond controllable. He smrked. “I know i did.”
The events the proceded as soon as those words were spoken happened in a flash.
Before anybody knew, Damon was sputtering blood as Klaus plunged his hand through his chest, grabbing ahold of the rapidly beating heart. He wanted him to suffer.
“You had fun with the Mystic Queen, eh?” He spat out in pure hostility and revulsion, taking immense pleasure in his suffering “Not as much fun as i’m going to have watching you beg for your miserable little life.”
Damon only began choking on his own blood, as Klaus twisted his heart ever ao slightly. He was surely going to kill him, as the rest watched in horror, not daring to say anything in protest.
“Alright,” Kol approached his brother carefully. “That’s enough, Nik.”
Klaus barely heard him, preparing to kill the Salvatore in front of him. Elena cried silently at the scene, Stefan and Bonnie seemingly frozen in place, when his hand left Damon’s body. Empty.
“You aren’t worth the energy i give in killing you,” He whispered menacingly. Damon breathed heavily, dropping to the floor in an instant as his life was spared. Elena and Bonnie ran to him.
“Bloody hell,” Kol mumbled as he opened his car door. “Everyone needs to get in the car immediately.”
Elena held Damon as Bonnie, Stefan and Klaus stared at Kol. He held the map in his hands, sighing heavily as he got in.
“Let’s find Caroline.”
—————
“What the hell are we doing here?”
Katherine and Caroline stood in the middle of Bourbon street, New Orleans.
“A witch i’ve had the pleasure of meeting recently resides here,” Katherine responded, making her way through the crowd of tourists. “I need something of hers.”
“And it just so happened to be here of all places?” Caroline complained. “I hate New Orleans.”
“I could imagine why,” Katherine snickers as she effortlessly pushed he way through the crowd. “I don’t think your boyfriend is here, cupcake. Don’t worry.”
Caroline grumbled under the breath as she followed the doppelgänger’s lead. It was infuriating, really. New Orleans was the last place she’d wanted to go, and for what? A stupid witch?
“Just hurry up, I wanna get out of here as soon as possible.”
After what seemed like a couple minutes, the pair had reached the cemetery. It was just as Katherine had remembered when she was led here by Klaus, the link she’d needed desperately lifted thanks to Elijah Mikaelson
God, Original men were so incredibly stupid.
She made her way into the cemetery, Caroline following suit stubbornly. It was eerie, the aura of death and magic fully present in the air. She smiled, knowing that the witch was close.
“Hello!” Katherine called out all of a sudden. “Where are you?”
The blonde stood perplexed as she leaned against a tomb stone. That must be the witch that Katherine had required the services of. She’d hoped that they would show up already, wanting to get out of this city as quickly as possible.
“If you scream like that, you’ll wake the dead.”
Katherine smiled.
The doppelgänger turned to face the woman that’d appeared out of nowhere, a pleasant expression on her face. “I was wondering if you’d still be here.”
Caroline examined the witch. She was beautiful, her long black hair reaching her waist. There was something in her eyes, however. They shone with a twisted darkness, which would unsettle anyone.
“Of course i’d be here, Katerina. You have something i desperately require.”
“Conveniently, so do you.”
The woman smiled, sitting down at her alter that’d consisted of black candles instead of white. It was vast, and dark substances were spread out on the dirt.
She was practicing black magic.
“This is my friend, Caroline Forbes.” Katherine gestured. “She’s just tagging along for the ride.”
“Nice to meet you...uh?” She stopped mid sentence, waiting for a name.
“Amelia,” The woman answered with a sickly sweet smile. “Amelia Bennett.”
——————
masterlist
#the vampire diaries#the originals#tvd#klaus mikaelson#caroline forbes#klaroline#dark klaroline#tvd au#klaroline au#klaus x caroline#the vampire diaries fanfiction#tvd fanfiction#the originals au#stefan salvatore#katherine pierce#damon salvatore#the originals fanfiction#tvd one shot#the vampire diaries one shot
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Sleeping Dragons
Summery - After a very bad shift over University Break Runa is ready to kill someone... until she sees the most adorable sight the cafe has to offer.
Just a pure fluffy piece with some very minor cannon bending/alterations.
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She was done. Finished. Over it. Every other variation of “fed up” that could be imagined. If she had to deal with ONE more giant slug lecturing her on the finer points of cabbage preparation, she was going to be arrested again. For murder, this time, not a simple misdemeanour.
She announced this in the most nonverbal way possible whilst retaining her job. She attempted to drive her flats through the floor with every short, choppy stride she took. Every breath was punctuated with a loud huff, her best imitation of a dragon, one might conclude. A nymph blanched, raising the menu to hide her face as the Waitress passed. A centaur’s hooves clicked nervously against the floor. Emeril was intelligent enough to swerve the guests she was seating out of the Waitress’ way. Nobody was foolish enough to risk her wrath on the best of days, and this was far from a good day for one Runa Amberthorn.
The day had begun with accidentally waking an unusually moody Rong. That encounter started with outrage, ended with flame and singed pink hair. Then, there was the delay in pastries during the morning rush. Finally, it was that damned Slug. If his lecture wasn’t bad enough, he’d then tossed his soup AT her. Said soup was currently dripping from the tip of her nose. She was positive she’d be smelling the potent spices Roman had used for a week.
“Runa!” A female voice cut above the din of the cafe. Of course, there was always one person who didn’t get the hint. This time, that person was Nysa. An impossibly tall, lanky young woman who looked up (figuratively) to Runa as a big sister.
“Not now!” Runa barked, foot already resting on the first stair. All she needed to do was storm up them and she’d finally be away from the pesky customers. Away from talking Plants and walking Catfish. From prissy Lions with too much mane gel, and haughty Faeries.
“Its just that Amber didn’t want t-” Nysa’s voice faded off uncertainly. Runa’s glare had effectively silenced the other waitress. Without heed, the Charm Magician turned and continued up the stairs. Nysa’s hushed words and frantically waving hands were ignored. An irritation at the corner of Runa’s vision. Whatever it was could wait. Runa knew Amber, how the recently awoken Rong would take every opportunity to speak directly. The absence of a binding spell was staggering to them both. A rug pulled from beneath their feet. A missing sense. Despite the spell having been broken, their bodies refused to obey. They remained highly attuned to one another, enough that their hearts skipped a beat when entering one another’s presence. Consciously or not. Living side by side, it was a feeling Runa was familiar with. A skipped heartbeat stopped her dead in her tracks when she reached the top of the stairs. There was a thud. Nysa had bumped into Runa. She caught herself, letting her sentence trail off.
“-Be woken up...”
Strewn across the aged wooden coffee table were several books. The wings of a dragon spanned the sprawled open pages. Red stood out against the whites of paper clouds. Blue flames sparked between teeth. Two white mugs, rims covered with dried coco trails, sat beside the books, both emptied. These were only briefly noted by Runa. Her attention was stolen by the sight on the couch.
Amber was simply beautiful. All delicate curves and a notably feminine gentleness wherever Runa’s eyes wandered. A mass of golden brown spilled over the arm of the couch, golden brown waves cascading from above smooth, relaxed brows down to the middle of her back. A delicate nose perched on her face, with just enough hinting of a curve to give the finest touch of regality. It was a nose that was always active, with thin nostrils flaring at every new scent. Long lashes kissed the tops of Amber’s cherub cheeks, which invited the gentlest caress to trace along the curve to her refined jaw. Upon her petite lips lingered traces of a content smile; a smile so infectious it seemed to cause the air itself to pulse with a sense of peace with every breath.
One leg flopped off the couch, leaving her bare foot placed solidly on the ground. Amber’s lithe torso was sheltered by her uniform jacket, along with the slumbering form of a small Toddler. Amber had put her own arm through the wrong hole of the jacket, using it to form a net to protect the boy from falling off of her chest. Her other arm wrapped over the bundle, cradling the child close to her petite breasts. The Toddler, Cy, snored happily, burrowing his chubby face into the safety of Amber’s warm neck. Runa knew the appeal, after all, she had sought refuge there many times. Sought, and found. The scene almost reminded of a mother dragon, folding her wing over her egg in an effort to shield her babe from the harsh world.
“She really is amazing with him.” Nysa’s soft whisper wasn’t enough to tear Runa’s gaze away.
“Yeah. She is.” Runa agreed in a sweet whisper. It was enough to cause Nysa’s attention to snap to Charm Magician. A soft smile was birthed upon Runa’s lips as she watched the softly snoring woman and toddler. She couldn’t fight how her cheeks began to ache, nor the intense burning through her veins. Patches of heat lingered everywhere, warming her until she felt she may actually glow like an ember before it erupted into flame.
“She really is a fighter for the underdog.” Nysa noted with an awed tone. She stepped closer to Runa, watching the amusement flare across the Charm Magician’s face.
Runa remembered the scene when Cy had first arrived at Sweet Enchantments, and it was not a pretty one. An exhausted toddler had stumbled in wearing clothing several sizes too small, torn and cut to “fit”. His shirt not only restricted the movement of his arms but failed to cover his thin belly. Dirty wee toes poked out of holes in worn little shoes. His torn trousers dis nothing to conceal his bruised knees, which were crusty with dried blood. The poor boy dragged a bag used for disposal, which was entirely too large for him. In it were all his old belongings, no toys and clothes too small to be from even the same year. Nysa had broken. The young woman had sobbed violently, pleading for help from the adoption worker. The suited Lion had the decency to look apologetic, at least, but beyond that provided no help. No acceptable reason for Cy’s condition. All the Lion could state was that the family had chosen not to adopt him once his magic had shown. Dark magic. Exactly like his lowlife father. Amber had descended like a storm of holy wrath. In a few seconds, the child was in her reassuring arms, bag hanging from her hands and the darkest scowl anyone had ever seen plastered across her usually sweet face.
What followed was a tirade of outrage; words so cutting and criticising that the entire cafe had frozen in horror to listen. The Rong was utterly ruthless, decimating every procedure related to Cy with violent head bobs towards his condition when appropriate. She demanded explanations for why a blind eye was turned to the very evident neglect. She expressed how utterly inept the screening process of adopting families if such a discriminatory family could get their hands on a vulnerable child. How disgusting the utter lack of support was for the mother, who clearly had no better options for her baby. Next, she turned her focus on the Lion himself. How he could be so clueless as to the system that he couldn’t even offer her a direction to look. How he couldn’t even offer a moment of compassion to clean the dirty boy. It was believed that Lions rarely cowered, however Amber had the seven-foot creature shaking in his expensive shoes with the power of her rage. Amber had gone further, outright disapproving of the classist society that would punish an innocent boy for something beyond his control. Her conclusion: anybody who approved of this had better get the fuck out of the cafe before she lost it.
Nysa had stood there gaping. Emeril had actually taken shelter behind her hostess podium. Lucien and Roman had both watched from the entrance to the kitchens. Zane had walked into the room with the guests at the bar; his jaw dropped in utter awe. Liora herself had been halfway down the stairs, her calm demeanour concealing hesitation to intervene. Plates dropped from Runa’s hands, the smash the only sound in the cafe save the snarling breaths from Amber. Then, the break in tension everyone needed. Cy had begun to laugh.
There had never been a discussion over whether Cy was staying. Not with the Government, not with the Adoption Agency and certainly not with Liora. Silently, everyone involved had decided it best not to tempt fate when a maternal, hormonal human dragon was involved. Adapting to Cy had proven rather easy. He was Nysa’s son, but Amber was his protector, the dragon encircling the slumbering prince. He adored Emeril and her younger sisters, who came by frequently on the weekends. Liora and Lucien had earned the titles of Nana, much to Lucien’s abrasive disapproval. Apparently, his apron was a dress, and his objections entertained the toddler immensely. Roman was often called Braba, which the Chef took graciously. Zain, remarkably, had almost cried when Cy had timidly called him daddy for the first time. What perhaps had been the biggest shock, however, was how he addressed Runa. The Charm Magician was never given a family title, nor a role in the boy’s life that could be noted. Instead, she received something far more possessive than anyone had anticipated. Runa, to Cy, had become ine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he intended the name to begin with an M. Runa had simply shrugged it off, assuming he had picked it up from Dante, or from Amber… honestly, the Charm Magican couldn’t quite tell.
“Trust me.” Runa began gently, her lips twitching into one of her rarest smiles as she watched the peaceful pair. Nysa had been privy to the later days. Days where Amber stepped up and helped the new staff learn whilst Runa was buried under legal documents. Nysa had watched Amber’s dedication to seeing Runa achieve college, to keep driving the Charm Magician forwards through everything. Yet, Nysa had never seen the early days. The days where, even timid as a mouse, Amber’s eyes blazed with determination. The girl who thrived off arguments with Runa, then burned the cafe with her redirected focus. That girl who would take no bullshit and give no excuse. The girl who had faced down giant wolves and driven herself to a magical blackout JUST for the slimmest of chances to save her friend. Nysa had seen that drive, but Runa would argue only she had experienced EVERY side of Amber’s stubbornness. Runa had started out as an obstacle, then a petulant child throwing a tantrum. She’d thrown her own will against Amber’s, locked horns, expected to win. When Amber flowed into another tactic, Runa had lost her footing. Even now, she continued to slip and slide deeper under the Rong’s spell. Runa wasn’t sure when she’d decided to enjoy the ride instead of fighting the force of nature, only that it had seemed like her idea. Thinking on it, that was probably Amber’s working. The gentle, disarming kindness getting under Runa’s plating. Rusting her defence from the inside out.
“You really have no idea.” She concluded. Well, she guessed she shouldn’t be so surprised. Afterall, she did have a knack for picking up dragons.
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Standards - A Gift
Rating: T
Paring: Sans x OC Luna
Word Count: 3,162
@rosedarkfire Hey! I was your secret Santa ^^; for the @undertalesecretsanta event! XD I used some of your personal names for the boys and your OC i hope you like it <3 My first time writing him heh.
Black liked Luna, really liked her.
She was kind, funny, smart, but most of all had a back bone strong enough to rival his own.
He just couldn’t stand the fact he kept messing up with her.
“Hey Sans, what do you think of this for the Christmas tree?” Black loved that she called him by his given name, it was like a reward to hear it in this mashed together universe of duplicates.
Even if she only said it in private.
He eyed the butterfly themed tinsel in her hands.
“I AM SURPRISED YOU WOULD CHOOSE BUTTERFLIES.” No he wasn’t, that was that infuriating murderer’s nickname for her.
“Oh why do you say that?” Luna asked with genuine confusion in her mismatched eyes.
“BECAUSE BUTTERFLIES ARE AN INFERIOR FORM OF INSECT, USING BEAUTY AS A FORM OF DEFENSE IS SUCH A COWARDLY ACT. WHY NOT BEETLES OR SOMETHING? BEETLES DON’T LIVE UNDER A FALSE PRETENSE OF BEAUTY BUT ARE OPEN ENOUGH TO EMBRACE THEIR UNATTRACTIVENESS BY HAVING EVOLUTIONIZED THEIR EXO--”
“Okay. I get it Black.” It was easy to tell when he’d upset her. She’d call him that infuriating amalgam of color nickname. Luna pinned her heterochromic gaze on him.
“And butterflies are amazing; they drink blood like little fluttering vampires.” Black could only blink as she walked away from him.
And so that’s how their relationship usually went.
“Sans, what do you think of strawberry pudding for dessert?”
“WHY STRAWBERRY?”
“...You don’t like strawberry?”
“...IT’S FINE. IF YOU MAKE IT I’LL EAT THAT RIDICULOUS SLOP OF POINTLESS SUGAR.” To his confusion Luna had chosen to simply not make dessert at all that night. Much to the disappointed mumbling of his brother and their alters.
Even receiving gifts from her, which always made him immeasurably happy, was difficult.
“I got you something Sans!”
“WHAT IN ANGEL’S NAME IS THIS?”
“...It’s a jacket?”
“I AM AWARE OF THAT LUNA, WHY IS IT PURPLE?”
“I thought purple would pop with the red you usually wear.” His eyelights drifted slowly down to the purple and poorly dyed jean jacket where they lingered and constricted into fine points before just as slowly rising to look at her again.
He usually bristled whenever a human used the term monster as an insult to describe something, however he could only think of a particularly offensive statement he’d heard once from a favored designer of his. Black was holding a literal fashion monstrosity in his hands.
But Luna looked so excited and eager for his reaction, her eyes sparkling and proud.
He cleared his throat.
“...FINE, I SUPPOSE I’LL TRY THIS TRAVESTY OF A GIFT.”
“...”
Black had thought he’d been generous with the humble remark; there was so much alternative vocabulary that he could’ve used to describe how horrible that jacket had looked.
Honestly he thought he’d complimented it.
Black had even let it touch his body as he’d tried it on. Somehow he’d still ended up…disappointing her.
Which was admittedly worse than her anger.
He’d spent the whole time in the shower afterwards grumbling as he’d tried to scrub away the memory of that awful thing on him, half practiced phrases and comments that never seemed to work washed away by the pouring water.
The shower drain embarrassingly enough had even seemed to judge him.
To his chagrin he’d reached the point he’d finally decided to ask his brother for advice.
Stars help him.
“LUNA NEVER SEEMS TO APPRECIATE THE LENGTHS I GO TO FOR HER.” He growled.
“you’re not exactly graceful mi’lord when it comes to criticism.” Black had felt insulted.
“NOT GRACEFUL!?” Rus chuckled as his sockets crinkled in veiled humor.
“she’s a human female, they tend to be super sensitive to even the slightest provocation.” That was an annoying concept to learn. Turned out even his tamed honesty was still too harsh for her. Black took his brother’s advice to heart.
It was advice better stated in theory than put into practice he soon learned.
He stared at the dress Luna was wearing.
It wasn’t anywhere close to complimenting her beauty; in fact the makeup of the material rather dimmed the brightness of her soul as well as her eyes. It was a simple conclusion to reach that it was a horrible example of a dress worthy of the human’s appeal.
But she had personally picked it, liked it.
It made him uncomfortable just how awful her fashion tastes were.
Made it so difficult to be genuine with her.
“IT’S…” He gritted his teeth.
What was the proper word to use so as not to insult her? Adequate? No that would insinuate that it was somehow satisfactory. Tolerable? Might be too insulting of a word.
Black hated liars and he refused to be one, but he desperately wanted to show he supported her decisions. The longer he took fishing for the right word the more he could see Luna’s demeanor falling.
“...MANAGEABLE?” Her nose did that adorable habit where it scrunched up as she looked at him thoughtfully.
“Manageable.” She wanted him to elaborate. He could do that. Just no ranting he silently chided himself, ranting would invalidate not only his opinion but could do so with hers as well.
“...IT…” Black’s words died in his nonexistent throat.
Okay he apparently couldn’t elaborate without going into a triad. They both stared at each other silently and as a sweat drop began to run down the side of his skull he made an executive decision.
He couldn’t insult her if he wasn’t near her.
Black missed how Luna’s eyes had widened as he abruptly turned and walked away from her. His hurried steps the only sound before the opening and closing of her door.
Luna...didn’t talk to him for a week.
Each day that passed killed him a little inside whenever he’d see her talking to one of his duplicates, interacting with his own brother with barely a glance in his direction. She’d even gone so far as to walk away from him when he’d simply greeted her, much the same as he had done concerning her dress.
He’d immediately understood why she’d been acting the way she had the moment she did so.
Black hadn’t realized how painful the action had been to her.
According to his brother he was moping the whole day after his realization and most of the morning. Hadn’t felt that way but it seemed him yelling more than usual was somehow depressing to his sibling.
That’s how Black ultimately ended up being drug out to go Christmas shopping. Which in itself was a red flag for the shorter skeleton.
Rus dragged him out of the house.
Maybe he had been moping.
“see anything good mi’lord?” Black flickered his eyelights dully over to his brother from where they’d been resting on a jewelry display.
“HARDLY.” Rus hummed as he sauntered up next to him, a bag of purchases already somehow slung over his arm. Black stopped questioning how he managed to suspiciously acquire things some time ago.
“y’know i think she likes galaxy themed clothing.” Black scoffed as he gestured at the entirety of the mall.
“AS IF THIS PATHETIC ATTEMPT OF A STOREFRONT WOULD CARRY ANYTHING WORTHY OF BEING CALLED GARMENTS.” Rus snickered.
“think i know the problem mi’lord.”
“DO YOU?” He asked absently, his eyelights refocusing on the necklaces currently hung up. All plated metals with hardly a solid piece of pure gold in sight. Even those claiming the label had obvious traces of other impurities mixed in.
Humans were such lazy creatures when it came to production.
“your standards are too high.” He let out a frustrated growl. Like his brother had any right to discuss standards. He couldn’t even be bothered to buy new shirts when he needed them, even the cheap off brand ones that Black hated due to their low thread count.
“MY STANDARDS ARE JUST FINE. IT’S NOT ASKING TOO MUCH FOR THE BARE MINIMUM.”
“that’s just it sans.” Black felt his soul give a jolt. He gave his brother a glance that was practically vulnerable; his older brother rarely ever used his given name anymore even when alone together.
Papyrus was serious.
“the bare minimum to you, isn’t the same for luna.” Black didn’t respond at first, his eyelights lowered in concentration before he finally let out a sigh. Of course the mutt would be right. His eyelights lit up as an idea hit him.
“I’LL BE HOME LATE.” Rus didn’t stop him as he vanished into the void.
“guess i should tell everyone you’ll be late for gift opening then.” He muttered as he shifted the bags on his arm. It was a good thing he supposed that he already bought his brother’s gift selections for the others.
Luna was giggling as she opened the little blue and white snow patterned box Classic had given her, a ring tinged grey with lines of silver etched into it greeting her. Her eyes lit up as she looked up at him.
“Is this meteorite?” He hummed his confirmation as he plucked it from the box and slipped it onto her pinky finger.
“figured someone as beautiful as a star deserved something out of this world.” There were groans but Luna could only blush as she embraced him, her arms twining around his shoulders effortlessly.
“Thank you Sans.”
“okay enough lovey dovey crap, open mine next.” Crimson huffed as he carelessly shoved Classic aside to drop his gift in her lap. She tried not to snort at how affronted Classic looked, her eyes panning the gathering of skeletons briefly before smiling at Crimson as she unwrapped his present.
By the time Luna finished going through everyone’s gifts Black still hadn’t returned and she was growing quickly concerned.
Looking over from the pile of gift wrap Valiant and Lolli had buried her in she locked eyes with Rus. Who was currently handing a shopping bag to Edge. Of course Rus hadn’t bothered to wrap any of his presents besides hers.
She didn’t even need to say anything.
“mi’lord said he’d be late, don’t worry princess.” Luna frowned; it wasn’t like him at all to be late for any gathering. Maybe she had been a bit too harsh to him.
It was as everyone was getting ready to eat when Black finally showed back up. The first thing Luna did was stand and go over to him, abandoning her place at the table. He oddly blushed purple.
“Black I--”
“COME WITH ME FOR A MOMENT.” Luna blinked curiously but followed, ignoring the inquisitive looks that the others were giving as she was led upstairs.
Black was nervous.
He wasn’t exactly experienced with showing his emotions let alone talking about them. But still he was resolved when he’d seen how willing Luna was to follow his request. It was obvious his prolonged absence had ignited a spark of guilt in her.
She shouldn’t have felt guilty; if anything her anger was more than deserved.
Once they were both in his room he casually latched the door and wandered over to the glass doors that led to the house balcony, his hands folding behind his back. It had taken an age to procure this room he remembered. Probably wouldn’t even have it if it wasn’t for Luna siding with him against Classic like she had.
How to start this? Black could already feel her eyes burning into his spine.
“I AM A RENOWNED TACTICIAN, AN INSPIRATION WHEN IT COMES TO MY PEERS IN REGARDS TO CHIVALRY AND CLASS.” He took a breath and turned to face her, his eyelights focusing on the adorable freckles dotting her face rather than the windows to her soul. “INFAMOUS EVEN FOR MY SERVICES TO THE CROWN.”
Luna was watching him carefully as he scratched wearily at the back of his skull.
“I HAVE DONE MANY THINGS; SLAUGHTERED COUNTLESS FELLOW MONSTERS AND HUMANS ALIKE, TORTURED IN THE NAME OF MY QUEEN, LAUGHED AT THE POINTLESS DISPLAYS OF MARTYRS WHO FOUND IT FIT TO REBEL AGAINST A LAW THEY SIMPLY DIDN’T AGREE WITH BECAUSE THEY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND IT.” He was ranting again he realized.
Best to make his point known sooner than later.
“WHAT I AM TRYING TO SAY IS I COULD BEST BE DESCRIBED AS CRUEL AND HEARTLESS, INDIFFERENT.” Black’s voice lowered and Luna was shocked at how soft his tone was.
“Even When I Try Not To Be.” Something didn’t sit right in her chest at how vulnerable he sounded, nearly regretful. Luna looked down at her feet torn between wanting to comfort him and wanting to let him finish what he had to say. She knew he could be easily upset when others interrupted him.
His hands clenched into fists behind his back.
“I...Have Never Regretted My Actions. Not For A Single Horror I’ve Done Nor Word I’ve Said. But I Do Regret How I’ve Inadvertently Treated You.” Luna whipped her head up and she had to bite her lip to stop the gasp at how soft his eyelights looked.
They were so resigned.
“I Believe It’s Obvious, But Just In The Off Chance It Isn’t I Will Say I Do Care For You Just As Much As Those Ruffians Downstairs Do. IF NOT MORE!” He couldn’t help adding that last part and Luna rewarded the flounder with a chuckle causing another blush to violently flare across his face. It had felt like years since he’d heard her laugh last.
Turning to the side he offered a hand out to her.
Luna felt her heart skip at how the moonlight from the window seemed to highlight his form, making his exposed bones shimmer ethereally and his uniform to stand out with shadows tracing the bends and curves of it.
Black’s soul gave a pleased thrum as she stepped forward and slipped her hand in his. He rarely touched anyone, hardly had ever had contact with her. So it was with no small amount of secret enthusiasm as he rediscovered just how small her hand was to his. Luna had always been charmingly smaller than him and his sibling’s alters, even Valiant the shortest.
He opened the glass doors and led her to the balcony.
The wind was slightly chilled, but Luna marveled all the same at the view of the lake in the distance, the snow gathered in a thin sheet across the ground like a winter wonderland of ice and cold. One of the advantages Black had always provided her since helping him get the room was the freedom he gave her to come and go from the perch.
As Luna let herself drift Black pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.
“Luna.” She turned and Black’s breath caught at how beautiful she looked. He smiled as he held the gift out to her. She quirked a brow.
“Sans?” He almost purred at hearing his name.
“Open It.” She gave a curious smile as her hands gently opened the box, the action making Black’s soul thrum furiously in his chest. Her eyes lit up and he couldn’t resist smiling smugly at the automatic approval he saw in them.
“...Wow, It’s wonderful.”
Black felt his ribs swell with pride as Luna’s eyes widened, her cheeks turning pink as she lifted the choker from the box. He caught a glimpse of the ring Classic had given her but that mattered little to the gift he now presented.
Luna looked up as he gestured for it and it took a great effort to hand it over.
“My Lady.” He prompted as he held it between his phalanges. Her blush turned red in intensity as she caught on he wanted to put it on for her, even more so at the title he used.
His lady. Why did that make her so giddy?
Black was blushing like a fool as she turned her back to him and lifted the soft chestnut locks of her hair, exposing the pale skin of her neck. It didn’t help the warm feeling in his chest at the slight shaking he caught in her shoulders. She was just as nervous and excited as he was.
Carefully, with a slowness that wasn’t necessary just so he could enjoy the sight of her tilted head and the way she ran her thumb into the hair she held back for him he gingerly slipped his arms over her. Enjoyed feeling how his normally despised height dwarfed her as he tenderly latched it.
When she turned to face him Black felt his eyelights morph.
The gem at the center of the silk choker was swirling with purple and red magic against a black backdrop, not as a claiming display exactly but as an acknowledgment of whose protection she was under.
A small galaxy on her delicate throat.
He softly brushed a phalange against it not noticing the enamored way her vision was locked on his heart shaped eyelights.
She had never seen those hardened and unwavering orbs change shape in the whole time she’d known him. Luna had even seen Classic’s and Crimson’s change a time or two but never Blacks. She hadn’t known he was capable of it.
His inverted hearts flickered up to her.
“I’m Sorry My Actions Haven’t Been Pleasant Towards You. I Only Ask Of You To Remember Always...What You Mean To Me.” Luna smiled playfully.
“And what would you mean by that kind sir?” His sockets lidded and the smile he gave nearly rivaled Valiant’s with how dopey it was.
Luna’s world froze at the sight and she wished more than anything she had a camera on her. It felt like a moment that would only ever happen once in a lifetime.
Black’s answer changed in the span of a second. His initial response lacking for just how strongly he felt for her. He didn’t even hesitate as he realized it.
“I Love You. With Every Amount Of Affection And Bit Of My Soul I Can Give.”
Tears sprang to Luna’s eyes as she stared at him before slowly running her arms over his shoulders, giving him time to pull away if he wanted. Instead his arms encircled her waist making her heart pound and stomach flutter as he tilted her head back with his other hand.
His bony lips locked with hers and an array of emotions surged through the both of them; fear, misunderstanding, cautiousness, eagerness, love, and wholeness. Luna and Black broke apart for air and all the human woman could do was stare at the skeleton holding her in a daze.
Kissing her was everything he’d ever imagined it to be.
“Manageable?” She teased. The top of Black’s skull flexed with the impression of a raised eyebrow as he smirked and cupped her chin.
“Glorious.” He pulled her in for another kiss as he whispered against her lips. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.” She responded breathlessly.
#UTSS#Secret Santa#Undertale#Swapfell#Christmas#Sans x OC#Fanfiction#AU#alternate universe#Gift#TheMsource#RoseDarkFire#Love#Miscommunication#Papyrus#Fellswap#my art#drawing#My writing
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So I have a magnus archives playlist
I’ve been making a long chronological Magnus Archives playlist for my own amusement (So This Is Basically The Magnus Archives) , but since season 5 is close and my college kicked everyone out i decided to Do Something Unnecessary.
I have taken painstaking effort to not only properly organize this stupid thing with specific tma episodes, but also have documented the episodes as well as why I included the songs (under the cut). This is my Magnum Opus. I have officially pulled an all nighter to work on this. AND i’m making another playlist with songs that I wanted to keep tabs on in case I end up needing to use them as s5 comes out (here) Spoiler warning obviously
Please send me some songs if you follow the playlist and think they should be on there!
TLDR - Grace for sale = season 1 finale; Bad Bad Things = season 2 finale; Greatest Show Unearthed = season 3 finale; Just Did a Bad Thing = Season 4 finale.
I bold the songs I added most recently. Honestly I recommend listening to the playlist first because its way fun and like referencing this if you really care about it. Please give me song suggestions or alterations!
Song Name - MAG00 - PoV/Sung at/etc; Event. NA = Not Applicable
The Office Theme - NA
memes
Turn The Lights Off - MAG 01
The whole “Dont go in there” theme is applicable to the danger of the Angler fish, which also parallels that first statement acting as a lure for Jon
Don’t Worry We’ll Be Watching You - NA
I didn’t want to comb through to find an episode where Jon says hes being watched. I might move this somewhere else because it’s really slow for the begining of the playlist. Maybe where he went to America
Somebody’s Watching Me - NA
Same as above + memes
Bloody Nose - MAG 17 - PoV Jared Hopworth
the boneturner’s tale statement
Grace For Sale - MAG 39 - PoV Jane Prentiss; S1 Finale
I didn’t know this was part of a whole carnival themed album when I added it, but I felt that the themes of shedding your skin and worms were relevant enough. Still looking for a good song for the s1 finale tho :/
I Don’t Trust You Anymore - MAG 40/41 - PoV Jon
Immediately after the Worm Attack, Jon realizes he can’t trust anyone in the archives.
Losing My Mind - NA - PoV Jon
Jon makes a lot of mentions of his paranoia thruout this season and I feel it just fits best here
Little Pistols - NA - PoV Jon
Same as above, but its like Really Sad because this one paints the paranoia as much more self-destructive.
Afraid - MAG 77 - Multi PoV/Sasha
Jon just realized the NotSasha replaced Sashsa. Could be from Sasha or NotSasha or even Jon realizing the implications a shapeshifting creature, just fkcn love the chorus for the whole NotSasha fiasco
Mr Capgras - MAG 78/79 - Sung by the NotThem
Jon’s a huge idiot and the NotThem is Out For Blood
Bad Bad Things - MAG 80 - PoV Elias; S2 Finale
Bitch boy Murkd Leitner and Gertrude and he’s an asshole for it
Its not overly literal but i think some characters in the song could be interpreted as Leitner and Gertrude, with the POV Elias speaking to Jon.
I’m Not Ok - MAG 81 - PoV Jon
Georgie pls....help this nasty man
The Cult of Dionysus - NA
Honestly this isn’t very specific at all there’s just a lot more cult activity in this season and this song lines up well with the next few
Rejoice - MAG 89 - PoV Jude Perry/Lightless Flame
this ep is jude’s statement and this is a Good cult song
Bust Your Kneecaps - MAG 67 - PoV Agnes Montague
Keeps with the theme better here than in order with s2. Statement of cafe boy who tried to romance Agnes that one time
Are Things Still Burning - MAG 67/89 - PoV Agnes Montague
You’ll get it.
I’m Gonna Win - MAG 101 - PoV Gertrude or Michael
Really connect this song with gertrude’s Bad Bitch energy and MAG 101 is the episode where we really get a scope of how morally gray she is
But the overall cocky tone of the song is real good for Michael
The Distortionist - MAG 101 - PoV Michael
this ep is Michael’s statement.
Its kind of hard to tell because of the vocaloid, but the song's character seems to have been pushed and manipulated into something like Michael. I can see the song shifting from Michael singing about how Gertrude created him into accepting it and them singing at Jon
Has wayyyyy too much Spiral imagery to not include
Seven Devils - MAG111 - PoV Gerard Kaey
this is the ep where Gerard properly explains the fears to Jon
Dirty Night Clowns - MAG 104 - PoV Tim Stoker?
sort of Tim about his brother
Blood End Credits - no MAG/MAG 119 - PoV Tim Stoker
god i miss tim. I don’t think it translates exactly to 119, but it’s more of the climax of his character arch. He’s literally given everything to the Institute and to Elias and now he has to fucking die? FUck.
Greatest Show Unearthed - MAG 139 - PoV Nikola/The Circus
This one is literal lol. u can figure it out
My Time - MAG 120/121 - Sung about Jon
*Mable pines picture* “He’s resting”
Who Are You, Really? - MAG 121 - Sung at/for Jon
Jon has to decide whether to let himself die human or risk becoming a monster to protect the people he loves*
*Martin
Cold Cold Man - MAG 124 - PoV Jon
This is the first time Jon and Martin have seen each other since he woke, and I think really the first time Jon has sought out Martin because he just...wanted to see him
Ruler of Everything - MAG 124 - PoV Martin
This is Martin’s side of the exchange he and Jon had. This is where he started pushing Jon away (Shot as wily one/only friend), and Peter is making him into the “ruler of everything” aka running the Institute, and just doing his best to go one day at a time until whatever Peter has planned gets done
Catabolic Seed - MAG 125 - PoV Melanie
Honestly, I just really wanted this song for melanie. The Magnus Institute is taking too much out of her, making her into a hollow, and she’s just trying to keep herself together with emotional duct tape
Body - MAG 131 Build Up - PoV Jon
I see this as the culmination of Jon’s survival guilt and desperation to make himself worthy of humanity again. Since he has a healing factor now, he has no sense of self-preservation and is willing to sacrifice his entire body to make himself worthy of humaity.
Skeleton Appreciation Day - MAG 131 - PoV Jared Hopworth
THE MEATBONE MANNNN
What Am I Becoming? - MAG 146/147 - PoV Jon
It hurts
in 146 Jon admited to Basira, Daisy, and Melanie confronted him about his live feedings. 147 Jon realises that he doesn’t want to stop feeding
Human - Mag 147/152 - For Jon
Couldn’t decide where this goes chronologically, but these in these two eps jon is seriously debating his humanity and disturbed that he even needs to do that
Isle Unto Thyself - NA
this fits....somewhere in this season. I believe i see this as Jon singing about Martin’s isolation, but really its just applicable to their whole situation
Train Remastered - MAG 154 - PoV Jon
a fukn EASY one FINALLY.
THis bitch is Jon asking Martin to blind himself with Jon so they can run away together. Their romantic arcs got me feeling all sorts of ways
No Eyed Girl - MAG 157
this is so literal lmao its just Melanie and Georgie
Not Human - MAG 158 - About Daisy
She’s spent so long serving the Hunt and trying to undo its power over her, and she really just Did That(tm) for her friends. We stan a werewolf queen
Monster - Many MAGs
honestly can fit Martin, Jon, Melanie and Daisy at different points, but i think its a good end to Daisy’s character arc currently
Ship In A Bottle - MAG 159 - About Martin and Peter
I like to see this as the climax of Martin’s Loneliness and his relationship with Peter as well as like the culmination of Peter’s deal with Elias and Martin’s Deal with Peter
It’s Alright - MAG 159 - To Jon and Martin
Jon Rescued Martin from the Lonely and is finally able to have a purpose and they are allowed to Be Okay
Honeybee - MAG 160 - PoV Jon
WE STAN TRUE LOVE AND SATISFYING ROMANCE IN THIS HOUSEEEEEEE
Great Vacation - Thematic transition
If Honeybee was the first 2 minutes of 160, then we know what’s coming next. The Scottish Cottage isn’t a vacation
Just Did A Bad Thing - MAG 160
ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
Its the end of the world as we know it - Season 5 trailer
ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
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Sightless Through the Underbrush -- A bit of Fantasy Horror
Illuminated by stubbed candlelight, the good doctor sat over the artifacts of his work. His documents were assembled round his table, hand-drawn diagrams pinned to the fabric walls, dampening – pooling black ink against the canvas of the tent. Otherwise occupied he hadn’t bothered to move them.
It starts with fever, Ardolf wrote, ink scrawling over the paper, it does nothing to treat the fever but cause other symptoms to worsen. This was something the doctor was all too aware of. An awful nausea had churned in his stomach since before he’d traveled out into the Oxlant woods. He’d tried to keep himself busy enough to ignore it, but he hadn’t had any luck. He’d been holed up for days, quarantining himself away as far from human interaction as he could find (Which seemed normal enough for a researcher or a hermit, though it didn’t exactly help the business of a medical doctor). This was a week he had been dreading since the month shifted – he could keep himself upright before and after, but the days leading up-to were torture.
Nausea and headaches, body aches – hot and cold spells – the hunger. Those excruciating pangs of appetite that swelled while the days passed. He didn’t understand exactly why the transformation was at its strongest during the full moon, plenty of people had given him folk-lore and tall-tales, family rumors passed down from father to son. Most he’d spoken to assumed that werewolves were the embodiment of the ‘insanity’ brought on by the moon, a lunar sickness. He hated the name, he hated the whole idea – it was associated with witches, their rituals and spell-casting, how afflicted women would rave away the night of a full moon calling up their demons and imps! He’d treated those women in his career, men, even animals and pets on some occasion. For most of them, he’d decided the best medicine was a quiet room and a warm drink. Some simple comfort to cull the mass hysteria.
Magic was true enough. It was this strange, mystical life that flowed through the veins of the world – but the ritual was almost always for show!
Too often most couldn’t tell the difference.
Ardolf had gotten himself as far out into the forest as he deemed necessary – out past where anyone of average intent would wander. He’d gotten so far out there weren’t even deer to watch, just the still leaves and chattering echos of insects. It was someplace far from the edge of civilization, the purposeful choice for a man trying to save others from having to suffer him –
So, it was understandably strange when he heard, from just the corner of his camp, movement.
After days of nothing but the nightly calm of the forest (at the most crickets and the scathing of beetles), bats or birds making their way through the brush – this specific movement sounded larger than any prey-like animal. It moved more carefully than any predator. If lycanthropy was good for anything, it certainly sharpened the senses.
The noise struck him with a nervous, awful feeling he couldn’t quite place.
His tent was well hidden in the brush, more of an effort against himself that when the moon did come – and he’d transform – he wouldn’t destroy his own things. But he hadn’t put much thought into hiding those things from others. He had assumed there would be no others. But as the sound grew closer it took on a clearly human tone. Footsteps, striding jolts against the soft ground and a mellow dragging. It could’ve been a hunter, though it made no sense for one to be this far out. Course, Ardolf could point out that he was there too – but it would be worrying if another person had come for any of the same reasons. Snuffing his candle, he sat alone as darkness overtook the inside of his tent. Waiting, straining to guess if the sound was human or otherwise. The upside to being so secluded was that he wouldn’t be near anyone he could hurt! The downside being that if something did show up, the closest help was about a day’s journey out through a windingly impossible forest.
The Oxlant was no place for people.
This kind of thought he knew was just his nervousness, anxiety mixed with nausea – it could just as easily be someone lost – someone injured, even. Though he knew better than to sit in the dark theorizing.
His uneasiness tried to keep him in place, but he crept from his stool to the opening of the tent. The canvas panels were clipped together in the middle where he could just barely peer through the slit. The branches that obscured the view of his shelter did just as well obscuring the outside, too. He could see in-between them, barely, though his night vision was substantial it certainly didn’t help him much in the thickened arch of trees. But he did spot the creature he had heard and saw the thing it seemed to be dragging.
More honestly, creatures. Obscured, hooded figures holding dusty items.
They strolled through the undergrowth with their heads lowered; walking like they knew their way without sight. In unison a mass of these forms carried forward – a few held what looked like boxes, one dragged something large behind it with a rope slung over its shoulder. Another pulled in front of the horde, holding a beaten lantern. The light bearer held their staff tall, trailing an oil-lit light high on a stick in the same vain as a ferryman or hunting party trying to light a large space. The parade worried him more than he had already felt, the motionlessness of their stride – moving but static – and the tenseness they brought into the air as they passed. He wanted to close his tent and pretend he’d seen nothing.
His curiosity gnawed at him, but his common sense pushed to hold it back. It stayed back until his eye caught the form dragged across ground. It bumped, slid, and churned limply over the moss as it was carelessly hauled behind the strangers. Rays of moonlight slid through the overbrush, illuminating the forest in small beams. He squinted, looking closer and in these specks of strained light he saw tattered hands, bound feet, and the barely visible outline of a face. A person, whoever they were, being dragged through the dirt.
Magic was a true enough thing in this world, but most couldn’t tell the difference between the practical and the ritual. What a strong wizard could do alone in his study – a group of warlocks might dawn their robes, recite their enchantments, and murder an innocent to bring the same effect. Ardolf wasn’t magically savvy, but he was almost afraid he would witness what could be that needless kind of ritual.
Unclipping the folds of his tent, he pushed onto the moss – watching as the group wandered farther into the trees. He followed to the best of his own ability. The forest floor sunk under his feet, soil and plant life shifted loosely by his weight. It felt like cotton, a moist carpet that coated the ground. Though he had checked the area plenty of times, following these strangers took him out farther than he had ever gone himself. As they wandered, the grass and leaves turned dry and crushed under their feet. He struggled to stay silent, he wasn’t a thief or a rogue, he couldn’t sneak around like them either! He wasn’t confident, but the party paid him no mind every poor step or crushed stick he tripped up over. In the brush all he could hear was a rattling of trinkets, metal on metal from the boxes and lantern, and the tedious digs of a body in dried mud. But the strangers themselves didn’t make a sound. Wherever they set foot it seemed the wildlife faltered around them.
After days of camping he knew this forest was filled with all the tiny aspects of life: bugs and the crawling things that live where people don’t –
It didn’t just feel strange how quiet it’d become – it was downright unnatural.
He hid behind trees; moving so slowly he could feel his heartbeat in his chest, hear every breath that left his lungs, with all the focus everything else he had almost overlooked how the forest was getting lighter. Moonlight seeped clearer onto the ground as the strangers floated into an opening. Carting out, the trees cut off abruptly, making way for roughed dirt tampered with splotches of trampled grass, yellowed and dead. It all seemed so brittle, so dry and old, nothing like the cold but vibrant life that flourished in the rest of the Oxlant. He hid behind a horde of bushes, watching while the people slid into the center of the small clearing. Behind them as they went about some business of setting and organizing their boxes, he could see an altar. It was just a few feet from him – rock, stained with browns and reds, a formation built up in an almost organic shape, like it was pulled up from the ground instead of carved from chiseled brick.
The smell hit him first.
It was sour and metallic, the odor of old blood – dried against the rock. He was close enough to see the colors of it, brown tinted stone, layers of a bloody, aging crust topped with something more recent. The stench pulled at him, he hated it, but it churned this gnawing pang of appetite in the pit of his stomach.
He knew it was a bad idea to put himself in any sort of dangerous situation so close to the full moon. He knew, though it wasn’t the ‘night of’ he would be tormented by the beast’s clawing, whining from freedom, for action. He’d prepared himself to spare the few trees or so that might’ve gotten in his worst half’s way – but he hadn’t prepared for anything like this. He would’ve had to battle with himself to stay quiet if it wasn’t for the jarring scream that bellowed from the party, faltering into the empty woods.
The bundle they dragged, a woman, had finally woken up.
She shrieked, the sound echoed off the trees and without semblance of hesitation one of the strangers lifted and forced her onto the alter. She fought against them with a mindlessly panicked kind of determination. Ardolf rose, just barely, from the bush. If it were all to go as south as he feared it would, he knew he would never forgive himself if he just sat and watched.
While the few who surrounded the alter fought to keep her in place, it proved in-vain as her thrashing struck the lantern they had set so close to her face, knocking it onto the ground. Oil scattered over the dirt and flame followed, a monstrous fire flashed over the clearing. Though the light only lasted seconds, the men hissed and hid from the blaze. One of them, in a stilted anger, grabbed the woman by her head and covered her mouth with a scaled, wry, hand. She fought against him, but as his fingers dug and pierced her skin her struggling slowed. Her fight turned weak and the cries that deafened the world faltered as she fell backwards into what might as well have been a coma. Ardolf wasn’t sure what kind of magic or poison he’d just witnessed or what it was for, but he knew for certain this person was alive – and that if he didn’t act, she may not stay in that same state for very much longer.
The strangers, content their sacrifice was properly taken care of, motioned away from the alter. Some snuffed the flames that remained and the others formed around the boxes they’d set elsewhere.
With their backs turned, Ardolf crept into the clearing.
Chattering. Like what he’d been hearing days ago when he entered the Oxlant. It was unnoticeable before, but the closer he came to the men the better he could hear their insectile prattling. Something high-pitched and scathing, scratching, whispering unintelligibly among themselves. Their clamoring cut through the suffocating stillness and ran ice down his spine – as much as he wished, he couldn’t move any faster. He shifted, as quietly as he could to the alter. The waft of blood and oil sifted into the air – retching up his nostrils – in his stomach came this boiling of disgust. Though the realization hadn’t gone unnoticed that his mouth started to water. Pushing any straying thoughts to the back of his mind, he focused on attempting to grab the woman. With all attention turned away from him, he lifted her from the alter and tried adjusting her weight over his shoulder.
There wasn’t much to adjust.
She felt so thin, her papery skin barely felt like flesh, he was afraid if he moved her too much it just might rip. His heartbeat drummed; it overlapped the ambiance so loudly he hadn’t noticed the insectoid chattering go quiet. A shadow, tall and unwavering fell over the structure. He saw the shift in the light and against his neck a moist warmth surpassed the coolness of the forest. He hesitated before turning, finding inches from his own face an abomination.
Where one should’ve seen another man’s eyes, seen the sockets and bone that normally made up expression – he only saw bulging skin. A translucent, membranous layer coated above pools of oil; sacks of gelatinous fat held in place with grease. Ardolf was thankful he’d been born strong-willed, otherwise he was certain he might’ve fainted. He was already almost there. In the sockets of its face, murky blacks and blues swam under the transparent skin. There were no pupils, no irises, no whites, but the eyes themselves – the things that overtook the creature’s face weren’t hollow. Instead, he found himself staring into two bulging pockets swollen with liquid – a viscous solution that filled a sack.
Not just as a medical man or man of science and research, but as a human being in a world where daily he saw the outcomes of magic in man and beast alike – Ardolf had never seen a creature like that.
He didn’t move, didn’t breathe with the thing just inches from his face. He’d assumed they were men when he saw them from his tent covered by the hoods and the dark. But they weren’t even close to human – at least they weren’t anymore. He could see where there were once cheekbones and the markings of a mouth, grown over by the translucent skin that held the everything in its proper place.
In his stomach churned the same painful lycanthropic gnawing – it shifted up his organs – a surge of primal horror that threatened his composure. He knew that if he were to turn, his options of escape of would be limited. The most hopeful of these was the thought of tearing the creatures into shreds of grease and bone, somehow convincing himself to turn back to a man, and escaping with the woman. But even with his optimism Ardolf knew how impossible that would be – what was the use of putting in danger the exact person he had come to help?
It would have been stupid.
It was stupid.
#original writing#horror#dark fantasy#cliffhanger#sorry about that#doctor#Ardolf Greymouth#Greymouth#short story#original story#story#writeblr#fantasy#werewolf#werewolves#monster#body horror#stories
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hi!! so happy for you!! im wondering bc im a butch that wants to transition as well, do you present as a "man" irl to avoid confusion? i often have to tell people i'm a trans man in order for them to take me seriously because nobody respects butches
hey bud what’s up! i’m sorry for not seeing this until now, i took the FATTEST of naps but i’m awake now. thank you so much! this is going under a cut because it got long and rambly and repetitive, my bad!
i do not try to present as a man irl, nope! i did get quite happy when a random customer called me “young man” the other day and didn’t correct himself once he saw my face, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that when i’m actually talking to someone for a longer period of time that i’ll make the move to identify myself as a man to them, and then stick with it.
usually i’m cracking dyke jokes because i tend to be extremely loud about what i’m proud of, and my butch identity is so deeply important to me that i refuse to sacrifice it.
because frankly, i’m going to be hypervisible no matter what i do. it’s in the nature of being butch, a lot of the time, and so i’ve chosen to lean heavy into it!
i don’t want to lie about who i am to get manufactured respect that probably isn’t all that sincere from most (read: cishet) people anyway. there’d still be a target on my back if i were trying to present myself as a man, but with the added bonus of knowing i’m not being honest with myself or others. that directly contradicts my personal principles and the value i put on my identity now that i’ve found it.
i demand respect as a butch. if someone doesn’t respect butches, then whether or not i confirm to them in that moment that i am one, their opinion ceases to matter because it automatically excludes me anyway. i’m not gonna waste my time catering to someone who’s respect for other human beings is conditional, y’know? it’s a lot of energy i could be using for other things, like respecting myself and my truth, and leaning into the support of the people who already do respect me as i am.
i fought long and hard to reach this point in my life where everything makes sense, where everything is beautiful and bright and clear and i have never been happier with my identity, my presentation, the support system i’ve surrounded myself with. i’ve spent a long time pretending to be things i’m not just to protect myself or please people who were either actively hurting me or watching others do it, and personally i don’t want to expend the energy to do that anymore! it’s exhausting, it’s distressing, it’s not going to serve me. doesn’t really tend to serve anyone but the people who are too lazy and stupid to just be decent.
if you have to lie to someone or sugarcoat something for them in order to earn their respect, then that’s not the respect that’ll fortify you. it’s not the respect you deserve. you deserve a lot more than that. always have, always will.
that obviously is not to say that anyone who does this for safety or for ease is “weaker” for not being totally honest, because everyone has their reasons for these things and it is literally historically something that many butches chose to do! reading stone butch blues honestly helped give me the courage to really think about top surgery as even being an option for myself, as being something i’m allowed to do as a butch lesbian. transitioning in whatever way you decide to do for your personal comfort and to alleviate dysphoria or mistreatment is your choice and it is a valid one.
just do it for you. for you. no one else.
if you wanna physically alter your body in some way and change how you present yourself to the world because it feels more authentic and comfortable for you? that’s a beautiful thing and no one should ever try to stop you. but that doesn’t mean you have to fabricate the exact reason that you’re pursuing those changes! trans men aren’t the only people who get top surgery/go on hormones/etc. you don’t have to justify your choice to do these things to anyone based on what you think might make it easier for them to swallow. you don’t have to justify or explain, period.
and so to you, i extend the advice i most love to give:
fuck it. FUCK them. if someone has a problem respecting your butch identity, then you don’t need their off-brand respect anyway. you don’t need them. they’re inconsequential in the longrun and they don’t deserve the effort you might be putting in to convince them of something you don’t fully identify with on your own.
it’s definitely easier said than done, to say “fuck it, goodbye” to anyone who disrespects the butch identity, but like. okay, i’ve been through some crap recently that has opened my eyes to a lot of things, including whether or not it’s “worth it” to be so brutally honest about who i am. i’ve lost doctors, jobs, and had to leave school due to discrimination, harassment, and physical assault. trying to pass as a man wouldn’t have saved me from those things, necessarily: it’d just have given these people a different justification for doing it to me.
the conclusion i’ve personally come to for myself is that i’m going to be disrespected no matter what. i’m going to experience lesbophobia and transphobia and all sorts of other things regardless of what i do, and so if i’m going to have to put up with that? i’m going to do it in style.
i’m going to do it in the body i am personally happy with, the body i’ve yearned for, and with the descriptors for that that i’m at home with. i’m going to get rid of the burden that’s been haunting me for so long and i’m going to be content with the things i’ve learned to love enough about myself to keep, and i’m going to confuse the hell out of people with it! and it’s gonna be fun! i’m going to make it fun. getting my top surgery is for my personal comfort, not for the convenience of other people who may or may not find it easier to view me as a man than a masculine/GNC lesbian. if i’m gonna have a target on my back anyway, then i might as well be my sexiest and most authentic self through it! i might as well be true to myself.
i’ll hang around my community of people who understand, and it is their love that will sustain me. it’s the kindness in the eyes of a woman who calls me handsome, it’s the little kid in the bookstore who looks at me in wonder. it’s the friend who asks for clarification of what butch and femme even mean, and who listens with rapture when i tell them. it’s the way i can sit in my kitchen with my previously estranged sister talking for hours like never before, and i can see the way that she’s changed.
that’s the respect that’s worth everything. that’s the good shit! and you WILL get it from the people who MATTER.
point blank: i’m not telling you that it’s an inherently bad or lesser decision to try and pass as a man for ease or safety. if that’s your circumstance, then i wish you all the luck in the world! i just want you to know that if you aren’t happy with it, then you don’t have to do it. you can have so much more.
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Do you have any advice on playing a warlock? I really love the class and abilities, I've wanted to play one for a while now, ans now I have a warlock PC in a new campaign. Yesterday was when we rolled our characters and when it came to picking a patron I was given the choice of an angel/God or a Devil/a demon (it's a homebrew campaign with only those two gods?? DM said so-) so I picked devil because I wanted a fiend patron, then I had to come up with the pact. (1/2)
Keep in mind I am by no means a dnd expert, this is all just my opinion based on personal experience.
Okay first of all, you really should talk to your DM if you wanna change that pact. If they still don’t want to let you change that, then you’ll have to decide whether you still want to play with them or not. If you aren’t actually going to enjoy yourself while playing a character like that, you need to make that very clear because if they absolutely refuse to let you change it then this is gonna sound harsh but they’re a shitty DM. While the DM is in charge of the story, it’s something they build together with the players and there’s no point in doing it if it’s going to make you uncomfortable. You have to honestly let your DM know that you don’t actually like the idea.
That being said, if that ends up being something you want to continue with, I think it’s pretty clear that’s probably not something your character wants to be doing. I figure they’d definitely keep it on the down low from the rest of the party, it’s something they find disgusting and they’re incredibly ashamed of it but it’s something they have to do. If the party does find out, some of the more understanding ones should be able to pick up on the fact that it’s not something your character wants to do but it’s something they’re stuck doing. It could make for some very interesting roleplay and morality questions, and maybe your character’s arc could be about breaking out of their pact so they don’t have to continue doing what they’re doing, something they were too weak or scared to do before but now they’re growing in power and also have the party backing them up. This is actually something that happened with the warlock I played recently, Belfante. Alternatively, you could take a darker approach to it and maybe your character starts to enjoy doing this as time goes on and they grow more powerful due to their patron and sink further into their grasp as their influence is exerted on them. That’s something I’ve rarely seen and that could be super interesting. You could even still manipulate the party to think you’re still unwilling due to your high warlock charisma.
In my experience, warlocks tend to be played one of two ways: either they are completely buying into this mutually beneficial deal (sometimes played more as the two manipulating each other or the patron and warlock are actually benefiting each other because they’re actually friends or both crazy) OR the warlock is trapped in this deal because they majorly fucked up and now they’re stuck doing some weird scary magical creature’s (usually dark) bidding and they want to get out of it but they don’t know how. One that I haven’t really seen before is the patron being trapped in the deal with the warlock which could be fun. Anyways, it sounds like your character is a classic case of the second one, but there’s always the capability to have more nuance to it and make it more of a grey area which you might want to explore. Maybe your character is actually given reason to believe their patron cares about them, or your warlock actually cares about the patron for whatever reason, but they despise what they have to do for the pact and these are some feelings they struggle with. Maybe they like the power and want to find a way to keep it without their patron’s help or requirements.
As for some other ideas you could try in terms of your pact, warlock has a fiend patron so what that fiend wants you to do is probably going to be pretty dark or messed up. Doesn’t necessarily need to go so far as eating your enemies though. One thing you could consider is the fiend you’re bound with. If it’s an actual figure from the official dnd lore then consider what that fiend would want their followers to do for them. Maybe you have to try to convert other people to follow them, maybe you have to meet a quota for that and suffer consequences if you don’t. Your high charisma would help that a lot. Maybe you have to meet a certain quota of blood sacrifices, which would be pretty reasonable if your party gets into a lot of deadly fights. Whatever it is, since your patron is a fiend, it’s probably not going to be pleasant for your character or anyone else involved.
Another thing you could consider is having the pact take a physical toll either in addition to or instead of an action your character has to perform. Maybe it weakens them to do their magic, or maybe it alters their appearance, or it could take a mental toll and change them as a person. Maybe their morals deteriorate. For instance, my warlock Belfante had a thing where the sources of magic on their body started to turn inky black the longer they had their powers. The magic from their eyes turned their scleras black, their hands turned black from the spells they fired from them, their mouth turned black due to their verbal spells, their heart and the space over it did so as well because a lot of their spells would start there and travel outward through their body, and it was never seen or confirmed but I had the idea that their brain also turned black because of the knowledge. It also hurt each time they used magic and also would cause immense pain each time the marks would spread. This happened because their pact involved access to a form of magic that regular ass human bodies aren’t supposed to have access to in the way they did, so it took a toll on their body. Their pact also required them to literally give their patron their soul so their morals tended to deteriorate the longer they lived without it. I dunno, I’m really into the idea of warlocks’ pacts altering them physically. In your case, maybe as time goes on they start to look more fiendish. I’d even be down if you want to use something similar to my idea, I’m almost definitely not the first person to do something like that.
In terms of more general warlock tips, pick the spells and invocations that sound most fun to you. Eldritch blast is a good general damaging cantrip, it might not be the flashiest but it does some good damage and has a decent range, plus it’s great if you have the agonizing blast invocation. But if there are other cantrips you like better, then by all means pass up eldritch blast for those, this is about fun after all. A lot of more general spellcaster tips apply here. When picking your spells, don’t disregard utility for damage! You should have a few good damaging ones under your belt but take a couple that do things other than damage because you might be able to use them as a get out of jail free card. Also, don’t be scared to use your spells! Yes you should use them wisely because you only have so many spell slots, but the thing about warlocks is that the reason they don’t have a whole lot of slots is because when they use a spell it’s like a bomb going off because it’s always used at the highest possible level. I remember being able to take out the majority of an army with a very well-placed black tentacles spell. Also, think about the roleplay in your spells! A warlock’s magic is kind of unstable, they don’t get it from a god they get it from a lower being. Maybe it’s difficult to use or control, maybe it hurts or takes some kind of physical toll. Personalize your spells! What do they look like, what do they sound like, what does your warlock do when they cast it? Also, it’s a good idea to pick spells your patron would give you (like a fiend patron would probably give you access to some very nasty ones), or ones that thematically fit your character (my warlock had a theme about necrotic/poison/acid damage or spells involving dark shit in some form).
Idk, sorry this is kinda rushed I gotta be at my own dnd game here soon but I love talking about warlocks so I wanted to answer this. I hope this helped you in some way, just remember dnd is supposed to be fun for everyone involved and you’ll be fine!
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