#I was just hoarding these for no reason and then I realised oh I have a reddit now
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Some Valyrian/Targaryen/Velaryon names. No expertise here, simply following patterns to see what sounds and looks nice + canon sources and Valyrian dictionary plucks. In chrono & thought order.
Canon — Rhaenys, Rhaena, Rhaella, Rhaenyra, Rhaegel, Rhae, Rhaelle, Rhaegar (All Targ)
Derived — Rhaenion, Rhaenelle, Rhaenella, Rhaegor, Rhaegon, Aenyra, Rhaelion, Rhaenyx, Rhaelyx, Rhaenar, Rhaenyar, Rhaenel, Rhaelys, Rhaevel, Rhaevis, Rhaevys, Viserrhae, Rhaenya, Rhaenior, Rhaenor, Rhael, Rhaen, Rhaejel, Rhaeqan, Rhaellor, Rhaemon, Rhaemond, Rhaenyron, Rhaema
Canon — Aenar, Aegon, Aerys, Aelyx, Aerion, Aethan (1 Velaryon), Vaegon, Aenys, Aerea, Naerys, Aegor, Aelor, Aelora (Rest Targ)
Derived — Aegar, Aelon, Aelys, Aelar, Aelara, Aella, Aelinor, Aeral, Aeron, Aelion, Aegys, Aegal, Aelia, Naera, Naeron, Naerion, Naerelle, Naerella, Naerea, Aethal, Aethelle, Aethys, Aethion, Aethar, Aethial, Aenor, Aethor, Aerelle, Gaelyx, Aenyx, Aeryx, Baelyx, Aelial, Aeliar, Aelior, Vaegal, Vaegor, Vaegar, Vaelior, Vaelor, Aerial, Aeriel, Aelan, Aevys, Aevelle, Aevella, Haelyx, Haelian, Aenir, Haethan, Haelan, Haelor, Aekor
Canon — Gaemon (T), Daemion (T & V), Daemon (V & T), Aemon (T), Aemma (T [Andal?]), Vaemond (V), Aemond (T), Daeron (V later T)
Derived — Daemyra, Daemys, Daemyn, Daemelle, Daema, Gaemar, Daerelle, Daerion, Aemys, Aemar, Aemor, Aemir, Aemira, Aemara, Aemora, Daemor, Daemora, Vaemon, Gaema, Gaemond, Gaemyn, Gaemion, Aemion, Gaemor, Aemior, Aemyn, Aemin, Aerona, Aemona, Aemia, Aeman, Aemal, Aemelle, Gaemia, Aemol, Aemil, Aemila, Aemilon, Aemilor, Aeminor, Daemyron, Daeminor, Haemon, Naemon, Haemia, Naema, Haemal, Haemar, Naemior, Naemor
Canon — Daenys, Daenerys, Daella, Daenaera (1 V), Daena, Daenora (Rest T)
Derived — Daenyra, Daenar, Daenor, Daenelle, Daenal, Daen, Nerys, Naera, Daenir, Daenyx, Daeryx, Daerys, Daera, Daerya, Daenya, Daenyron, Daenorion, Norion, Daenyrion, Daenarion, Daenaeron, Daellar, Daelar, Daelon, Daelor, Daelan, Daelana, Daelanys, Daelenys, Daelyn, Aenaera
Canon — Maegon, Maegor, Maegelle, Maelor, Maekar (All T)
Derived — Maegar, Maela, Maelys, Maegys, Maegera, Maegara, Maegerys, Maegal, Maegyn, Maegan, Maekor, Maekaera, Maegaera, Maegaela, Maekion, Maelyra, Maegyra, Maelara, Maelar
Canon — Elaena (T), Valaena, Laena, Laenor (3 V), Helaena (T)
Derived — Laenys, Laenyra, Laenar, Laenelle, Helaenys, Elaenor, Elaenys, Laenion, Laenir, Laenyx, Elaenar, Laenora, Haena, Vaena, Alaena, Haela, Norys, Alaenys, Vaenys, Galaena
Canon — Visenya, Viserys, Viserra (T)
Derived — Viserya, Visenys, Senys, Saenys, Saenya, Saenar, Saenelle, Saenyelle, Saenyella, Serya, Serra, Serys, Saenir, Saenyx, Saenor, Viselya, Senial, Serial, Saerial, Visellan, Visarys
Canon — Baelon, Baela, Baelor, Balerion (Blackfyre), Valerion (Rest T)
Derived — Baelys, Baelar, Bael, Baelir, Alerion, Aleria, Aelir, Valeria, Valerys
Canon — Jaehaerys (T), Jacaerys (V), Lucerys (V), Jaehaera (T)
Derived — Lucerra, Lucerion, Jaehaerion, Jaerion, Lucerya, Jacaera, Jaena, Jaenelle, Jaecelle, Jaesir, Jaekar, Jaeron, Jaela, Jaelon, Jaelor, Jaerys, Haerys, Haera, Kael, Kaecion, Kaeciel, Kaecelle, Kaerys, Kaerion, Kaeriel, Lucarys, Jaeca, Nicerys, Nicaerys, Hecaerys, Nicerion, Hicaerys, Niceria, Nicae, Lucarya, Lucaenys, Lucaena, Nocorys
Canon — Lianna, Larissa (V [Andal? First Men?]), Alarra (FM [Massey]), Alyssa (V & T [Andal? FM?]), Alysanne (T)
Derived — Alysor, Lianys, Lianor, Sianna, Amanna, Alanna, Noranna, Narra, Nyssa, Anyssa, Alarya, Asenna, Norissa, Irenna, Orissa, Lysarra, Lisarra, Aranna
Canon — Valarr, Vaella (T)
Derived — Vaelys, Valarys, Alarys, Alarya, Valarya, Valarra, Vaellan
Canon — Gael, Saera, Shaera (T)
Derived — Saerys, Gaelys, Gaelor, Gaelon, Gaelion, Saerion, Shaerys, Shaerial, Shaerelle, Shaelle, Shael, Shaelys, Saevys, Shaerion, Gaela, Shaela
Canon — Corwyn (V [Andal?]), Corlys (V)
Derived — Corla, Corlia, Corlaenys, Cora, Corys, Corlenys, Corlea, Corlae, Corvan, Corvana, Corvys
Malentine
Rhogar(/Rogar?/Rogare? [FM? HV?])
Monford
Monterys (All V)
Derived — Terys, Teraea, Taeraea, Taerion, Monys, Monerys, Montys, Rhogel, Malentys, Malenta, Monterion, Monterra, Mona, Monae, Monarra, Malentina, Lentys, Lenta, Lenya, Taenys, Taena, Alentys, Malya, Malys, Malea, Malena, Malenna, Malaena, Amalla, Alenna, Marissa, Monassa, Monessa, Monerra, Mosarra, Malarra, Malenys, Amarys, Mantys, Malta, Maltys, Maltine, Maltina, Amalta, Amaltine, Alta, Altys, Altarra, Maltar, Maltarys, Marion, Maltior, Malerion, Mornys, Mortys, Morton, Omorr, Omon, Malenion, Malenior, Almys, Monissa, Montissa, Montessa, Omona, Omorra, Maltion, Malton, Almont, Almae, Maltorra, Torys, Garys, Garla, Galtys, Torrine, Tarine, Maltarine, Maltarra, Almerra, Almarra, Almorra, Alterra, Lamina, Monta, Monte, Montae, Taera, Taerine, Taerin, Taerys, Manta, Almina, Almine, Rhonal, Rhonior, Rhomys, Almar, Malar, Malarr, Malarys, Almarys, Maline, Rhomalt, Rhomion, Rhomior, Rhomia, Rhoma, Rhoton, Rhomine, Rhomal, Rhogal, Rhomina, Rhomon, Rhomar, Rhomorr, Almassa, Rhomys, Rhomyn, Torial, Malial, Rhovys, Rhowyn, Matarra, Atarra, Rhomond, Rhomorra
Matarys (T)
Derived — Matarya, Matara, Matys, Tarys, Tarya, Atara, Atarys, Tarial, Tarhael, Matarr
Canon — Orys, Borys, Orryn (Baratheon)
Derived — Orial, Ora, Orya, Orra, Borya, Boria, Boryl, Orelle, Orianne, Orael, Orrael, Orhael, Borion, Orion, Bora, Orian, Oryal, Oryas, Orias, Orios, Oryos, Rys, Ryssa, Ryssal, Orlisse, Rysla, Ryn, Rynel, Rynella, Boryn, Borryn, Rynal, Dorys, Orella, Dorella, Oryl, Orgillac, Orgyll, Borella, Borylla, Bolia, Bolas, Orlas, Ollyn, Olys, Olya, Orianna, Lorys
Canon — Maelys, Haegon, Aeryn, Calla, Rhalla, Shaena (Blackfyre)
Canon non-Westerosi Valyrians:
Jaenara Belaerys, Aurion
Canon Dragons:
Urrax, Terrax, Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Vermithor, Caraxes, Meleys, Syrax, Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, Tessarion, Shrykos, Morghul, Viserion, Rhaegal
Unknown — Gaelithox?, Aegarax?
Original & HV Derived (some more suitable for dragons) — Aelsior, Qaelys, Qylys, Vhenys, Vhenya, Vhinyae, Vhanir, Vaenir, Vaenyx, Baelykos, Lykael, Lykaera, Raqael, Raqel, Raqys, Raqyssa, Raqissa, Raqar, Raqir, Raqor, Raqora, Raqior, Kionar, Malkion, Malkios, Vhaltir, Malkior, Vaedys, Vaedar, Elenys, Elenia, Elenar, Elenarys, Elenarya, Elenara, Kostys, Kostir, Kostior, Pelarys, Pelonia, Pelonys, Eledrae, Eledrys, Eledryn, Peria, Perza, Perzys, Zysa, Amisor, Amisa, Aexior/Aeksior, Aexion/Aeksion, Raenion, Raenior, Qana, Qanys, Qantys, Ebrior, Ebrion, Jelmys, Jelmarys, Jelmazys, Jelissa, Tessarys, Tessara, Tessarae, Dessan, Dessenae, Hārys, Tōmarr, Tōmarys, Tōmasyn, Tessarax, Syrion, Syriel, Jēdarys, Jēdaria
Possible High Valyrian roots for names:
Rhaen — to; meet, find, encounter, discover
Bael — to help, to aid, to assist
Jael — to want, to wish/to store, to house
Jaelarys — hope (possible name)
#I was just hoarding these for no reason and then I realised oh I have a reddit now#but then I also realised that I don't despise myself so I remembered I still have tumblr#look I even kept the “common” names :D#I just want folks to realize we got options 😭#enough with throwing a bunch of consonants in the blender#let's respect the convention of AE#and -ys#and George might have had burnout when it came on to names but we're better off aren't we?!#yeah!#he got Rhaena from Rhaenys we can work with these We Have Options!#but yes as you can see I still had limits#house targaryen#house velaryon#house blackfyre#house baratheon#dragging them back to their roots by hook or crook >:(#it's bandoleros or nothing#therefore I guess it's only right to tag#house celtigar#FUCK didn't even show up in recommended tags this is so sad 😭#valyrian names#sometimes I compare a name's pronunciation in Common vs High Valyrian and my head hurts#Syrax what's happening w u bb 😭#is the y in Visenya a rounded vowel or actually an i *sleep-mussed contemplating Jungkook meme*#I'm good at names??#that's crazy
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Pure Math 171
choi seungcheol x reader
wc: 2.5k
genre: fluff, humour
warnings: math. (1) dirty joke. thats it i think (lmk if there's more)
synopsis: Walking into the first class of the semester shouldn't have been as eventful as it was (not that you can complain for long)
masterlist
(A/N): I haven't posted a fic in a while so i hope i redeem myself with this one hehe. a million thank yous to @toruro for beta-ing for me (even at the dentists lol) you can thank her for this too shes the reason i finished so quickly kjvkdfjg
It takes a lot to surprise you.
It’s not that you enjoy it, but your friends simply make it easy to read them. It took Soonyoung seven human years to learn the art of surprise birthday parties. You know, the ones where you aren’t supposed to know he’s throwing a party just for you. Or Minghao, before he learned the art of deceit, and held his disdain like a badge on his face.
You seem to have honed the skill of psychics better than most, confident in your ability as a higher-risk party trick.
Skipping into the new semester at uni, you enter your lecture hall at the reasonable hour of 8 in the morning, expecting nothing but the usual. No surprises were to come your way today, just another first day back, fueling for the coming months.
You push the doors of your lecture hall open, ready to greet your professor for Pure Mathematics 171, pushing your spirits high to commence your per semester buttering. What you find though, is the front desk crowded with students wanting to do the exact same, all for the professor that would be teaching the most dreaded unit of the course. Of course.
You spot Soonyoung among the crowd as he spots you at the door as well. You note how gleeful he looks at this hour. This can’t be good. Hao too presses his mouth together in an attempt to conceal his budding smile, hand to mouth when he miserably fails.
What on Earth was so funny?
Attempting to crane your neck, over and under, to catch a glimpse of the ever popular professor, you find yourself blocked by the sea of math nerds and ass-kissers just like yourself. Curiosity was becoming a little too much for you to bear, not that your friends sniggering and whispering while looking directly at you was helping at all. You were just about to march up to the two and demand to be put on their shoulders to see what the fuss was about. Until—
“Alright! It’s almost 8, let’s save the chatter for after class, how about?” you hear a voice boom in the centre of the anthill.
You knew that voice.
You watch in slow motion as the hoard of bodies disperse, not missing the pointed glances of both your friends directed at the teacher’s table.
And then you see it. Standing there, looking down at his folder sheets, dry-erase marker in hand.
Choi Seungcheol.
Choi Seungcheol was your professor.
Your boyfriend was your professor.
How did this happen? Did he know about this? Was he keeping it from you? Were you blind when you read the clear ‘Dr. Kim’ next to your unit code?
Seungcheol doesn’t notice you standing there slack mouthed and frozen in his classroom. Until he does.
Instead of mimicking your shocked expression, you watch as his mouth goes to pull what you recognise as a smirk.
Oh, he thinks this is hilarious.
His eyebrows are raised as he questions you, “Will you be taking a seat, miss?”
It’s then that you realise you're in the middle of a lecture hall with about a hundred eyes watching you as you gape at your collective professor. Could they be mistaking your imminent horror as you checking him out?
If this was another situation maybe you would have, but this was starting to sound like a sick joke.
But alas, you could not confront your professor like that, at least not in front of an audience. So you find it within yourself to slowly slug towards the staircase to plant yourself next to your friends. Both of whom were having the absolute time of their lives watching your dazed expression.
You might have committed murder that day.
You’re forced to snap out of it as you hear Seungcheol - professor Choi - begin to speak at the front of the class.
“Good morning everybody,” he starts, hands on his desk, a pleasant expression on his face as he awaits a response from his borderline comatose students. A chorus of good mornings greet him back, excluding your own.
“Hope you guys had a good break, welcome to Pure Math 171, my name is Professor Choi” he moves to scribble his name on the whiteboard, “And I would like to be referred as such.”
His gaze finds you in your seat as he utters those words. He is quick to shift.
“We’re gonna be starting light today, I’ll be going through our unit guide and grading system…”
Seungcheol talks. And talks. And talks. And you don’t listen. You watch instead.
You’re mad at him. Really mad at him. But you can’t help but wonder as he walks around looking like that. He’s in the simplest dress shirt and slacks of a neutral colour, but he wears it oh so well.
You’ve watched him every morning as he gets dressed for work, knowing his attire has always suited him. Your friends who have been in his classes have expressed their disappointment when told he wasn’t single, and promptly draw open in shock when they realize it's you that’s snagged him before the world could.
Seungcheol, for lack of a better word, hits different when he’s in his element. His hair is pushed back and out of his face, noting how his glasses look so much sexier when he’s pacing the room with hands dipped in his pockets. He’s speaking tongues of numbers and symbols, and it’s suddenly the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
But you're mad at him. It shouldn’t be that hard to remind yourself.
“You know, you’re being real ungrateful for a person who just got a free pass on the hardest class this fucking insitution can cook up,” Soonyoung whisper-shouts next to you.
Minghao quips beside him, “Look alive, sister, you’ve hit the jackpot.”
“Were you two in on it?” you finally snap, irritated at their apparent glee.
Soonyoung snorts, “Fuck, no, we saw him when we walked in this morning”
“So did he know?”
“Oh, I think Professor Choi would be glad to tell you himself after hours,” Minghao sleazes while Soonyoung throws you the greasiest wink known to man.
Disgusted and disturbed, you turn your attention back to the front of the room. You’re still disgusted and disturbed. Seungcheol is still there, looking like he does, scribbling some example equation on the board.
“Hmm. I think professor Choi ought to know his favourite student’s having trouble paying attention? We can’t have that, you should move up front.”
You do move. Away from your friends to the seats higher up.
It’s a mind-numbing two hours in which you think you experience every emotion possible.
You think of your friends who have sat in his classes all semester, that have ogled him and admitted his apparent attractiveness. There were people in this room that were thinking the very same thing in this very moment, and it was making your skin crawl. You wanted to get up and scream: This is your boyfriend.
But alas, you are but a tired, tired college student. He wouldn’t fail you, would he? Then again, he has a ruthless streak of keeping you from the lights of life when you’re slacking in dire times. You might be the love of his life, but he remains a man of discipline.
It’s an annoying trait, but only ever in the moment. He might be the sole reason you haven’t completely lost yourself in the sea of academics.
“I think we can wrap up with that, it’s basic stuff but it won’t hurt to revise on your own before next week when we really get into it,” Seungcheol’s voice booms.
There’s a churn in your stomach for some reason, and you have to neutralize your breathing as you watch the lecture hall slowly empty out. A few students remain lingering at the front desk for yet another round of buttering. Seungcheol entertains them, pleasant smile on his face, nodding along to something. You remain seated, arms and legs crossed as you stare daggers into the top of Seungcheol’s head as he speaks with his students.
The remaining students file out as well, and you notice how Soonyoung and Minghao are long gone, leaving just you and Seungcheol alone in this big, big room.
It’s only then that he looks up searching, to check if you had left yet.
He remembered quick.
His eyes finally land on your, disgruntled, tight form, refusing to make eye contact for more than three seconds before huffing audibly, moving to put away your things. Seungcheol moves around his front desk, hands in pockets, hiking his way up the lecture steps to where you were at the top row.
You’re shoving your laptop in your bag by the time he’s done with his trek, planting himself on the chair next to you loudly. You ignore him.
“Do you think we’d get in trouble if they caught us like this?” he muses after a few silent moments.
“Caught us like what?” You snap. There goes your pledge to remain silent.
“You can’t possibly think a teacher and his student caught in a classroom by themselves is necessarily a point in our favor”
“I’ll do the honors then” with that you’re swinging your bag over your shoulder to trudge behind him to the steps leading down, wanting to be out of his presence for the time being.
You’re barely past him when there’s a grip on your wrist, firm and purposeful, that tugs you backwards in a harsh manner. The bag on your shoulder is sent to the floor while you, in your entirety, are sent straight into Seungcheol’s lap.
Bastard.
The smirk on his face is enough to send you into a pot of livid fumes, right after you’re done balancing yourself on his shoulders. You try not to grip on too tight.
“What makes you think you can leave without being dismissed?”
“What the fuck.”
“Language, miss. I don’t tolerate obscenities in my classroom.” It might’ve been a menacing threat, but with what lay behind the glint in his eyes you knew he was being a little shit.
It takes you every fibre in your body to refrain from thinking too much about him. Him and his hands that rest on your thighs, him and his hands that are placed near your waist, stroking and pressing into your shirt.
No, you're mad at him.
“Did you know?” you ask finally, tired of the back and forth.
“Nope,” he replies, “Found out when you walked in.”
“Do you not read your attendance sheet? Isn’t that your job? You had the entirety of summer to give me a heads up, this is your fault!”
“Dr. Kim got into an accident last night, she’s out of service for the rest of the semester. I didn’t know until I came in for my other class I was being switched over—”
“How does that happen?!” you almost yell.
He’s silent for a moment before beginning again, “Do you want me to ask for another class?”
Wait, what.
“I didn’t say that—” You can’t finish because your being pushed off your seat on his lap to stand while he gets up as well.
“I’ll go talk to the co-ordinator then, class isn’t working out for me.” With that he’s trudging back down the steps, making a beeline for the door.
You’re left stunned at the top of the stairs, not knowing if he was being serious or not. Were you about to let his presence bother you that bad? To the point he had to switch classes? What were you even that upset about?
Twirling around in place trying to look for the bag that was strewn about earlier, you grab the straps and race down the steps. If Seungcheol can hear your bounding footsetps, he doesn’t show it. Instead you crash into his back just as he’s about to leave the room, to which he turns around.
The smirk seems glued to his face and you realize right then you may have been lured. With the 180° that had become of your perception, you couldn’t be mad at him anymore, cooling off the simmer that had been brewing for the past couple hours.
“Maybe…Maybe I can live with seeing your face for a couple hours a week,” you mumble, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact.
He lets out an incredulous laugh, “Couple hours a week?! Do you realise we sleep in the same bed at night, pretty sure that’s more than a couple hours.”
“You know what I meant!” you huff, arms crossed and turning your head away. You cringe slightly at how you voice echoes across the large lecture hall.
Feeling his hands enclose yours, pulling your body slowly towards him, you bring yourself to look back up at him. His hands come up behind you when you’re close enough, snaking up your back and waist. You try not to shudder, but it’s hard when you know he’s doing it on purpose. There’s warmth that radiates off of him, a stark contrast from the chill classroom, your fingers finding purchase around his own waist.
There’s more of that same warmth when he kisses you, short pecks, yet ones that have you smiling against his lips. The curve remaining as he rests his forehead on yours.
“Let’s go home, just need to grab my stuff,” he says, but makes no effort to move from his position.
“Are you already done for the day?” you frown.
“No,” he muses, “But it’s only the first day. Besides, I wanna sit in bed with my girl while I map her out for the first assignment of the semester.”
“Does your girl get premium access?”
“Hm, maybe.”
Before you can refute, the door of the room bursts open with a bang that reaches straight into your soul. With the way Seungcheol’s eyes widen, you don’t doubt the same was happening in his own chest.
There isn’t enough time for you to pull away before hearing gasps alluding from the threshold.
Soonyoung and Minghao stand at the door, scandalized looks complete with hands over their faces. Hao shakes his head in mock disappointment, eyes pointed. Soonyoung pulls out his hands, framing them like he was taking a picture of the both of you gripping each other.
“Now what would the bulletin look like with these two on the front cover? You’re friends with Seok, right? D’you think you could put a word in?” Soonyoung yaps, the most insufferable look on his face.
Seungcheol laughs, to your surprise, and looks over to you, “What d’you think the bulletin would look like with his F on the front cover?”
“D’you think you could put a word in?” you raise your eyebrows.
His smile widens but he’s being pulled away as both your friends move forward to surround him. You vaguely register Soonyoung cupping your boyfriend’s face delicately, singsonging about their years of friendship, or how Hao has his arms wrapped around him in a back hug, head on his shoulder.
You vaguely register any of it, because you’re smiling too hard at the scene. Smiling too hard when Seungcheol catches your eye, before bursting out laughing, attempting to wrestle the two off of him.
You bring your phone up to the chaos instead of your hands, wanting to frame the scene for real this time.
#svt#svt fluff#svt imagines#svt x reader#svt fic#seventeen#seventeen fics#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#svt scenarios#seungcheol#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol fics#seungcheol imagines#seungcheol scenarios#scoups#scoups fluff#scoups scenarios#scoups imagines#scoups x reader#em.writes
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Random Dot analysis:
The interesting thing about Dottore is that while the most popular fanon about him is that his underlings fear him, canonically it's the complete opposite.
He deadass has an army of simps working for him, I had never ran into a Fatui NPC that has expressed fear about him, and instead they speak about him in reverence.
The most obvious one is during the AQ where a fatui agent expressed disappointment upon realising that Dottore would be leaving Sumeru soon, saying that he had only seen the lord once.
And it seems that Dottore actually talks to his subordinates often, especially when in the same conversation, the agents (who didn't know about the segment's existence thus not realising that they spoke to different versions of the Doctor) casually compared how their conversations went, one said that Dottore was dismissive while the other said he was all smiles.
The people who work for him are ridiculously dedicated, the fungi event with that one guy who for some reason - thought that a device that controls fungi would impress Dottore, he did all that to earn his recognition. (It would have been more impressive if the device controlled literally ANYTHING besides fungi, but eh whatever) Note: The guy has said in CN expressively something along the lines of "beloved/dear" lord, not the direct translation but it was affectionate.
Then there's that one dude who stayed behind after the (failed) aranara lure experiments, I don't remember much about him but I don't think he said anything bad about Dottore, other than saying that he had stayed behind because he felt responsibility to take care of the kids after subjecting them into a mission like that.
Cut to the two Fatui peeps on Mondstadt who gush about him after the Sumeru quest, and I'm pretty sure we met another fatui dude in the desert who decided to go against orders and go the extra mile of attempting to kidnap desert dwellers to present as test subjects to again - impress Dottore. I think this was a Jeht quest?
Oh, and in the manwha, it's briefly mentioned that Dottore does reward efforts handsomely.
Tldr:
Fanon - Dottore is cruel, he terrifies everyone who works under him and they always walk around eggshells with him.
Canon: Dottore gives high reward for efforts, he has too many simps that sings him praises and they're literally scrambling to be in the same room as him.
Conclusion, we need more dottore simps in fan content. Because not only is it more accurate, but its also funnier for Dottore to be followed by a hoard of fans.
ALRIGHT YOU HAVE ME THERE... I went back and reread the dialogue for the agents for when Dottore was leaving and phew you're right, lol now that i realize it's pretty entertaining!!
But now i have questions. How many agents know that Dottore has segments? The ones that do know, are they not allowed to spread this...? I'd think the news would be all over the recruits but I guess not. And I guess these segments are ridiculously similar physically/appearance wise too. 😭 And the ones that don't know, do they just think their Harbinger has multiple different personalities or something?? I need more NPCs talking about Dottore.
ELCHIGEN. THE FUNGI NPC GUY WAS SO FUNNY. I still have screenshots of when he spoke about Dottore omg, bro was DEDICATED. Literally created a whole scheme and put his life on the line just to get Dottore to notice him... i respect the energy tbh. I do wonder why he loved Dottore so much in the first place, i really think there's a lot more to his character than we've seen firsthand. I also went back and reread the other stuff you mentioned on the wiki and omg 😭😭 i cant believe i forgot this stuff happened, it's been so long since Sumeru 😭 it's so funny to think about how they're piling more crimes on themselves just for Dottore 😭 i wonder if he's aware of how favorable these agents view him?
Though I do think it may differ from segment to segment. Krupp was pretty scared of Webttore. It's also kind of funny to think people were more scared of Scaramouche than Dottore. 💀
You have me thinking many thoughts, and this has given me much brainrot, will keep in mind for future fics, i have been enlightened.
#smooches talks#dottore love notes <3#this is fueling more dottore fanclub handbook content actually but them only praising you and dottore#“everything there is to know about our dear lord harbinger” I CAN SEE IT#they compliment things that shouldn't be complimented#this was a wonderful analysis thank u#also can i just say i love boattore#hes so cute yall
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Sits across from you, one leg folded over the other, tell me about these blue lock boys as vampires…
૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, sfw, vampires, descriptions of blood, blood drinking, hunting, manipulation kinda, perhaps kidnapping, gn!reader — not beta read !
⭑ notes — i want to say more but im eepy!! so let me know if you like this…perhaps i will elaborate or make it a thing hehe.
now ok i havent got this entirely fleshed out or whatever but … the blue lock boys as a sort of vampire hoard. like they live together and have been for centuries in a way to protect themselves from humans in modern times. they move and act as a group — going out on group hunts together for animal blood even though it doesn’t suffice.
of course they’re always fighting, who gets to drink what and for how long (rin and shidou are always top contenders for this, bachira too). who’s being reckless with their hunts (kunigami hates when they don’t hunt in an orderly fashion so they don’t get caught) who hasn’t actually been out hunting (definitely chigiri and nagi, they’re too lazy or too pretty)
the forests are running dry and people are starting to catch on the boys never age, they’re suspiciously pale, way too fast to be normal and so they’re forced to uproot their little clan to a new town, new aliases, new blood.
and that’s when you come in, isagi stumbling upon the trace of your pulse one night when hunting through the forest. you’ve heard the rumours, the ethereal group of men living hidden amongst the trees — who look like they’ve seen more of life than what they show. you’re so foolish to have gone looking for them. you should have stayed home.
the weather picks up, the clouds turn a brutish shade of grey and throw down their tears, chills run rampant up and down your body…not just because of the cold and something tells you to run. but a stranger appears in the distance, who looks gentle and kind. he asks if you’re lost, if you need somewhere warm to stay and for some reason you find yourself entranced by the velvet tones in his voice and his youthful, handsome face.
you poor thing.
little do you know, it’s isagi - from a pack of starving vampires who charms you into their hold. with his boyish persona and bright blue eyes. he’s dangerous, but oh you, silly little human you — you don’t know that yet. he’s not being kind, he’s after the thick, viscous crimson inside of you that calls to him like the scent of a hearty stew. you’ll make a fine little blood bank for the hoard of vampires back home. that’s if isagi feels like sharing.
it’s late and the weather’s, he tells you, you should come stay at the manor for the night. he’ll keep you safe. little do you know that he’s had his eye on your carotid artery for the longest time, he can ear every droplet of blush pulsing through your veins and rising to the surface as he flusters you. the way he touches you around the waist is not out of kindness, it’s to make sure other vampires in the area know that you’re claimed prey.
isagi’s home is both magnificent and creepy — it’s very foundations intertwined with strong ivory, granite gargoyles and dusted with fallen leaves. it’s too large for him to live in alone, no wonder he offered you a place to stay. it must get lonely, scary living in a place that looks like it’s straight from a horror movie.
you don’t feel right when you enter the manor, it’s dark. there’s no light. you feel off.
the floorboards creek with heavy steps, voices of all octaves that sound hungry bounce off of the walls and they only seem to get louder when a hot flash of fear spreads through you and your pulse quickens. you try to run but there they are… a man in every corner. a man too beautiful to be alive.
then, multiple pairs of cruel red eyes appear from the darkness, accompanied by sick laughter and the figures of men slink out of the shadows. you realise then that isagi is not who you think and nor are his friends. for when you run to escape, he speedily blocks you at the door with eyes as rich as the blood in your veins and a toothy smirk, showing off his pointed fangs. looking down at you as if you’re nothing but a meal.
he tilts your chin up to face him, tender as if he can’t rip out your throat at any moment.
“i’m sorry little blood bank but i can’t let you leave. i’ve captured the perfect prey, so i think that makes you ours now.”
#✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification#✧ ₊˚💬੭ — unknown messenger#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock x you#LET ME KNOW IF U WANT MORE#i want to make this a thing actually#tw: blood#tw: violence#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki#⋆｡°✩🕯️ — vampire verse
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Around the Realms in 80 days- Chapter 18
Pairing: Reader x Loki
Story summary: You have fallen through a portal during the convergence into Asgard and come face to face with Thor, and his brother Loki. With no way to return, you must travel with the two men and their hoard of asgardian soldiers to get back home. Things get from bad to worse when you have to share a tent with the god of mischief himself.
Notes: Oh hi there! Welcome to another chapter (this Is pretty good timing for me, two chapters in a month? Who says I don't feed you! This was a fun chapter to write, I did a lil bit of breaking the 4th wall here lol! I know a lot of you hated Latte to begin with because she was a lil nervy and didn’t always stick up for herself (Im only going off on what I would be like guys lmao some of us are very soft and not at all brave or heroic) and I know she’s a bit of a reluctant hero or an anti-hero, she'd much rather be chilling somewhere with her coffee than faced with this shit!
Anyway, enjoy!
Read this story on a03!
find all parts to this story on Tumblr here
Jesus Christ…” You muttered under your breath as you stormed off, leaving Stark Towers behind you.
“Uh…Latte?”
You span round to face Oliver, who was having to do a fast pace walk to catch up with you.
“What?” You asked rather sharper than you intended.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing. It’s been…”
“Stressful morning?” Oliver grinned good-naturedly.
You sighed. “Kind of.”
“I can’t imagine. Where do you want to go?”
“Honestly I don’t know the city at all.” You forced a smile, trying to forget L-O-K-I and enjoy the rest of your day.
“Where would you recommend?”
Oliver smiled again. He was a smiley person, you noticed. Unlike he-who-shall-not-be-named who usually looked unimpressed at best, especially when you were around. He looked cute again today; it felt strange seeing him without his lab coat on, as if he was missing something somehow. He was wearing jeans and a graphic tee-shirt, his brown hair tousled again as if he constantly runs his hands through it, and his hazel eyes seemed to light up when he smiled. His face was open and sincere, again unlike Loki who was closed and harsh. Maybe there was something to be said of their life experiences though; while you didn’t know much about Oliver and his life, you doubted he had ever tried to take over an entire planet and been defeated and imprisoned.
Still…suppose you can never be too careful. Enough tinder dates had taught you that.
You realised you had been staring at him and hadn’t listened at all to his response.
“Sorry, what did you say?” You asked sheepishly.
He laughed, “I suggested we could go to the museum of modern art? Or if you would prefer to just see some sights we could go to times square…?”
“Museum sounds good. Sorry, I’m a little distracted.”
He chucked as you started heading off in the direction of the museum together. The day continued to be pleasant enough and you actually began to enjoy your stroll despite the way the morning had gone.
Oliver broke the cordial silence.
“So then, I guess the number one question…how did you get landed with the task of being Loki’s…companion?”
“Companion?” You screwed your face up.
Oliver laughed, “well, whatever you’d call your relationship.”
“I try not to call it anything.” You muttered under your breath.
You begin to explain the situation to Oliver, and the rollercoaster that was yours and Loki’s so called “relationship”.
Oliver gave a low whistle after you finally finished regaling him with your sorry tale of woe.
“Man…that’s heavy.”
“Horrible isn’t it.” You sighed glumly.
“I can’t believe you got kidnapped!”
“Kidnapped, bullied by trolls, meeting Loki, it’s been the worst of times.”
He laughed and you scowled at him.
“It’s not funny, my life is a Shakespearen tragedy.”
“No no, of course not, I’m sorry. Is meeting Loki really as bad as being attacked by trolls?”
“Far, far worse.”
For some reason, Oliver seemed to think you were joking and laughed.
But…you do seem to find yourself in some scrapes don’t you.”
“Scrapes find me, I am merely a passive entity to which disaster finds.”
“I find that a little difficult to believe, given that by the sounds of it you basically begged to stay here.” Olivers eyes twinkled with good-hearted mirth.
“That’s…that’s beside the point.”
“Of course, of course. You know…I’m not so sure though.”
“About what?”
“If I didn’t know any better, and despite all your complaining, I’d say you rather enjoy traveling around with Loki.”
You spluttered, “What? What are you trying to say?”
“Loki this, Loki that. I’m just saying, for someone who hates him so, you do enjoy talking about him.”
You stared at him, horrified. An awful though suddenly appeared…over the past few weeks had you managed to pass the Bechdel test?
“That’s not…” The words got stuck in your throat.
Maybe Oliver could tell how nauseated you were because he said gently,
“I’m joking Latte. It sounds like you’ve been through hell and back. You’ve been so brave I’m not sure many people could do what you have done.”
You blushed and stuttered for a different reason.
“I’m sure that’s not true. Besides I didn’t really have a choice. Sink or swim I guess. I was pretty cowardly to begin with, I let Loki scare the shit out of me. I’m not…a brave person, I’m not particularly tough.”
“I would disagree, the story you just told me would suggest otherwise. Jesus knows I couldn’t have done half the things you did, I would have laid in the corner and cried.”
You snorted.
“Arguably, that’s pretty much what I’ve been doing.”
“You’re the hero, you have to go through some sort of journey.” Oliver winked at you.
“Oh please, I’m definitely the anti-hero, the people at home watching the inevitable film of my life will be screaming at the tv I’m sure.”
“Well, anti-hero or not, I’d watch that movie.”
You really wanted to make a snide comment about that making Loki the villain in this particular story, but you kept your mouth shut given that Oliver seemed to think you were infatuated with the Asgardian God. Definitely not true, by the way.
“Sure, ‘my life as the worlds worst avenger’ coming to cinemas soon.”
“I think I’d prefer ‘How to train your fire demon.’” Oliver joined in.
“Or, ‘Asgardian Psycho.” You snorted, thinking back to Loki.
“What about ‘An Earthling in Asgard?”
You grinned, “it’s good, but a little on the nose, plus I’m not just in Asgard anymore, I’m quite the realm traveler.”
“Fine then, how about ‘Around the Realms in 80 days.”
You laughed, “That’s not bad, you never know with the rate things are going I might end up doing just that.”
“How are you feeling about your upcoming trip?”
You sighed, a little wave of anxiety settling into your stomach.
“Pretty nervous. I’m not sure who I think I’m kidding being here in the first place, and now apparently I’m traveling to a dangerous realm of fire and brimstone, where I’ll probably get myself killed no doubt.” You paused,
“Sorry, I don’t mean to offload! It can’t be much worse than the current state of things anyway.”
“Please, don’t feel bad!”
“Maybe some modern art will cheer me up. Hey, actually, how did you find out my stupid nickname?” You asked, realising he had been calling you your misnomer.
Oliver laughed sheepishly,
“Well, I heard Thor call you that when he was talking to Stark yesterday.”
“Oh god, what did he say?”
“Only good things!” Oliver hurried to reassure you. “Just discussing your amazing performance with the demon in the cell.”
“Hm, I don’t believe you but for the sake of my self-esteem I won’t press further.”
After a short walk, you made it to the museum and followed Oliver inside. You insisted on paying for your own ticket, of course.
You had just about settled into an enjoyable afternoon, wandering around the exhibits when your phone starting beeping. You ignored it at first and then your phone started ringing.
You stared at it and blinked twice as Loki’s named popped up on your phone. It had also been him texting you apparently. The message flashed on your screen.
Loki: There’s an emergency
“Is everything okay? You look ill.” Oliver asked.
“This can’t be good.” You sighed. “Let me take this.”
You walked over to the entrance of the exhibit as to not disturb everyone there.
“Loki?”
“Hello little mortal, enjoying yourself on your, what do the young midgardians call it, A date?” Loki spoke lazily.
“Its not a date!” You hissed loudly into the phone, raising some eyebrows around you.
“It’s not a date.” You repeated again quietly as you turned your back.
“I think the lady doth protest too much.”
“Seriously what is wrong with you?”
“Not much, what’s up with you?”
You could basically feel Loki’s irritating grin through the phone.
“God you give me whiplash. What do you want Loki I’m busy.”
“Not too busy to pick up the phone I see.” You could hear a smug tone to his voice.
“I only picked it up because you said it was an emergency.”
“What emergency could I possibly need your help with.”
“Okay, goodbye Loki.”
“Wait, actually there is an emergency.”
You sighed and rubbed your forehead. Man, this god was going to turn you grey.
“What?” You snapped. You were in no doubt there was no emergency and Loki was ringing you to just mess with you.
There was a pause on the phone. You considered hanging up before he finally continued,
“Stark has arranged for a movie night tonight and we all have to attend.” In his defence Loki sounded very glum, as if something horrible had truly happened.
“That’s not an emergency Loki. Now excuse me while I go back to my not date.”
“Where are you?” He asked.
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, and you looked around you, scared incase he popped up from behind a statue or something.
“Were in the museum of modern art. Why?”
“No need to sound so distrustful.” Loki sounded amused, “I had no idea you were such a connoisseur of fine art, you never struck me as the type.”
You bristled at his insinuation that you were not sophisticated enough to enjoy art.
“I actually love going to museums. Just because I don’t walk around acting like I’m the dogs bollocks doesn’t mean I’m not cultured.”
“Do you have to use such crass language when we speak?”
“Do we have to speak at all?” You retorted back, still scanning the room slightly just incase he showed up.
“I visited your planet with Odin and Thor when I was a child and we visited a place called Rome, they had a great number of many museums.”
“Oh? Was this when Julius Caesar was still in power?”
Loki ignored your comment,
“Of course, not as many as we have on Asgard. Since you are so interested in museums I can visit together the next time we visit.” He spoke lightly.
You paused, was Loki asking you out? And not just because he had to because of the whole babysitting thing?
“Uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t think that I would go back though, to Asgard. Odin wasn’t mighty pleased I was there in the first place.”
“Odin is not usually mighty pleased about anything, especially if I’m involved.” He kept his voice light and humorous, but there was something deeper underneath.
The admission came as a surprise, you weren’t that used to Loki speaking about his feelings (kind of) so easily and you were stumped for a response.
“Well New York has plenty of museums too.” You offered, unsure of what else to say.
“Indeed.”
The phone went quiet again. It really was unsettling how quickly the two of you seemed to go from arguing to tolerating each other, and even more unsettling, the occasional moments of companionship with a hint of friendship.
Not that you were sure he would put you in that category with the way he had recently snapped at you; when you’d tried to enquire about his parenthood and just before you came on this not date. Although he had also magicked your up a new wardrobe and seemed to get very upset when he thought you were dying so that had to count for something, right?
Come to think of it, you never actually really addressed the whole “friendship” thing after that long talk the other night on the balcony, where Loki had finally stopped acting like a dick for long enough as to apologise for his actions and have a serious conversation about where you stood with him. He had really opened up then, about how he felt about getting close to mortals. You supposed you couldn’t really be too shocked then, when he seemed to distance himself from you a little the last few days.
The hot and cold act was not enjoyable but was almost understandable if you saw things from his perspective. You just had to be careful not to get burnt or frozen in the process.
Not that anyone wants to look at things from Lokis perspective for too long, they’d get a migraine.
Look at you being all mature and shit!
You thought back to those nights of sharing a tent with Loki, it felt so long ago now despite not being long ago at all. You had been so scared of him then, so unsure of how he would react next.
Now? Well he was still a mystery and could still be a complete arse, but perhaps he was opening up to you, slowly. You needed to be patient but only to an extent right, he was obviously a complex guy; not that that gave him a right of passage to be a knob.
“What are you up to then now?” You asked.
To your surprise, Loki played along.
“Well now you’re gone I get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once, reading my books.”
You almost hit back with “so that’s why you called me then, is it?” But stopped yourself. You realised then that Loki was bored. That’s why he’d been so annoyed that you had spent the afternoon with Oliver. Probably.
I mean, aside from you and Thor, it’s not like he had a lot of friends from what you had seen. Another thing the two of you actually had in common. You didn’t have a lot of friends here either.
You bit down on your nails, an old habit you had whenever you felt anxious about something.
“Stop that dreadful noise or I shall put the phone down.”
Only paying half attention, you stepped back into someone and banged your side pretty hard.
“Ow, dickhead.” You muttered as they shot you a dirty look and walked off.
“What? What’s happening?” Loki barked.
“Oh nothing, just this asshole walking into me.”
“Was it that Midgardian boy?”
“What midgardian boy?” You asked absent-mindedly. “Oh shit, Oliver.” You suddenly remembered your not-date probably wondering what the hell you were doing.
“Anyway, I should get back to…I’ll see you later.”
“yes.” Loki said stiffly “I’d hate to keep you from your beau.”
“Nobody says beau anymore by the way. S’later.”
“Goodbye mortal.”
You hung up your phone and quickly went to rejoin Oliver.
“Hey, sorry I took so long.”
“Everything okay?”
“Literally fine, he just wanted to complain about Tonys movie night or something.”
“Look at you, movie nights with the Avengers!”
“I know, I’m going up in the world. Careful what you say to me now, I’ve got the force of Earths defenders on my side.”
Oliver chuckled and held his hands up.
“I see that. Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you.”
You turned back to the photography exhibit, wondering what it would actually be like to visit a museum with Loki one day.
***
You wandered back into the towers later that evening. After the museum, you had gone for a few drinks with Oliver and, as it was, you were feeling rather tipsy.
Actually, this was the second time you had been tipsy in the last few days, you reminded yourself, better not make it a habit.
Still, Oliver was cute, right?
Not rip-my-clothes-off-and-take-me cute, but cute all the same.
He was very sweet and funny too and although you maybe saw him as friend-material at the moment, that didn’t mean something couldn’t happen in the future. Plus it was nice to have a friend that wasn’t a hundred year plus old god.
You could get used to the city living, although there was a part of you that missed the Asgardian country side too.
The atrium into Stark Towers took your breath away, you felt far too unsophisticated to be staying there. It was not the sort of place you’d ever particularly imagined yourself but you were going to enjoy your time for as long as you had. Grinning, probably overly familiarly in your slightly drunken state, at the security and receptionists on the ground floor you made your way over to the lift, preparing to stand there for all of eternity due to the many floors. You decided to turn your phone back on to check for any messages you missed after turning your phone off earlier to save battery.
Two missed calls and a few texts from Loki?
Loki: When are you retuning mortal it is nearly dark?
Loki: Mortal?
Loki: Answer my calls right this instance or there will be consequences.
Loki: Loki, Prince of Asgard.
You snorted and replied.
You: Why did you text me your own name, weirdo. What’s up?
And for the fun of it, you sent him a little gif of the “wazup” scene in Scary Movie.
Making your way up the many floors in Starks state of the art lift, you waited for Loki to reply.
Loki: How dare you not answer me when I asked you to. Clearly, you needed reminding of who I am. Secondly, what, in all of the nine realms is that?
You: Firstly, I’m not just at your beck and call Loki, I was a bit busy. Secondly, It’s a gif. It’s just like a moving picture that you send to be funny.
Loki: Busy? With that midgardian boy? Disgusting. I didn’t find the moving picture particularly amusing. Please don’t send me one again.
You: Get your mind out of the gutter.
You were hit with a sudden inspiration. You quickly searched for the gif you wanted and found it. Who knew there were so many Loki gifs. The particular one you were after was Loki shouting “kneel” to the ground in Stuttgart during his last soiree to Earth.
Loki: ?
Loki: It is imperative that you tell me how you acquired this.
You laughed out loud to yourself, as you put your phone away wishing you could see Loki’s face as you had send that gif.
You figured, given the time, that Stark would have already started the film night, so you headed towards the most likely lounge areas on the penultimate floor. Your guess was right, and you could see through the glass doors the Avengers sat around watching what you were pretty sure was Kill Bill.
The sight made you giggle, and you remembered you needed to try very hard at not being a little bit drunk. You were pretty sure the Avengers all thought you were slightly strange to begin with, you needed to change their mind.
You shushed yourself aloud, and prepared to enter quietly and normally. Quietly and normally. Quietly and normally.
You pushed the door slightly and entered. So far so good, no one had particularly noticed you entering. Quiet and normal. Excellent. You scanned the room, looking for an empty seat. Your long distance eye sight wasn’t great as it is thanks to years of starting at screens and it was pretty dark, but you thought there was one free near Thor so you headed over silently.
That was, until, someone very rudely had put a pouff right in your way and you tripped up, slamming your knees into the side of a sofa.
“Shit” You yelled, rather loudly.
All the Avengers in the room turned and started at you.
“Nice of you to join us Wonderland, please come in.” Stark said, dryly.
You grinned wildly, deciding it best not to say anything, and took the closest seat.
“Mortal.” A low voice spoke to your left.
“Oh for gods sake” You muttered and glared at Loki for the audacity of sitting where you were now forced to sit.
Loki seemed amused by this reaction and smirked at you irritatingly. You glared even harder and then faced the TV.
“You’re back very late.” Loki spoke softly next to you, with a note of contention in his voice.
You decided to ignore him, and tried to focus on the film. You’d never actually seen Kill Bill all the way through and coming in half way was pretty confusing. Loki tried again.
“I hope you haven’t been fraternising with your mortal boy?”
“Stop accusing me of fraternising every three seconds, and it’s none of your business even if I was." You huffed out of the corner of your mouth, as to not disturb the rest of them.
Loki looked annoyingly happy that you had risen to the bait.
“I’m going to get popcorn.” You mumbled, and stood up to head towards the back of the room where the snacks and were.
You stood up too quickly and had to grab the sofa and a blink a couple of times until the black dots stopped floating in front of you. You suppressed the need to giggle and made your way over to the back, being very careful to watch where you placed your feet.
The lights were on towards the back and you squinted to get used to the light change. You hummed about the snack bar; Stark, or more likely someone who worked for him, had thought of literally every snack you might need to watch a film.
Pick and Mix, chocolate, popcorn, and plenty of treats you’d never even seen before.
“What are these?” A voice spoke behind you.
You jumped in the air, very nearly spilling the popcorn you had picked up.
“Jesus Loki.”
You looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but you were pretty far back and out of ear shot around this area.
“Can you not?”
“Not what? He asked, with a fake innocence.
“Not…do whatever you’re doing now.”
“I’m merely standing here.”
“And here I was thinking you had better things to do than stand and talk to Midgardians.” You repeated his words from earlier back at him.
Loki rolled his eyes at you.
“You surely know how to hold a grudge.”
“I surely do bitch.”
He didn’t find this very funny and shot you a displeased look.
“You are drunk again.”
You tutted and made double sure no one was listening.
“I’m not drunk Low-key.” You elongated his name as you helped yourself to some more sweets “I am a little tipsy maybe. Also you make it sound like all I do is constantly drink.”
“Well you have been drunk twice in barely as many days.”
“That was your brothers fault remember?”
He let out a long suffering sigh, as if he didn’t particularly want to remember.
“What are you eating?” He crinkled his nose up as you scuffed another gobful of popcorn.
“Popcorn.” You said, with your mouth half full.
“Are mortals taught any table manners at all?” He asked, disapprovingly.
“Do you not have popcorn on Asgard.”
He looked down at the spread of snacks.
“No.” He said carefully.
“Well what do you eat for sweets then?”
“I suppose we have nuts and grapes.”
“Some nuts and grapes? Christ no wonder you’re so highly strung.”
You gathered a plate up for him with selection of all the amazing confectionary Earth had to offer. “Here, try these.”
You stared at him in excitement as he ate a handful of Haribos.
“Well?”
“Hm. I’m not sure I enjoy this texture.”
“Try this next!” You very nearly shoved some popcorn into his mouth in your excitement and then realised that would probably get you killed, which would have been messy in Starks fancy lounge; so you just pointed to it instead.
Watching Loki try new things was surprisingly very entertaining to you. It was unusual to see Loki look so unsure of himself, as normally he swanned around cocky as anything.
You sighed, thinking back once again to the other night on the balcony. Loki was very good at brushing over any moments of vulnerability, even though he occasionally showed it in moments like this.
With his slightly furrowed forehead and quizzical expression as he tried earthly sweets was the epitome of vulnerable.
Loki made eye contact with you while you stared at him and swallowed his sweets down.
“Why are you looking at me like that mortal?” He asked, suspiciously.
“Nothing.” You smiled to yourself
“Now you are smiling like a loon. I hope you are not loosing your mind over that boy. We have a mission to complete, or have you forgotten?” He frowned at you, disgruntled.
“How could I forget the fact I’m heading to a burning wasteland soon.” You said sadly, thinking of your up and coming trip which, at best, ends in your death.
“There is no reason to be nervous. You have proved yourself rather difficult to maim.” Loki stated, deliberately.
“Physically maybe but I’m going to need a hell of a lot of therapy when this is over.” You muttered. “Suppose I should enjoy this last moment of calm before the storm.”
“What storm?” Loki asked cautiously.
“It’s just a figure of speech.”
“Hm.” Loki made a non committal humming noise.
“Let’s go finish off the film, I need the escapism.”
You sat back down together and tried to refocus on the film. You mind kept wandering however and you remained restless.
Were things between you and Loki changing? How many Loki gifs could you send of himself before he murdered you in your sleep?
And, most importantly, what fresh hell awaited you in the realm of fire?
A/N: Who enjoyed my fourth wall break (kinda?) haha! Also keep tuned folks for some more plot (finally) after a couple of plot-less chapters!
Taglist:
@creationsbyme @kikster606 @slytherinintj13 @th0rswh0res @huntress-artemiss @jannieka394 @stefffrs @misswimberly @thedistractedagglomeration @yoongissidebitchh @purplekitten30 @mischief2sarawr @johnmurphys-sass
@lonadane @imalovernotahater @lokisgoodgirl @laliceee @dlwrish @paetonnn
#loki#loki odinson#loki of asgard#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki x reader#loki x reader insert#loki smut#loki fanfic#tom hiddleston#loki laufyson#loki (marvel)#loki series
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how would older!tom grant react to you just randomly biting his big, beefy bicep?? like maybe you’re a bit sloshed and the urges™ are just too strong to resist, so you just…
like you don’t sink your teeth in enough to truly hurt or to draw blood, just enough to satisfy the urges™.
what’s his reaction???
ik, in canon, ruth bites into like his pec and he’s just like “oh??? … erm, ok.” and accepts his fate, but like… what’s older!tom grant’s reaction??? what’s his response to you randomly sinking your teeth into his beefy bicep??
(prior to seeing jq in that clip from hoard, i would’ve never considered myself a bitey kind of person… but here we are)
oooooh i have the PERFECT mental scenario in my head for this!!
okay so let's say it's been a friend's birthday, or a friend is leaving town, or it's a big work event. for whatever reason, you two went out for dinner with a big group of people, and even though you didn't drink loads, the couple of drinks you did have definitely hit you quicker than they would have when you were in your 20s. not enough to go off the rails or anything, but you're both definitely a little buzzed from it. (this is important, i prommy)
anyway, when you get back home, you guys slip into your usual night-time routine. tom gets in the shower first while you're doing your thing (maybe you're the sort of person who likes to get dolled up so you're taking all your accessories off, maybe you're more chilled w your appearance but you go around making sure the flat isn't a total bombsite once you wake up with an inevitable headache, whatever it is you do), and while you're in the shower, tom does his thing of getting into his singlet + undies (specifically YOUR fave visual there cass heheh), making sure you've got a fresh bottle of water beside your bed for the night, and settling in himself to scroll through reddit or whatever
you go and join him in bed and obv you wanna cuddle up to him bc a) he's tom and b) maybe you get a little extra affection-needy when you've been drinking. however, i think tom's the kind of drunk who literally cannot multi-task to save his life. he'll do whatever you want, but it has to be a "right, we're doing this now, let's go" kinda thing or else he'll just space out. so you're sat in the bed waiting for him to realise and at least put his arm around you while he reads, but he's too engrossed. (again, not ignoring you deliberately, he's just a lil dopey, bless him) you poke him in the arm, and he makes a weird sound but still remains scrolling through his phone. and so, with the last remnants of the night's alcohol taking your inhibitions away, you lean down and just press your teeth into his bicep. not a full on chomp, nothing painful, just enough so that he definitely feels teeth digging into him.
so he looks over with a Classic Tommy G Look™ like:
and you just look up at him, mouth still on his arm, and he just starts laughing, "what are you doing there, you wazzock?"
(wazzock is a term used in the general midlands dialect as an alternative word for like. idiot, silly goose, etc. there's a specific dialect where tom's canonically from, though, if you want to look up the sort of things he'd say, here's some good examples + i'm more than happy to try and help navigate what some words and phrases mean/are supposed to sound like lol)
anyway, you explain that he wasn't listening to you so Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures and he laughs it off with you and wraps his arm around you for the night
except as time goes on, you start realising that actually, even though you've only done it the once, you miss the feeling of biting tom's arm. it doesn't help when the weather gets warmer so he's wearing tank tops and short sleeves all the time and just... putting them on display, it's torture. so any time you're running on autopilot, or you just really need to do something impulsive, you'll go up to him and bite his arm. at first it still takes him by surprise a lot and makes him laugh, but eventually, he just sort of looks at you like, "y'alright?" and you'll just nod and he'll nod back and carry on doing whatever he's doing
besides, he totally gets you back for it when you guys are getting intimate. he doesn't bite anywhere that'll be super obvious, you're not teenagers leaving hickies on each others' necks, but he'll leave a nice little toothy bruise on your inner thigh, or just beneath your breast, or on your hip. just so that whenever you catch a glimpse of yourself in the shower or whatever, you're reminded that he can bite back, too 😌
#tom grant#make up 2019#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant imagine#older!tom grant#older!tom grant x reader#cassie 🌼
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Some commentary on the first two Letters from Watson. These are thoughts I had the first time I read the books, and when I reread them later. Feel free to ignore me and my ramblings. Here we go.
The first hint of Holmes being a little bit like me. ADHD? Autistic? Hell if I know. But short concentrated bursts of hyperproductivity and then crashing from that high? Sounds familiar, no?
To be fair, I really want to know the results of his experiments. Holmes is my hero not because he is smart, but because he is just unhinged enough to do the things I am afraid to do because he does not give a damn about societal expectations. I stan one (1) legend.
Are you now, Watson? And what interests you about him? Kinda gay to be interested in your to-be flatmate you just met today.
Oh Watson, you poor innocent neurotypical man. Side note, this was when I realised that hoarding all sorts of information might not be normal.
Why though? He didn't really do or say something that might have made Watson feel uncomfortable with approaching him to ask him about his occupation??? It also made me wonder if I appeared closed off to my friends when I actually did want to be part of the group.
This felt important to me somehow. It might not be music-music, but it was something (not just noise, like BBC showed). For some reason, Sherlock sawing on the violin made me really uncomfortable. Because Holmes might not always be creating works of art, but he is making something and doing it solely based on his feelings. And that is something he rarely does, outside of music and later, Watson.
Holmes! Being! Considerate! Take notes. Another one of the instances that made me feel a deep connection with Holmes. Also this is one of the very few times I wanted to slap Watson. Does he really need to apologise for making music you don't like? What about when you write things he doesn't like, hmm? What then?
The final nail in the coffin, so to speak. This was where I lost myself. So many times I have tried to figure out why Sherlock Holmes feels smart. I think it's partly because he can clearly explain his line of thinking. I have thoughts like these too, and I arrive at conclusions like this. But it's really hard to remember how exactly I arrived there. This part made me go "Same Brain!" and I feel exactly the same, even now.
And that's it. You are all free to ignore this and move on, but I get the feeling that this is how my posts are going to be for quite some time. Ta! See you when the next letter arrives.
#sherlock holmes#acd sherlock holmes#john watson#acd holmes#neurodivergent#meta analysis#letters from watson#my thoughts#random thoughts#ramblings#acd watson#i cant wait for the next one#even though I have the entire book series#oh well#such is life#acd canon
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omega!max is known to be super grumpy around the paddock when alpha!reader isn’t there but when reader is there he melts like butter! so sweet and cuddly and clings to them! i’m talking sitting on their lap, playing with their hands and cuddling into their neck and god forbid anyone try to take him away… he will literally scream and cry until you calm him down again
Oh god you’re so right!! I never thought I’d be obsessed with soft omega max but honestly... I really am. This ended up being so long because I am Obsessed™️. Send me more clingy omega!max thoughts, I beg you.
So I think the main reason max has always been a grumpy omega is that he’s always trying to resist his instincts? The only way he’s managed to do that is just to be the most unapproachable person ever because if he’s nice, then he might accidentally purr or nuzzle or, heaven forbid, ask someone to nest with him.
So he chooses to be grumpy and mean instead, because that’s safer. There’s no chance of him embarrassing himself that way.
The problem is, he can’t do that with you. He’s never been able to resist his instincts around you, from the moment he met you he became a classic needy omega.
At first he was absolutely mortified about that and tried his best to avoid you. But you weren’t about to let him slip through your fingers.
It would take max a long time to be comfortable with having you come to race weekends with him, because he knows he won’t be able to control his instincts around you.
But eventually it reaches a point where max can’t stand race weekends because he has to be away from you. He truly is a very needy omega, wanting your reassurance and touch and scent all the time.
Maybe he asks you to come with when it’s a triple header all away from Europe? So he knows he won’t be able to see you at all during those three weeks and the thought alone is enough to make him panic because he knows he can’t do that long, he just can’t.
Of course you agree to come with, you’ve hated not seeing max for those few days every weekend too, but you’ve tried not to pressure him because you know that pressuring max would make him run away, and you don’t want that.
So you go to your first race weekend with max and even though you keep very much in the background, max still finds you and clings to you.
The entire paddock is in shock because they can’t believe how happy max is?? He smiled at the merc guys when he entered the paddock because he was holding your hand, the poor mechanics nearly had several heart attacks.
And his own team don’t know what to do either, Christian very nearly called the medical team in when Max showed up to a briefing early and happy.
He’s always at your side, or more accurately, you’re always at his. He’s always looking for you, making sure that he knows exactly where you are if he can’t be right next to you.
The moment the team realises that you make make max so much easier to deal with, they don’t bother trying to get max to attend strategy meetings on his own. He’s going to tell you everything they discuss anyway, so they may as well let you join them and have a happy max.
Max loves sitting on your lap!! He sits on your lap, talking happily to the strategy team and listening attentively to the brief from the marketing team and even begging through a speech from Marko without complaint all because he was sitting on your lap, could lean back and get nuzzles whenever he wanted them.
Of course there are times when you can’t be with him, when he’s in the car or doing media or the drivers parade. But before he does those things, he tucks you away in a nest? He basically hoards you.
And the nest must be perfect!! He works so hard on it because it’s for you. And you MUST stay in the nest the entire time. He’ll be so upset if he comes back and you’re not in the nest.
Even during races, he still wants you in a nest in his drivers room, not in the garage. Cause no! You’re his alpha!! His!! You must stay in his nest!! You can come outside with him when he gets back, he’ll take you anywhere in the paddock that you’d like to see.
And yeah, no one can try to take you away. He will simply not be able to function. Nevermind grumpy max, it will be sobbing and screaming max, begging for his alpha.
Needless to say, the team begs you to come with every weekend.
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Oh, that Jeronimos gossip sounds interesting. What do you mean, it was a scandal?
In the 19th century, everyone in Europe was traversing an identity crisis and sought to define their own nationalism. So nations in europe looked back at their past and tried to think, which moment of the past signified our biggest glory? The answer to this question is whatever revival you see in the country's capital city. Paris with Gothic. England with Tudor. Greece is easy to answer. Italy, take a guess.
Well we realised, it has to be Manuel I, because that's when we were an EmPiRe. Glorious constructions! Colonialism! Imperialism!
More so, at this moment, and this when the subject of Art History is being developed into a field of studies and not just an "I have opinions" type of thing, people figured it was at this moment that Portugal, because it had so much money, developed its own style. A style uniquely portuguese, an architectural language that willingly (willingly!) rejected the renaissance, which could only mean we were SO POWERFUL. A style that is comprised of all these new ExOtIc things we were discovering across the globe, and which apparently celebrates the discoveries because wow look at all these ropes on these windows!
On a side note: now that we're in 2023, that is 90% false. Most art historians disagree that Manuelino is an architectural style at all. The "ropes" are not ropes and never were. There is some "exoticism" in the buildings, yes, but they're not there because "haha white man never seen an elephant before". They're actually symbols of power and they're documents of events that happened in history. Fun stuff, but as usual, the romantics were wrong.
So with this settled among the portuguese people, everyone decided we must find the most glorious example of this architecture! And hey! We have it! It's the Jeronimos Monastery! The greatest gem of Manuelino!
Just one problem.
In the 19th century, the monastery was in ruins.
In 1833, religious orders were annhiliated off the face of this country, for several reasons that to this day bother the shit out of historians, but the fact of the matter is that we have a fuckton of them, way to fucking many, and they're been hoarding shit like fucking dragons. To give you an idea, there was so much shit (and I mean art, jewellery, paintings, sculpture, etc) that entire wings of the National Museum of Ancient Art were FILLED with just the crap found inside these convents.
The Jeronimos Monastery was one of the many shut down, the monks then had to go elsewhere (which is when they sold the recipe for the custard tarts of Belém to the store that is still today, and why it is still a secret). Soon after, the Monastery became home to Casa Pia, which is kind of like an orphanage for the non-portuguese people.
When this debate was happening, the monastery was in near-ruins. I mean, completely run down. So it was a huge shame at the time.
Now, mind you, this is the kind of debate that the average Zé doesn't give a shit about, and at the time, the government wasn't really concerned about this.
Enter Alexandre Herculano, and Almeida Garrett got his hand in this too. The historian decided to raise a campaign to call everyone's attention to the sorry state the monastery was in, and how shameful it was for us, the portuguese, to leave such a building to be in such a state.
It was also around this time that the word "manuelino" was coined. Vernhagen comes up with the term, but it's Almeida Garrett (WHO WAS ENGLISH, I HAVE TO KEEP REMINDING EVERYONE HE WAS ENGLISH) defined the style.
Herculano's campaign worked, and the government decided to find a project to recover the monastery.
This is when the scandals starts.
I don't know from memory, but we're looking at something like 6 different architects who were rejected. Now, this is the 19th century, a time when the concepts of "restoration" and "conservation" are being discussed. For a quiuck rundown on the two: in western europe, there's Conservation, led by John Ruskin, who defends that buildings should have no intervention, but instead, we should do our best to preserve them and then let nature run its course, until collapses. And then there's Viollet-le-Duc, in France, who defends Restoration: that we absolutely must intervene in buildings, and we are free to rebuild parts of it and make additions, even if they are 500 years away, but to do so, we must use modern materials such as iron or steel, so that the untrained eye can immediately see that this is different, and thus this must be recent. In Portugal, we mostly follow Viollet-le-Duc's perspective.
So, with Viollet-led-Duc being the favoured theorist here, when we talk about "restoring" the monastery, we're talking about heavy intervention. But this was still fresh, so the enlightened individuals at the time took this to mean "let's just make shit up".
The entire souther wing of the monastery, what is today the archeological and naval museums, was made up. Admittedly, it was rebuilt based on what it used to look like, but... much more. Compare it with this painting from, I believe the 17th century:
There's something really funny here, which is: the monastery was in a shit state because of neglect. The 1755 earthquake actually, and miraculously, barely affected Belém.
You see that tower there? That is the original belltower. It's simple, because that's the dominating style at the time, and what the original architects went for. Today there's this thing
this was designed by an architect who, and I am sighing as I type this, came up with this shit, "an indian-style dome", to honour Vasco da Gama's achievements and our presence in India. It's no wonder this shit was Salazar's wet dream.
Eventually, they just keep adding shit. The entire southern body, as I stated, is one of them, which used to be the dormitories. When you look at what the monastery looks like today and compare it with the 17th century painting, you'll notice that the 19th century version is "a lot more". There's just a lot more shit going on. They basically waged on verticality, and added and added shit to make the monumento not only more vertical, but more symmetrical, which is NOT what was going on with the monastery before this.
If you look at that painting, you'll notice that there's something there that is not in the monastery anymore. Where today is the main entrance, kind of like a closed atrium that leads you not only to the monastery proper but the façade of the church (the western portal), in the painting, it has a massive body built on top of it. That body is gone, instead there's an open space, that ugly ass dome, and two spires opposite from it--both a 19th century invention. That "body" was meant to be one of two things: a sort of customs for every commercial ship coming from india, or a connection to a Palace Manuel I might have wanted to build here (this second one seems most likely to me). They tore the whole fucking down.
Then comes the graver thing.
So, by 1880, 12 projects had been submitted, each one of them is fighting for dear life to reconstruct this shit. At one point, this became a political matter. There's a lot of background to why this became such a heated debate: the britsh ultimatum, for example, really depressed the people enough that it was the perfect event to speak of Portugal's clonial past with nostalgic tears, and then there was this massive mound of stone that was falling apart that was supposed to signify this lost glory. Restoring the monastery meant restoring PORTUGAL'S PAST!
In this wild fever of "making shit up" and, as one intellectual of the time called it, I sincerely don't remember who but I can still hear my professor quoting this in class, "make Manuelino more than Manuelino truly is", then comes, I think he was an italian architect, and he has a GREAT idea.
Let's build a fucking tower.
Now, this tower was supposed to go in the middle of the southern body, standing where today is the main entrance to the Archeological Museum.
Let's look at this again
As you can see, no tower.
(Slight edit: there is a tower, but it's barely tower, it's so tiny I didn't even consider it a tower lmfao this thingw as really not bothered about VERTICALITY)
Like, I cannot highlight enough how 90% of what you see here today is just entirely made up, a completely made-up version of Manuelino that is NOT what we know Manuelino to be today, and a reflection of 19th century nationalism (which, to be fair, is different from Salzar's nationalism, though in a way that a rightist grandpa is different from his rightist grandson). But the tower was the epitome of this, and when shit got so wild they FINALLY stepped back and said "maybe we took it too far".
This italian guy goes ahead and just starts building the tower. I dont' remember the exact height, but this tower was HIGH. So high, immediately people who knew their shit told this guy it couldn't hold, because the building was from THE FUCKING 16TH CENTURY and didn't have the tructure to hold so much vertical weight. My man gave no shits. This is about when the myth of gothic being "high constructions cause people were trying to reach god" comes along, so they kinda thought this was the proper way to honour Manuelino and make it, as the mysterious dude said, more manuelino than manuelino truly is.
Here is an engraving of HALF of what it was supposed to look like, made during construction:
In 1878 construction starts. In December, the entire thing collapses, killing 10 workers.
This is exactly where this very famous photo comes from
This is what the Monastery looked like after it was botched and botched repeatedly. It started off as the gem of manuelino, and ended as the duchess of Alba of monuments, essentially.
This was so scandalous, EVERYONE wrote about it. Not only had further damage been caused to the monastery, it had caused the deaths of 10 workers. Those who had been trying to warn everyone to maybe don't overdo it, finally had their time to shine.
My absolutely favourite criticism comes from Ramalho Oritgão, who said about this new tower: "It couldn't fall from old age, so it fell from shame."
They had to abandon every project from this moment on. Reconstruction of this part of the moment would resume quickly, but they abandoned the idea of a tower altogether. But the entire campaign would only come to a complete end in 1940, by when this entire area of Belém became a fascist's wet dream to welcome the Portuguese World Exhibition. By then, however, MOST construction was concluded, and it was just soom rooms that were wrapped up.
The most interesting thing about this is that one of the people who witnessed this collapse was an englishman who would go on back home and, inspired by this event, build his own church, his own massive tower, and then do it disproportionately so it would collapse, all because he was so fascinated by this event. I keep forgetting who this was and what church we're talking about. I keep getting Fonthill Abbey but I'm not sure if that's it. And the reason he did that does have to fo with Ruskin's conservationism theories, where, if you're going to preserve things until the end, then you're going to love ruins (which is why so many british gardens have these small made-up ruins to discover), so this guy really wanted to build a church that would look like a ruin, couldn't come up with it, came to Portugal, witnessed this shit, and... voilà.
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Answering "Reblog this and let people send you asks (anonymously or not) about how they would describe your fics, your writing style or just anything they've thought about when reading your work" !!
HIII okay so I've only read one of your fics so far and it was a short one so I might not be the best person to answer this but I'm so glad you reblogged that post bc I actually do remember getting specific thoughts & feelings when reading one of yours!!
I'm not sure if your writing is always like this but in that fic (the one I commented on!!) it felt,,, cozy. it felt warm and familiar and the writing had life to it. it wasn't just Character A walking over to Character B's house (and then room). no, there were explanations, actions, emotions, thoughts and even little bits of humour in between. and that really added to the writing!!!!
the story also flowed amazingly!! it was a short fic but it didn't even feel rushed!! everything just felt natural. it was all cohesive from one paragraph to the next and I adore that!!
and the descriptions were wonderful!!! painted an image in my mind very easily. one I can only describe the image as love. if the fic was an artwork, it'd have a soft grainy/noisy textured layer over it and the colour palette would be of warm pinks and oranges -- and not just bc I was getting 'sun beginning to set' vibes from it, but also bc of how soft & tender the hurt/comfort in the fic was.
also, I remember opening it, reading the first 1 or 2 paragraphs and then getting so genuinely excited bc by then I could already tell you could write well LMAO -- and I was right!! you CAN write well!!! like just in general too!! idk how exactly to explain this but basically what I mean is that you're good at coming up with unique sentences and not super straight-forward plain ones!!
but anyways ya!! also, sorry for writing so much!!! I didn't realise I had so much to say 😭😭
(^ /gen to all of the above 💗)
- 💎
okay so.
I've been hoarding this for like 2 weeks now and at first I had like the typical kicking my feet, twirling my hair, gotta kiss anon on the mouth (platonically duh) kinda reaction. I was ready to search all of tumblr for the epic poet in my askbox. UNTIL I GOT TO THE END!
I read the end (lol i saw the emoji) and felt magically, red string-a-lly compelled to write a simonette fic. For some strange reason.
So here she is: a slightly longer simonette secret flavored fic!
Jeanette sneezed, readjusted her glasses, and then sneezed again. She wiped her nose miserably before she let out a trio of more sneezes.
Honestly, if the shelves didn't need dusting, she would have stopped. But, alas, Brittany had begged and pleaded with her to do her chores this week in order for her to go on a date.
("And I triple, no, quadruple! promise I won't ask you if we're soulmates this time, Jean!"
"You're not supposed to be asking her that anyway," Eleanor scoffed from the other side of their bedroom.
Brittany stuck her tongue out at her before she returned to her begging and pleading. "Oh, pretty please, Jeanette!")
So Jeanette had agreed, if only to be spared from Brittany's puppy dog pout and crocodile tears combo. That and her obvious hopeless romantic tendencies aside (Brittany's soulmate was a street musician around the corner and, although she wouldn't tell her, she hoped that this date might somehow led her to her soulmate), she really did enjoy working at the shop.
Planting new flowers, experimenting with new potion combinations, organizing, and then reorganizing new spell books, Jeanette loved all of it.
Jeanette pouted as she watched her hat fall to the ground after another round of sneezes. Okay, maybe she didn't love every job at the shop. The heavens above knew that she wasn't exactly helpful during a lunch rush.
Her hand waved the duster with an excited flourish, more than ready to be rid of the dust and its cruel attacks to her nose. Unfortunately, that only made the dust to throw itself back towards her, causing her not only to sneeze once again, but also caused her to sneeze herself right off the ladder, towards the ground.
She let out a breath of relief as she bounced on the summoned daisy bed, catching her fall, returning the smile her little sister was giving her.
Read on ao3
#i wanted to either eat this compliment or hang it up on my fridge <3#but then i was tricked! i was spelled! and somehow wrote every trope ever#simonette i hope i did you justice and if not i quit /jk#alvittany draft bbg you never seeing the light of day i fear /jk#thank you for the compliment random citizen! 💗#(megamind reference)#ask#anonymous#ask game turned gift fic is crazy but true#simonette#my writing
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A long Good Omens ramble, to just get this out of my system:
I will never understand some of the outright insulting and asinine decisions the show made when it came to what to focus on, the pacing, the editing, everything. S1 had the advantage of having the book's plot push back against it, but even there...
I think the best example is how Aziraphale is introduced in modern times in s1:
In the scriptbook we'd get our first glimpse of him in his bookshop, on the phone with a customer, while doing some helpful miracles.
This would have established Aziraphale as helpful (for whatever reason) and more importantly as someone interested in books, especially books on prophecies. So, credit where it's due, kudos to Mr Gaiman here. That was a good decision, focusing on bits that are important and relevant to the story.
But alas, this did not survive the cutting room. While the scene's still there later, ultimately it was decided that it's more important to show Aziraphale eating. Paired with how dim he's already in s1 it's a mircale they didn't put Michael Sheen in a fatsuit just to hammer home what a fat, food-obsessed idiot this character is.
And to add insult to injury, the scenes makes it look as if Aziraphale is genuinely creaming his pants at the prospect of Crowley having teleported in (compared to him -simply- enjoying the food in the script. Granted, there is some small squicky orientalism-tone in the scriptbook which... why?)
What then follows is simply manipulative. Gabriel is not a character, he's a display telling the audience what to think. This is just bad writing.
In general, literally all character besides Crowley are just mean to Aziraphale for... no reason that'd has any foundation in the showverse (more on that in a moment). This tricks the audience into thinking Showley is actually nice to Az, when, really, objectively, he isn't.
The dialogue ensuing is painful. Why would Aziraphale, who has no interest in clothes note the clothes, when he should have no reason to believe Gabriel is wearing them for any other reason than to blend in (probably cause he's been told to)? Why would Gabriel only NOW nag Aziraphale eating? Why even tell Aziraphale about the Antichrist? Yes, the show and script try to make it seem that Heaven thinks only Aziraphale can hold a candle to Crowley, but not a single of these instances makes any sense, mainly cause they ALL require the Antagonists to be purposefully incompetent.
So, it's a scene that is very much just there to paint crowley as oh so amazing and important, one way or the other, while establishing Aziraphale as a food obsessed dimwit, latter trait he shares with the rest of Heaven.
This is just. bad.
And worse, this could have been a great scene, if only the characters would have been allowed to be fundamentally people, as the characters were in the book.
It could have gone... maybe like this:
---
Aziraphale has gotten his meal and began eating, when the doorbell chimes, announcing another customer. We see someone walk by behind Aziraphale and sit down.
It takes Aziraphale a moment to realise who just sat down.
He swallows his food, very deliberately puts the chopsticks down, daps his mouth, equally deliberately put the napkin down. Deep breath, slow exhale, with an air of FML. He smiles strained.
Az: Good Evening... Gabriel.
Gabe: Aziraphale.
Az: What brings you to Earth?
Gabe: You. Coincidentally. I wanted to have a word with you, and found your shop closed.
Az: Gabriel, please, it's in the middle of the night.
Gabe: *a little amused* What? You adapting reasonable opening hours? The End of Days might be neigh... (the smile falters) *thoughtful and a little worried* Huh... They actually might be.
Az: *alarmed* Pardon?
Gabe: Why I wanted to talk to you. You have a very extensive collection of bo-
Az: *frowns* Gabriel, please, we talked about this. And I believe we agreed that there's nothing gluttonous or greedy. I am merely preserving humanities knowledge.
Gabe: By hoarding books of prophecy... and misprinted bibles... and Wilde first editions and-
Az: *frowns again and raises a hand* Gabriel, please, you didn't come here to nag me about my little harmless hobbies. So, please, what was this about Armageddon?
Gabe: *curt nod* My apologies. Though it is your collection of prophetic texts I wanted to talk about. We've gotten word Hell is up to something Big. Capital 'B' Big.
Az: *whinces* And you think it is Armageddon?
Gabe: It's been more than 6000 years now *the bright facade cracks a little, and for a moment he does look genuinely uncomfortable* It is quite overdue.
Az: ...It is... Isn't it.
They sit in silence for a moment, digesting the prospect.
Gabe: So, yes, I'd like to know if the various soothsayers and clairvoyants throughout human history have anything on the next five, ten, fifteen years. And you are one of the best sources.
Az: *smiles a little, awkward smile* I mean, I can see what I can find.
Gabe: *gets up* Splendid. Thank you. Let us know if you find anything. Whatever it is that Hell's up to, it won't do if we run into it unprepared. *pauses and looks at the sushi, then out the window, looking a little awkward* I admit, if it is Armageddon... it would be a bit of a shame. Humans are doing decently well these days and, between you and I, that does look divine.
Az: *blinks and relaxes* Oh. Oh, if you'd like you could *gestures as if to invite Gabriel to sit down and order something*
Gabe: *shakes head* No, but thank you. I'm scheduled to head to Canada.
Az: Oh.
Gabe *claps his shoulder* Stay safe. *leaves*
Az: you too. *rolls his shoulders, a little worried, and goes back to eating, much more thoughtful*
---
sure, ymmv, but I'd say like that the scene would have done the following:
Establish Az not as food- and crowley-obsessed, but as someone who enjoys life and collects books (especially on prophecy)
He and Gabriel would have a clear *strained-family* relation with one another, that still has some underlying respect, no matter what the mutual beef is
Gabriel knows much better of what's going on in Az' life (meaning that Az and Crowley will really have to play things smart to fly under the radar), and on Earth in general
Gabriel would be shown to have developed some sympathies for Earth and Humanity, but the job comes first, and this is God's plan, right? it has to be the good thing.
This way, I dare say, the scene and the characters would be much more alive, and not just means to tell the audience what to think. Also it would make Gabriel out to be an actual threat.
In the show however, not only does the scene as it is (as mentioned) not serve any in universe purpose and is only manipulative, but it ALSO doesn't make a lot of sense.
Not just does Gabriel not really have an actual reason to contact Aziraphale like that, but that Heaven even has that info is... off. It really feels like just another means to paint crowley as oh-so-amazing.
The show in general has a problem with plotholes galore where the book's story had none (Schrödinger's Plothole not withstanding)
We could have had something great, and I hope one day we can find out for certain who is responsible for it all being like... that.
Thank you for reading.
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Adaptive Nature
Chapter 3
Summary:
“Yeah.” He nods, “Yeah, you still owe me a story, after all.”
“I do?” Pixl pauses in splitting the orange, directly down the centre, to look at him.
“The stag brothers.”
Pixl hands him his half of the orange with a sigh, disturbing the small lantern and causing the flame inside to flicker with the movement. “I told you that’s not my speciality.”
(AO3 Link)
(Masterpost)
(6,390 words)
as always reblogs help more than likes! i hope you enjoy it :DD
He pushes into his tent, holding back the flap to let Pixl follow in behind him. Norman makes a small chirruping sound from where he’s lying, curled up, raising his head but not bothering to move from the mess of blankets he’s made into his bed. There’s a lantern already lit, and he thanks whoever did that for him, casting its soft glow over the canvas walls of the tent.
“Hey Norman,” he coos, crouching beside where he’s lying to stroke him, scratching behind his ear. Norman rolls over a little, stretching out and exposing his stomach. He resists the urge to pet it. It is a trap. He turns to look at Pixl, “I can't really offer you a cooked meal, I think the others would kill me if I started cooking meat this late.” And the thought of meat makes his stomach turn, bile beginning to climb up his throat. For some reason. He ignores it.
“Aren't you their Sheriff?” Pixl looks slightly worried. And a bit confused.
“Doesn't mean they can't kill me.” He moves away from Norman, closer to the bag he keeps most of his supplies in. Most importantly, the snacks he’s been hoarding for a while. He picks through his bag, finding an orange and several dried fruits, stored in little packets. There’s about a handful of almonds, too. “How do you feel about nuts?” He asks.
“They're nice,” Pixl shrugs, “Why?”
“Do you want some almonds?” He offers a few of them to Pixl, already chewing on one himself, picking through his bag to see if there’s anything more substantial. There isn't, and he gives up, turning back around with his dried mango and pineapple, and singular orange.
Pixl takes the offered almonds.
“It’s a nice place you've got here.” Pixl says.
“Thank you,” he digs his fingers into the muscles by his neck, hoping to relieve whatever tension that’s been building up over the past few days and causing his headaches. It doesn't work and he drops his hand to collect another almond, chewing on it thoughtfully and trying his best to ignore the headache that seems to pulse through his head every time he chews.
“So,” he looks up again, “Anything you do outside of being the Sheriff?”
He stiffens, the dried mango packet crinkling in his hand as he stares at Pixl. “Not much.” he manages, “I'm the Sheriff and the Sheriff is me.” He shrugs and laughs, “That’s how it is, you know?”
Pixl watches him, studies him, and he shifts a little from side to side, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I don't know, no.” Pixl says. “Say, what did you say your name was?”
“Oh,” he stares at Pixl, “It’s nothing important, don't worry about it. Probably best if you just know me as the Sheriff.”
Pixl frowns at him again.
“Do you want some dried mango?” He offers the packet out towards Pixl, and he takes it, still regarding him with suspicion. It makes him feel slightly uneasy. Pixl takes the dried mango, and he keeps the pineapple for himself, pulling it open and taking one of the pieces out. He prefers the pineapple to the mango.
Pixl doesn't complain as he eats, even though he probably expected to have something a little better to eat than dried fruits in a tent in the middle of the night.
“Is anyone expecting you?” Pixl gives him an odd look, and he quite quickly realises how creepy that sounds. “Not in a weird way!” He hurries to correct, “Just, is anyone going to be losing sleep if you don't get back?”
“No,” Pixl laughs a little, and it breaks the tension that had settled between them, “They're used to me wandering around, they might miss me if I'm not back tomorrow evening without a word, but not tonight.”
“Oh,” he nods, “That’s good.” He finishes the pineapple, tucking the bag he kept it in back into his supplies bag. He can probably use it again later, maybe for pineapple again. He weighs the orange in his hand, glancing over at Pixl.
When he meets his eyes they're glowing purple and he flinches backwards, dropping the orange on the floor. It rolls away from him, but he can't tear his eyes away, he can't look anywhere else. He can only continue to stare as the purple grows brighter and brighter and brighter, until all he can see is the glow. He can't even see Pixl’s face anymore.
The pressure in his head increases as the glow does, and he flinches back, gripping his head and hissing a breath out between his teeth. He still can't pull his eyes away, left staring into the purple glow that’s less in the shape of eyes and closer to just pure light that doesn't fade.
He blinks, and then folds over, gripping his head as it seems to explode with pain. He swears his ears are bleeding. They aren't, his hands aren't sticky where he presses against them, trying to soothe the last of the pain in his temples.
“Sheriff?” He looks up at Pixl’s voice, blinking once, then again, when he stares at Pixl, his eyes blue once more. He can still see the imprints of the light when he blinks. The splotches cover almost all of his vision, and he has to blink several times to get rid of it. Even then it still remains, as though permanently burned into his retina. He hopes it’s not. “Are you okay?”
“Uh, yeah?” His voice cracks and he winces, closing his eyes as another jab of pain shoots through his head.
“You sure about that?” Pixl smiles at him.
“Not really?” He tries, “Just been having…headaches. I think it’s the mesa heat, and we’ve all been working kinda hard to get into the fishbowl and stuff.” He leans back with a sigh, wincing as the sudden change in position makes his vision swim slightly and his head throb with a vengeance. “I probably just need to drink more.”
“Make sure you do then,” Pixl’s holding the orange, he notices, and he’s halfway through peeling it. There's a small pile of pieces of orange skin next to his knee, “I thought we could split this orange,” he continues, “If you want to.”
“Yeah.” He nods, “Yeah, you still owe me a story, after all.”
“I do?” Pixl pauses in splitting the orange, directly down the centre, to look at him.
“The stag brothers.”
Pixl hands him his half of the orange with a sigh, disturbing the small lantern and causing the flame inside to flicker with the movement. “I told you that’s not my speciality.”
“I don't really mind,” he shrugs, peeling one of the orange segments away from the others to eat. “I just want to know about it.”
Pixl sighs again, and it seems to echo around the tent. Norman stirs beside him, and he strokes his head absently until he curls a little closer and goes back to sleep, a slight purr escaping him.
“It was a story, presumed a true tale because of the historical accounts that followed, that was rediscovered during the Age of Empires, which, not my speciality so not my strong point. My friend would probably be able to recite the tale to you from memory.”
“And your friend isn't here.” He counters.
“I suppose not. Besides, the tale was distributed throughout all the empires, with at least one text in each of the twelve empires. We have what is suspected to be the original, but it is written in that indecipherable language, though we have some copies in Common. It was discovered by the ruler of the Mountain Empire,” he pauses, “We don't actually know it’s true name, that was also lost to time and language barriers.”
“The story?” He prompts, “What happened in the actual story?”
“Oh,” Pixl blinks, and stares down at his half of the orange in his hand, as though it holds the secrets to the universe. He eats another segment of his own half. “A millennia before the Age of Empires, there was the Age of Corruption, where a corruption of unknown source spread through the land and wiped out entire civilizations. The gods of the time came together to banish it, driving it back, and subsequently falling into a slumber. All but two.”
“The stag brothers?” He guesses.
“Yes, Aeor and Exor. They ruled together for a long while, yet Exor grew jealous of his brother because of the way he was praised by the people that were meant to worship them both equally. And as Aeor’s worship grew, so did Exor’s jealousy. However, Exor still had followers, and Exor and Aeor’s followers began to grow apart, splitting the once peaceful Mountain Empire in two. Exor believed that weaker beings should not survive while his brother believed in keeping everything equal. Aeor’s followers eventually drove them out.”
“Exor and his followers, because they remained loyal, even then, after being driven out of their homes, they set out into the world, conquering and destroying other towns and cities. Aeor set out after his brother, challenging him to a fight that lasted for days between the two of them. Aeor won, and imprisoned his brother within the mountain, capturing him and his followers, in the hopes that they would not be able to harm others again.”
“Wait,” he interrupts Pixl, “Let me guess, they harmed others again?”
Pixl laughs. “You’d be right about that. It was many years later, and worship of Aeor was still prevalent in the empire, but most people considered the gods as nothing more than stories. There were two children, two brothers, that were playing on the outskirts of this empire when they discovered a cave with ancient ruins within. One of the brothers, Alinar, remembered the stories of the old gods and asked his brother, Cohnal, to leave. Cohnal refused, likely already sensing the power that lay within the mountain, and ventured deeper. Cohnal continued to visit the ruins after that night, even as Alinar urged him not to.”
“Time passed and the brothers drifted. Cohnal became more violent and Alinar joined the High Council of the empire. Cohnal was banished by the townspeople when his actions were exposed, more…unsavoury things coming to light.” Pixl pauses, glancing at him. “I'm not going to tell you what it was that was uncovered, by the way, I couldn't sleep for days afterwards and I don't wish for you to suffer the same.”
“Thanks.” He has two segments of his orange left, but he leaves it for now, mind filled with whatever this Cohnal could have potentially done.
“It would later be revealed that Cohnal was following the voice of Exor all these years, and his time following that voice changed him- warped him into something unrecognisable, until even the townspeople he grew up with could no longer recognise him, instead reporting sightings of a strange creature, a demon, lurking on the outskirts of the city.”
“During this time, Alinar had become a lot more religious, visiting the shrine of Aeor regularly and worshipping. During this time, it is unknown when but that was likely when Exor selected Cohnal as his Chosen, but Alinar was also selected by Aeor as his Chosen. The stories say that Alinar grew mighty antlers, like a deer, but they were pure gold, as though someone had carved an elegant headdress for him. No one had, and there are a few accounts of other Chosen throughout the ages growing similar antlers. It’s said to be incredibly painful, beginning as headaches and often odd visions that allude to past experiences. People say they're from other lives, but the pool of information is so small that it’s hard to tell what is true and what isn't.”
Pixl pauses then, and looks up from the pile of orange peel that he had slowly been shredding into smaller pieces. He doesn't say anything, just staring at him, eyes piercing. He almost expects them to start glowing with how intense his stare is. They don't, and he continues his story.
“Alinar, hearing of this creature on the outskirts and receiving knowledge from Aeor, went to confront his brother - because he knew it was his brother, even if the other townspeople didn't. People had been going missing, and Alinar knew it was time to put a stop to it, even if there was only one solution to that and the cost would be great. He discovered his brother in the ruins they had first discovered as children, the remains of the missing people surrounding him.” Pixl breathes in, hands tightening around the orange peel before relaxing again.
“He didn't recognise his brother anymore, didn't recognise him as anything more than the monster he had turned into. He had antlers, just as Alinar did, but these twisted around his face, looking as though they had been implanted in his skull rather than growing from them. There was corruption hanging from these antlers too, seeming to drip endlessly from them. Alinar called out for assistance from Aeor, and he responded, allowing Alinar to defeat his brother, killing him and weakening Exor, before Aeor banished him to another dimension completely.”
“Wait,” he holds up a hand and Pixl pauses, “He kills his brother?”
“That was what we got from the text. It never explicitly said that he killed him, but it is heavily implied. Stories and legends like these often like to skip over the deaths that are caused in the conflicts they discuss, preferring to praise the heroes and an infallible good. Revealing them to have killed someone damages this image slightly.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Pixl winces, “Not the best. Do you want me to continue?”
“There’s more?”
“Uh, yeah. We’re pretty sure Alinar died shortly after the battle, if not directly following it after Aeor stopped using him as his Chosen. There’s no mention of him in any history books or records afterwards; however, it does state that the minds of people were wiped, so perhaps there was no need for him to gain special mention, as he was completely ordinary.”
“But they weren't the only Chosen, right?”
“No, they weren't. It continued throughout history, these antlered people, always from the Mountain Empire, appearing to fight each other. The one blessed with golden antlers always overcame the one cursed with the horns of a demon, continuing the cycle. It always seems as though both Chosen disappeared after their final battle with each other, so either Aeor was continuing his trend of wiping people’s memories, or both Chosen died.”
“There was one event, however, that seemed to bring an end to the conflict. Rather than there being solely red Corruption, which was the Corruption that Exor brought with him, there was a blue Corruption, fossilised evidence of which has been found, and was presumably brought forth by Aeor. The only other difference from other accounts was that the blessed Chosen was transformed too, into an almost horrific angelic being. This is the only account where both were confirmed to have died after the fight, Aeor’s Chosen just barely outlasting the Chosen of Exor. Apparently the townspeople were too afraid to approach either of them, and their bodies were simply left outside of the town to decay.”
He stares at Pixl. “That’s horrible.”
“It is, but it seemed to bring the conflict to an end, as both gods retreated. Some of my colleagues with more of a specialisation in the Age of Corruption or Gods suspect that they both overextended themselves and retreated to lick their metaphorical wounds. However, it wasn't the end of the conflict.”
“It sounds to me like these gods were more trouble than they were worth.”
Pixl laughs, breaking the hushed silence that had settled over their camp. He doesn't even want to think about how late (early?) it might be, listening instead to a few more complaints from outside as Pixl’s laughter dies down.
“I suppose so, but the next battle was truly the last of them. The last emperor of the Mountain Empire was Aeor’s Chosen, this time around, which was odd, as Aeor often chose those from lower backgrounds than his brother did. However, the Chosen’s brother had been missing for several decades, so it was presumed that they had been selected by Exor. The Chosen discovered a shrine to Alinar, where his antlers were laying upon a pedestal, apparently accompanied by a copy of this tale. Foolishly, he tried on the antlers, only to throw them away as soon as he had them on, apparently due to an overwhelming sense of pain.”
“He tried them on?”
“From our records, yes. We have a more in-depth recounting of this event as his husband was the emperor of the Codlands, and they had an incredibly extensive library.”
“Gay rights.”
“What?” Pixl frowns at him.
“Gay rights? You said he had a husband, so, gay rights.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Pixl laughs, “I’d never really thought of it like that.”
“Did his husband write the book?”
“It is suspected that he did, because there’s one paragraph in which the writer describes the way his eyes looked under the End’s sky. For a whole paragraph.”
“That’s epic.”
“Not really,” Pixl winces, “This emperor had very few ties with other empires, and he and his husbands had been enemies at first. The other emperors grew suspicious of him after he began to grow the antlers, and his brother had already begun to appear at the outskirts of empires, terrorising people. And likely none of them had heard of the Clash of the Great Stags, so they had no context to work under.”
“Two of those working with Exor’s Chosen captured Aeor’s Chosen, and he was tortured until being rescued by his future husband, who had apparently taken a closer interest in him after his antlers began to grow and was concerned by the other emperor’s treatment of him.”
“He might have just been using him,” he says.
“He might have, but the emperor of the Codlands seemed a kindly soul in any recounts of his rule. Though, he may have just been using him. Regardless,” Pixl shakes his head, eyes refocusing as he pushes his story back on track, “He helped the Chosen regain his feet just in time for the End’s portal to be opened, with Exor’s Chosen staging an attack on the Dragon to absorb Her magic. She was believed to be one of the last Titans.”
“Didn't they all die?” He asks.
“Only those in the Overworld and Nether.” Pixl says, “And this magic would allow likely Exor to regain power and defeat his brother for good. Obviously, Aeor’s Chosen and his newfound allies charged into battle, during which the two brothers engaged in battle. However, Aeor’s chosen abandoned his purpose to save his future husband from falling to his death. This distraction allowed them to kill the Dragon, but She had already passed Her power onto the next Dragon, and the wizard from the empire below the mountains saved it, keeping it safe from any further murders.”
“So was that it?” He asks, finding himself way too invested in this story now to leave it, “He ignored his purpose to save his husband-to-be?”
“Yes and no. They still fought later, during which Aeor’s Chosen won, at the cost of an antler, but he did sacrifice that battle, and the Dragon.”
“At the cost of an antler?”
“Exor’s Chosen just kind of,” Pixl mimes a snapping action, “Broke it off.”
“God.” He leans back a little, the movement disturbing his headache again. It rears its head with a vengeance, and he had almost managed to forget about it up until now. He blinks his eyes open a bit wider, hoping to dispel the black lurking at the edges of his vision.
“That’s all there really is to the story.” Pixl shrugs.
“All there is to the story?” He scoffs, “You just spoke to me for an hour straight about one story. Not that I'm complaining, it was a pretty cool story, but ending it with ‘that’s all there is’ is a little silly.”
“I suppose.” Pixl says, then laughs. “You're an interesting one, Sheriff. You better make sure to visit the Guild every now and then- look, give me your comm and I’ll give you my number.” Pixl makes a gesture with his hand, and he hands it over before he really thinks about it, watching Pixl as he taps his number into it.
“Thanks.” He says, when Pixl hands it back.
“No problem,” Pixl smiles at him, “I should probably get to sleep, I've gotta get back to the Guild, process a few things I've found.” His eyes linger on him then, studying him as Jimmy turns away to prepare to sleep as well.
“I can give you a ride back?” He offers.
“I'm fine, thanks.” Pixl smiles, but it’s more of a grimace.
“Hey, don't worry, Arrow’s a bit to get used to, I get it.”
“Thanks.” Pixl pulls a bedroll out of his bag, which, where had he been keeping that? “Goodnight.” He has it rolled out in one swift motion, laying down on it the next.
“Night.” He responds, laying down and curling an arm around Norman, even though he knows he’s going to wake up with a dead arm in the morning. He faces away from Pixl. He still can't get the image of his eyes glowing purple out of his mind.
He has a feeling he won't be sleeping much tonight.
--- --- ---
Pixl is already packing up when he wakes, feeling a lot less rested than he had hoped he would be. That seems to be becoming a common occurrence at the moment. He turns, watching as Pixl rolls up his bedroll, tucking it back into his bag. He’s still not sure how he manages to fit that and all of the historical texts he carries around with him in that tiny bag. It looks like it could just barely fit the bedroll, not even including the texts with it.
“Good morning.” Pixl startles a little as he speaks, looking over at him with wide eyes, stuffing a few more sheets of paper into his bag.
“Ah, good morning.” He closes the bag, tightening the buckle to keep it closed, “I hope I didn't wake you.”
“You didn't.” He probably did, but he’s not going to say anything about that, “I needed to be up a bit earlier today anyway.”
“Oh?” Pixl turns his eyes back to his bag, away from him, but he still feels like the other is watching him. Studying him. He shifts slightly in place, and Norman complains as he disturbs him.
“Yeah, gotta get to one of the other empires in the area. Sanctuary, or something? They do woods, and we need quite a few of those.”
“Well good luck with that, then. The Protector of Sanctuary is rather nice, we’ve met a few times, but he can drive a hard bargain. Make sure you take more than enough with you, just in case.”
“Will do,” he nods. “Thanks.”
“It’s not a problem.” Pixl shifts and stands, clothes rustling as he shakes his arms out, “I really should be going now, but it was lovely meeting you, Sheriff.”
He stands too. “And you. If you need any protection while wandering around ancient ruins, don't hesitate to give me a shout.”
Pixl considers him, squinting at his face. “Thank you for the offer.” He says. “I will.” Pixl shakes his hand, unsure of when he extended it, and then takes his leave, disappearing from the tent in one swift motion.
He sits back down, unsure of what to make of the strange man. He was odd, fairly knowledgeable about the history of the area and apparently knows of the few other settlements around here. Odd. He’s definitely a little odd. He had a rather piercing stare too, as though he just looked through you and instantly knew all your secrets.
Norman meows then, rubbing up against him and purring. “Yes, yes.” He sighs, shooing Norman away a little, “I know. Feeding time.” Norman meows again, a little louder this time, and he shushes him, already elbow-deep in his bag and rummaging around for the last of Norman’s food.
He acts like he was starving when he eventually sets it out for him, eating the food probably a little too fast. He doesn't do anything else, setting out a bowl of water for Norman, scratching him behind the ears, and exiting his tent, into the sunny morning of the mesa. The bag of valuables slung around his shoulders weighs heavily on him.
A few others are already ambling around, and they perk up when he emerges, looking to him for their orders of the day. “I've found a trade partner for the wood,” he tells them, making sure to keep his voice low and not disturb those still sleeping, “I’ll have to head out there today, it’s a little further east, but in the meantime you can start making schemes for what we need to build? And perhaps reinforcing the path down, we’re going to need to fit wagons of wood down there.”
“That’s easy enough, Sheriff,” one nods, “What time shall we expect you back?”
“Mid-evening.” He tells them, “And save some food for me this time, would you? I was convinced me and my friend were gonna starve last night.”
“Not our fault you decided to go gallivanting around. And makin’ new friends too?”
“He’s from a local guild of some kind,” he replies, checking Arrow over for any clumps of dirt that might rub while he rides her, “Found him wandering the mesa last night, set on walking home through the darkness.” He’s not sure why he lies, but those around him accept it easily enough.
“Academics are insane.” He heaves the saddle onto Arrow’s back as he listens, “Imagine dedicatin’ your whole life to reading some old an’ dusty texts? Insane, I tell you.”
“You're probably not far off there,” he checks all of the straps one last time, tugging on the girth and ignoring Arrow’s displeased huff as he tightens it a little further. “Can't imagine it.” He jumps a little in place, hopping up and down to build up, before finally swinging into the saddle from the ground.
He’s suddenly a lot taller than those surrounding him, and they have to crane their heads back to look up at him. “Mid-evening.” One of them says, “Any later and I'm eating your dinner.”
“Got it.” They all step back as a group when he kicks Arrow into motion, and he laughs at their complaints, glancing over his shoulder to admire the dust cloud he kicked up on departure. He waves to them, and a few make a rather choice gesture at him.
He laughs as he turns back around, steering Arrow east and ignoring the memory of a pull in his chest. It isn't there anymore, and his headache thrums in time with Arrow’s hooves. He urges her a little faster, a little more forward, allowing them both to tear over the dry mesa, dust billowing behind them as he leans a little further forward in his seat. The bag thumps against his bag as he rides, in a steady pattern.
The headache continues to pulse behind his eyes and in the edges of his head, back and forth with the rocking motion of the horse. It’s exhausting, and they're likely not even halfway there yet. He wishes he had thought to bring some painkillers with him. Though, in his defence, he had left in a hurry, grabbing the two horses and fleeing before-
He shakes his head, almost immediately regretting it as his headache pulses again, viciously stabbing at his head and his eyes, sending pulses of white through his vision. He blinks them away as best as he can, focusing on keeping Arrow straight.
He has to slow to a sedate canter as they enter a more lush area, cautious of hidden vines waiting to trip Arrow and send him flying. He’s also a little reluctant to let her jump any logs, he’d watched his brother fly from the saddle one too many times while jumping to trust her with that.
He slows further as the trees around him seem to crowd a little closer, the foliage just a little too dense to continue at the pace they’d been moving at. There’s a winding path that he’s following and hoping it’s not just a path an animal cut through the trees.
The light flickers between the leaves, in and out of his vision, and it only serves to make his headache worse. He squints his eyes a little more shut, peering ahead and learning around Arrow’s head to make sure they're still on the thin track.
They are, and Arrow seems content to continue following it, only stopping once to nibble at a plant. He moves her on before she can bury her head in the bush, concerned with the way the sun is almost at its peak already. It’s taken him half a day to get here, and he needs to be back quicker than he arrived.
Light flashes through the trees, and he winces at the stab of pain that follows it, jolting through his head. He turns Arrow towards it anyway. It’s probably their best bet for finding Sanctuary in this mess of a jungle.
He emerges from beneath the canopy, only to find the sea lapping at a small shore. He stares at it, unsure of how he’s managed to hit the sea before Sanctuary. He peers around him, left, then right. He can't see very far due to the light seemingly intent on blinding him, but he is pretty sure that there’s something poking out into the water.
He turns Arrow towards it. It’s their best bet, otherwise he’s going to be forced to return with nothing and set out again tomorrow to try and find some wood so they can stop living in tents. He’s sick and tired of the sand getting everywhere.
Arrow picks her way carefully along the shoreline, avoiding the lapping waves with a vengeance. He has to cling a little tighter to the reins after the third time she hops away from the water. He thought horses liked water. She jumps every time the water comes just a little too close to her hooves, and the jolting and jumping and the goddamn light is doing nothing for his headache.
“Hey!” That person shouting isn't doing much for it either, and he turns towards the sound with a tired sigh. There’s someone standing just inside the treeline, on the wooden structure he can now see is a dock. They have their hands on their hips and look, quite frankly, pissed.
He swallows, lifting one hand from the reins to wave at them. They don't change their stance though, and he leads Arrow a little closer to them, trying to exercise caution.
“What are you doing here?” They demand, face set into a frown.
“Uh, looking for Sanctuary?” He looks around, “Is this not it?”
“Oh.” The person blinks, face changing to a smile, “Well this is it, what can I do for you?” He thinks he might have whiplash from the swift change in personality, but dismounts anyway, feet clunking on the wood.
“I'm looking for some wood?” His head swims a little, “I've got a small settlement, probably,” he turns to look at the sun, “Just about west from here? And we’re a bit sick of living in tents. I just, I heard this was the place to ask?”
“Well aren't you in luck,” the man grins at him, “We’ve just got a new shipment in today!” He turns away from him, and hurries to lead Arrow after him, following him deeper into the jungle. There’s a flourishing town around the dock, and he can see several people peering at him from inside their houses, watching him walk past.
“I'm the Protector of Sanctuary,” the man introduces himself, “You may call me Sausage, if you so wish.”
“I'm the Sheriff.” He responds, ignoring the weird look that Sausage gives him at that.
“Just the Sheriff?” Sausage asks.
“Just the Sheriff.” He agrees. There’s a building at the end of the road they're currently on, several cut logs depicted on the sign in front. He gets the feeling that’s where they're headed. “Sheriff of Tumble Town.”
“Tumble Town,” Sausage hums, “That’s a nice name, new, did you say?”
“Relatively new, yeah, building up currently. I'm hoping it won't take long, especially not if the logs you stock are as good quality as I hear they are.”
“Oh, you're a flatterer aren't you?” The man laughs, “You can get most places in life with a little flattery, and it’s a good thing it works on me, hm?” Sausage spins on his heel in front of the building, opening his arms wide and startling both him and Arrow.
“I suppose so?”
“So,” Sausage moves on, “What can I get for you today? Spruce? Oak? Birch? Dark oak? Mangrove?”
“Uh, spruce and oak?” He’s trying to think of what goes best with the reds and browns of the mesa, which woods will blend in best while also standing out. But not too much.
“Right, right.” Sausage nods his head, as though in approval, “We can get a pretty large shipment out to you within the next two days, provided that you give us the coordinates, obviously. How many people did you say were living with you Sheriff?”
“There’s probably about fifteen of us in total?” He hasn't done a headcount but that seems about right to him. He’s struggling to think with the headache, it’s as though it’s springing from side to side of his skull, pinging back and forth with an electricity that leaves him feeling slightly sick.
“Fifteen.” Sausage nods, turning his back on him to write on a sheet of paper. “How does six bundles of each sound?”
“Six bundles?” He questions. The ground is swaying a little, his head pounding. All he wants to do is close his eyes and go back to sleep. He can't though, and he forces them open again. Sausage’s back is still turned towards him. He’s not writing anymore.
“Just over thirty logs in each bundle, should give you enough to at least get started, and you know where we are now, don't you?”
“Yeah.” He nods, but it’s barely that, barely an up and down motion. It still makes pain ricochet around his brain. “How much will that be?”
“What’ve you got?” Sausage turns to face him again, and he’s already pulling his bag from his shoulder, opening it for Sausage to peer into.
“Ooh, some gold would do nicely.” Sausage looks up at him, I’ll take all the gold you've got in this bag. I’ve been meaning to go mining, but last time I went on a trip there was all this stuff, just all over the walls.” Sausage shudders. “It was disgusting.”
He hands the gold over, letting Sausage tuck it away into his own bag. He raises his hand to shake, and Sausage takes it, giving it a firm shake to seal the deal. “What did you say your name was again?” Sausage asks, and he doesn't release his hand when he tries to tug it backwards.
“I didn't.” He pulls at his hand, but Sausage’s grip remains steadfast, gripping onto his hand hard enough that he swears he can feel his bones grind together.
“Oh.” He meets Sausage’s eyes, jolting back, fear making his heart begin to pound as he drops Arrow’s reins to claw at Sausage’s hand. The whole of his eyes, iris, sclera- all of it, has turned a deep blue, interspersed with pinpricks of light. “What is it, then?”
“I'm not telling you.” He grits out, yanking his hand back. Sausage releases it, and he fumbles for Arrow’s reins again. When he looks back at Sausage his eyes are normal again, and he’s staring at his hand in confusion.
“Sorry about that,” Sausage grins when he looks back up at him, “Must’ve spaced out or something.”
“Or something.” He mutters. His head hurts.
“We’ll have your logs along in a day or two. Pleasure doing business with you.” He sticks his hand out for a handshake, frowning a moment later and pulling his hand back towards himself. “There’s a more direct route through the jungle that way.” Sausage points him in the opposite direction of the dock, and he nods, already hurrying in the direction.
He can't help but feel afraid, casting Sausage a backwards glance as he mounts Arrow again. He’s still standing there, staring at his hand. As he watches, Sausage turns it over, checking over his skin.
He kicks Arrow into motion, tearing along the path a little faster than he probably should. He doesn't care. He doesn't slow, either, until he’s burst out of the other side of the jungle and is well on his way back to the mesa.
He only slows when his comm buzzes, and he pulls it up, peering at the words on the screen. He adjusts the brightness when it hurts his eyes and adds fuel to the fire of his headache.
<Pixlriffs> I’ve found information about a new ruins, and I'm rather certain I’ve pinpointed it on the map. Do you want to accompany me, make sure I don't die to the night?
He pulls Arrow to a stop to type out his response.
<SolidarityGaming> i can. when do you want to visit it?
<Pixlriffs> Tomorrow, sorry for the short notice. I won't hold it against you if you can't make it.
<SolidarityGaming> i can do tomorrow
He kicks Arrow into a canter once more, dust billowing behind them, as he considers their expedition for tomorrow. How had Pixl found another place to visit so quickly? He must've only just arrived back, unless he had someone else do the research for him. But also, why him?
Surely they have people better suited to accompany a researcher to an ancient ruin than some random sheriff from a barely beginning town.
His head hurts.
#juno.writes#REBLOG please :]#adaptive nature fic#empires smp#jimmy solidarity#empires smp fic#empires smp season 2#pixlriffs#mythicalsausage#empires pixl#empires sausage#empires jimmy#esmp#empiressmp#empires smp s2#empires s2#esmp s2#solidaritygaming#solidarity gaming
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Dnd but kaif is the bard that fucks everything and stan is the dragon. Or the other way around. Who knows
YEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSS...
admittedly my knowledge of dnd is limited so i just. made shit up. but i dont really care. this one is long lol
tw: inhuman biology (beeg dragon dick), possessive behaviour, biting/marking, utterly obscene amounts of cum. like oh my god
kaif is a travelling adventurer, moving from town to town and doing what odd jobs he can to make a living. also he fucks a lot (which is usually why he has to leave town lol)
eventually, he ends up in a small farming village on the outskirts of a massive forest
the villagers tell him about a massive deep purple dragon with obsidian scales who's been tormenting their village for years, and urges him to go up to the mountains in the forest to take the dragon on
kaif doesnt really believe that there's a dragon here- after all, the adventurers guilds of the region would've surely caught wind by now and sent someone out to deal with it. so he agrees
he eventually does get up there, and promptly falls headfirst into one of the caves
he finds himself in a massive MASSIVE hoard of gems, gold and other valuables along side dragon scales that seem to have been shed and realises he's fucked up
stan, the gigantic purple dragon, instantly comes rushing over to inspect the intruder in his lair
kaif panics. and flirts. he does that a lot.
stan flirts back briefly, his voice sending tremors through the ground as he does. so kaif does what he does best! he continues to flirt
stan vanishes, something that confuses kaif, although he quickly reappears, scrambling over the piles of gold.
he's turned himself into a more humanoid form, with long brown hair and sparkling purple eyes, although quite a few dragon-like traits remain, such as his long tail (with scales along his spine), claws, and large black curling horns that frame his face, and a very long tongue.
he's also completely fucking naked. and REALLY horny, already erect and leaking precum.
unbeknownst to kaif, the only reason why stan has been "terrifying" the village was because he was lonely. he hasn't had anyone to talk to in centuries.
additionally, most dragons his age have found their mates by now- he's been completely alone, and he's been very pent up, frustrated, and horny.
dragon sex toys aren't really a thing, and there aren't any that can help him too much in his human form because he's a very very needy boy. to top it all off, he can never get rid of his claws, and he's big enough that it's very hard to jack off with them. there's an embarrassingly large amount of pillows in his secondary nest that he's had to throw out because he destroyed them by humping them.
so for kaif to stumble in, and begin to flirt with him, and enthusiastically consent? it's like a fucking dream come true
he basically fucking pounces onto the man, dragging him away to his nest filled with pillows and blankets, purring (dragons purr now) and panting heavily as he tears the clothing off of him
stan also probably casts a casual aphrodisiac spell on kaif. it's more for kaif's benefit than his, because, well. stan is a slutty pent up twink dragon who hasn't had sex in centuries. they're going to be there for a while.
kaif is absolutely into this, and he kisses stan and toys with his nipples a bit too. stan absolutely loves it, because again, claws are not very conducive for masturbating, so kaif gets to touch stan all over and watch how he squirms
stan doesn't want to rail kaif- not just yet.
instead, he tears off his pants and licks kaif's cock a few times just to make sure he's ready, before sliding kaif inside of him
he rides kaif until the man sees stars
stan is the tightest kaif's ever had, and the way he moves and moans on top of him whilst staring at him with those beautiful fucking eyes drives him insane
he cums quite a lot. the aphrodisiac spell keeps him going and stan doesn't stop because he wants more and more of kaif's cum to fill him up
eventually, stan does pull off. the spell is still in affect, and stan flips kaif over effortlessly so that he's lying on his belly
by this point, kaif is basically being used as a fucktoy, but he absolutely loves it
stan uses his massive tongue to stretch kaif out and get him ready. the feeling of having a tongue so deep inside of him is incredibly alien, but kaif's not complaining as he cums all over the pillows, moaning brokenly as he's unable to feel anything else but the incredibly overwhelming pleasure
tears are rolling down his face as he babbles mindlessly, eyes foggy and mouth slightly ajar. stan thinks it's beautiful
stan lines up his huge dragon cock with kaif's entrance, before slowly thrusting in
despite the fact that something of this size should probably tear him apart (for fucks sake, it's nearly the length of his arm and thick enough that he needs both hands to hold it) it slides in effortlessly, its inhuman shape and ridges hitting all of the right places inside of kaif. there's a noticable bulge in his stomach where it rests
if kaif was broken before, he's absolutely gone now. he's in a pure state of bliss, unable to think, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he lets stan have his way with him
stan's pace starts out slow, but quickly speeds up as he loses himself too, breeding kaif with rapid animalistic thrusts
kaif shudders with every single thrust, overstimulation numbing his mind. he swears he passes out a few times with the sheer force of the orgasms he's experiencing, but time has all melted together so he can't tell
at some point stan leans down and bites into his shoulder. kaif makes a sound somewhere inbetween a yelp and a moan, trembling as stan licks the blood from the wound he's just made
it takes hours for stan to come. dragons have a very big libido, after all
when he finally does, he pumps kaif so full it fills his entire stomach, the skin distending as kaif's body struggles to keep it all inside
stan pulls out, watching with glee as his cum gushes out of kaif
kaif's completely passed out by this point, sleeping soundly on the pillows below him.
stan uses his magic to clean kaif up without waking him, before snuggling up next to him
he gently traces the bite mark on kaif's shoulder, and grins. it's absolutely going to scar- and that's just what he wanted
he's a precious, beautiful thing, and one of the best things stan has ever laid his eyes on in his centuries of living. he's perfect. and after all, kaif was the one who wandered into his hoard of his own accord.
and humans can have mate-bonds with dragons, too- it expends their life span to match that of their dragon partner. stan would absolutely love it if kaif stayed forever.
he quickly scampers off to find the most luxurious gold jewlery he has, and adorns kaif with every single piece, making him glitter in the candle light and fully marking him as belonging to stan.
kaif is now a part of stan's hoard, and stan thinks he might just be the crown jewel.
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HI I SAW IN THE TAGS YOURE MAKING A CHARACTER TELL ME ABOUT THEM (THREAT) (I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS)
YES I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT MY CHARACTER (finally)
Ok ok so she's a tiefling warlock (i almost made her a bard but then I realised I was just trying to make Noise 2 so I went with warlock instead. It didn't work very well)
So anyway, her name's Requital but she doesn't trust most people so everyone knows her as Talia (RequiTALIA get it). She's pretending to be a noble and thats the name of her alter ego.
Shes chaotic good and really hates the rich or anyone who takes advantage of others (even though she does it herself sometimes, shhh its tootally justified). I'd say her manner is like Janus Sanders but her like ideals are more Robin Hood. She loves stealing from people she thinks deserve it and she uses her noblewoman alterego to do that.
This is why Narula, an archfey, offered her a warlock pact. Narula is vengeful and wants to punish wrongdoers but she's been imprisoned in some kind of enchanted forest (this is my DMs backstory because for some reason we can't find any lore for Narula except her name) so she needed someone to do this for her. Obviously Requital was like hell yeah im doing that anyway, gimme powers. But if she gets too sidetracked or goes after someone Narula doesn't deem evil then she's gonna be in trooouble~
So yeah she's kinda bound to keep enacting her own form of justice on the world. BUT because she constantly surrounds herself with shitty people she's exacerbated her own trust issues and can't properly judge who deserves it anymore, which led to... problems.
She heard about a nobleman who was stockpiling wealth and assumed he was exploiting his people for his own gain. So she befriended him (she told herself that his kindness was just a facade like always) and stole all the money only to later learn that he wasn't hoarding the wealth. There was a blight plaguing his people and he'd been gathering funds to treat it. So by stealing the money, she'd actually prevented him from saving lives. More people died because of her AND she hurt someone who genuinely thought of her as a friend (and she maybe thought of as a friend too but she's not gonna admit that). So now she's trying to atone for that mistake.
All of her spells and stuff are about deception, illusion, disguise, etc (she's kinda useless in combat rip). So far she's made loads of people basically piss their pants with her Fey Presence. She's also scammed an elf diviner (i think they were a diviner at least?? They could tell the future and stuff) and managed to persuade them that she really was a noblewoman who was travelling and so didn't have much money with her but pretty please can she have that magic item she'll pay 25 of the 150 gold upfront and then have someone come back with the rest of the money soon (really hoping we don't see that elf again lol where am I gonna find 125 gold). One of the other party members overheard this and called bullshit so I had to roll with disadvantage but I nat 20ed and did it anyway!! (Obviously she's really pissed about that and is now holding blackmail over him)
Oh and in our session today she Fey Presence-ed a guy and then the SAME PERSON just BARGED IN and knocked out HER PRISONER!!!! and she's furious so she tried to kill him (multiple times) but his armour class is so high that all she managed to do was waste a spell slot and nearly stab herself lmao. Imagine a really angry kitten trying to scratch you but being held by the scruff of the neck thats her right now
In terms of appearance she's like kinda tall and pretty weak. Her skin is dark with bronze freckles and her eyes are jet black, her horns and tail are bronze and she wears her hair in long black locs which fade to red at the ends. Since getting to level 2 though one of her eyes has turned purple (like Narula's) and her horns have become more fey-like but she's been hiding this using Disguise Self so only she knows about it.
#my original idea for requital was for her to be cool but tbh shes kinda patheticcore instead#dnd#dnd tiefling#dnd character#ask
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I think Larian should put in some sort of tag to make it clear you're lying or being manipulative in that scene because otherwise I do think it just comes off as very muddled (and a little unfair to people who wanted to play it that way and instead were blindsided by being told they're lying and broken up with)
The reason I read it as manipulation is because that's what Mizora does, and she's using magic to manipulate your physical body so it would make sense if she'd influence your mind as well. She clearly didn't have good intentions and even if you the player have complete control Tav the character I still feel could easily have been read as being manipulated into it with minimal RPing necessary. And just in general I feel like a lot of people would want to play the scene that way
And with Astarion I just don't see the acting when you do that dialogue tree vs other ways to play that scene, like it rather seems like the act drops but that could just be Neil’s acting conflicting with what was actually written
Basically I just feel like cheating and manipulation are both ways to read that scene that make complete sense and it's a little disappointing that the game doesn't make it more obvious that it's not
(also I really hope this doesn't come across as arguing I genuinely think this is an interesting discussion even if I don't agree with your perspective)
Oh no! I am absolutely enjoying this discussion, anon. I love talking about my thoughts and hearing your different ones. I never thought of it as arguing in the slightest, I was actually looking forward to your next reply every time I answered <3 million smooches to you anon I'm having so much fun rn.
And about the dialogue tag thing, I absolutely agree. A lot of people mentioned it too in the game feedback. Even ingame I picked a lot of options that I thought were innocent or meant as a joke only to be met with the fact they meant something completely different and had to reload.
It needs to be clearer when you're lying to someone, flirting with them, being serious, or joking. Remember the hoards of people who tirggeted Gale's romance accidentally by just being nice to him?
Especially about lies, a lot of times I'm confused about the options available because I'm not sure if Tav is making shit up, or if i missed out on a major detail.
And maybe it's subjective.. Someone could argue that you genuinely did believe that Mizora manipulated you because she does leave a mark on you that you never agreed to at the end. I don't see it that way but it's up to interpretation.
I was someone who fell for Astarion's acting during Act 1. All that nice talk and coaxing? His honeyed words to get you to sleep with him? I genuinely took them to heart and believed them. I was like oh he already told me about Cazador so he trusts me and definitely isn't manipulating me ehe!
Throughout all of my first playthrough, I avoided all spoilers and discussions about bg3. I was genuinely eating up all of Astarion's flattery and dialogue. When he confessed to giving me sex in exchange for protection during act 2 i was extremely confused because when did that ever happen?
He seemed very eager in all the sex and flirting scenes?? I didn't get it at all at the time and didn't realise how good of an actor he is.
The only time when I genuinely saw Astarion for who he is ,is when he admits to the fact you would've been one of his victims in the cage in another life at Cazador's palace. Even when surrounded by his mistakes, he deflects any attempt of you to put the guilt on him.
I actually left the game for a week straight. I felt both disgusted with myself for also seeing him as a sex object, i am no better than these people in the cages. Yet also disgusted with him for manipulating both my character and irl me for so long. That's why i feel weird to write nsfw about him even now, I feel weird when I see sexy fanart of him. Astarion is genuinely one of the most complex characters I have ever seen, and I can't simply reduce him to a victim or a sexy vampire. His writing team and voice actor work is phenomenal.
I did the cheating on him with Mizora, too, just out of curiosity and reloaded myself after. I felt very assured when he said he didn't mind and didn't blame me, that sleeping with a devil is a chance you don't simply miss. I trusted his words because I didn't know better.
Only after when I finished the game, saw more posts about him that go in depth about his character and the many many ways he manipulates you in to ensure his own safety, did I actually see him fully as a whole person.
That's why I'm doubtful of even his sympathy during the manipulated Mizora option, the delivery doesn't show a hint of lying in the slighest I agree. But also for me none of his other canonly manipulative lines show any hint of lying for me.
Remember the orgy in Sharess Caress? Where he is all enthusiastic after the Cazador is dealt with, but during it he completely zones out? Doesn't the fact he tells you to "let him join next time" after the Mizora event ring any similar alarms?
I think in the most generous cases possible, he isn't aware he is manipulating you. He is just saying what he thinks would please you. It clearly would make you happy to have the drow threesome even while he himself was sex replused since act 2 and until act 3. Like how it would make you happy for him to not make a big deal out of the cheating.
But it's interesting that you can see honesty in his responses. If anything, it shows that you're piecing together the slivers of truth he lets slip out during his acts because even he himself can still make mistakes and reveal the truth amidst a lie.
There is also another theory!
Astarion doesn't care about sexual cheating, only romantic cheating.
During the Halsin poly dialogue, he gets really happy when you reassure him that he is the one you love. The one your heart lies with. Then tells you to go fuck Halsin as much as you want.
So in this scenario the fact Mizora is a devil matters a lot because Astarion says it himself, devils do not fall in love.
Maybe that's why he was all giddy and smiles, knowing fully it's just sex, something he barely puts value on anymore since he has been freed of i, and doesn't mind you sleeping with devils.
At the end of the day, yeah, like you said, cheating and manipulation are two valid ways to read into the conversation. It did feel rushed a bit, we didn't even get to actually fuck Mizora Goddammit! If i wanted freaky weird magic sex I would've fucked the local wizard instead!
Mizora's intentions are just to make your lover jealous, she admits she just wanted to stir the pot and saw you as a target.
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The Anniversary Present (The Riddler x Reader)
Your relationship and break up with the Riddler related to two statements.
Firstly, that you needed Edward more than he needed you.
Secondly, a break up would break your heart much more than it would Edward's. Both statements seemed to ring true.
Edward acted somewhat indifferent and as absorbed with his work as always- the cause of the break up.
Whilst the world seemed to stop spinning for you, life went on for Edward. It had been five weeks since.
Edward had Jonathan and Oswald at his apartment. Edward was ruffling through his things exasperated. Oswald and Jonathan sat on his bed under the guise of 'helping'.
They had no such intention and Edward was so distracted- he was yet to notice. Or perhaps he had and was thankful the his two associates wouldn't be digging into his things. Either reason was possible.
"I know it's in here! It just so happens I have since put things in my closet since!" Jonathan and Oswald looked at one another, neither really cared for Edward’s rambling or his struggle. As far as they could see it, the issue was minimal considering Edward's excellent memory.
Although Edward might have a bit of a hoarding problem. As Edward threw container after container to the floor or bed, Jonathan and Oswald couldn't help themselves but sneak some peaks.
Well, Oswald did most of the snooping whilst Jonathan gave him brief glances at the random items Oswald presented to him.
Digging through a dark green container, Oswald pulled out a bracelet, but it wasn't an ordinary looking one. There was a rectangle with a screen- a line through the middle. It looked like it would light up but it gave no clues as to what it was.
"Edward, what is this- ahem, what is on this bracelet?"
"Where did you get it from?" Edward called back.
"Dark green box." Oswald replied. "A black bracelet with a...box thing on it." "Oh...it's a gift from (Y/N). They got me cuff links and that bracelet for an anniversary. You touch the surface and it sends a signal to the linked bracelet and vice versa."
"So it lights up when you touch it?" Jonathan asked.
"Yes. (Y/N) insisted I had it in circumstances, I'd be gone for long periods. They'd get worried at night." Edward re-emerged from his closet, his eyes latched onto the bracelet almost immediately.
"That's very sweet." Oswald smiled at the bracelet.
"(Y/N) really is one of a kind." Jonthan said, casting his own glance and Edward paused. "Yes, they are... hey, let me see that."
Oswald handed the bracelet to Edward.
Edward looked at the bracelet, staring down at the sensor. It hadn't been touched since the break up. Never had such a light brought Edward so much comfort. Now he longed for that light when it was quiet and calm.
Jonathan and Oswald noticed the shift in Edward. Working had been an excellent distraction but it seemed that was all it was. A distraction. Edward's eyes showed the well hidden pain he had successfully hidden until now. Although it wasn't completely at the surface. Edward would never show his true feelings in front of anyone. Of that, the two rogues were certain.
"Ed, concentrate." Jonathan's voice startled Edward from his thoughts and he put it down and hurried back into the closet.
Later that night, Edward sat on his couch. Unable to concentrate, he found himself staring down at the bracelet in his hands.
Break ups were rarely easy. However, he couldn't bring himself to move on. He had hoped he'd have been over this given a few hours. He hadn't.
It was still as raw then as it was now. Things made much more sense when you were around.
No...it was deeper than that.
He could hide it from everyone else but there was no long term hiding from himself.
The truth was not that he couldn't live without you. He could.
The truth was that he simply didn't want to live without you. That realisation was much more frightening to him. It was foreign.
The Riddler never needed anybody...until you.
He hadn't wanted anybody...until you. He could have wealth come morning if he so wished. He had earned his well deserved respect and notoriety. Yet both paled in comparison to his desire for you. He couldn't have these things but have you be the thing that got away?
No. No, that was simply stupid and masochistic.
Before he realised it, Edward ran his thumb along the sensor.
He wasn't too panicked.
You likely wouldn't have known unless you kept the bracelet.
That wasn't likely even if you had kept it. He watched a white light upon the sensor and then it was gone. Time passed and nothing happened. That was as expected. Swiping his thumb over it reminded him of the times he had with you. His apartment was safe from being rearranged. No object would just so happen to have been moved by the next time he lay eyes upon it. So why did he long for that irritating inconvenience? His life was easier without you. He was accustomed to being alone and yet-.
A glint of green flickered upon the sensor.
His eyes widened, lips parted.
You had responded. You have touched the sensor and the signal went to his bracelet. You not only had the bracelet, but you were holding it. Edward smiled lightly.
Perhaps this chapter of his life isn't completely at an end.
#batman#batman villains#the riddler#edward nygma#reader#oneshot#one shot#Jonathan Crane#scarecrow#penguin#oswald cobblepot
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