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#I'm sorry in advance if you don't know that anime series
thebigbiwolf · 7 months
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Starvin', Darlin' - Chapter 1
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Pairing: Not quite friends to lovers Astarion x OC/F!Tav
Chapter Summary: Astarion knows his power is waning, and seducing their leader Evelyn has gone poorly at best. If he is to keep himself in the tiefling's good graces, he's left with no other options. He must drink from a thinking creature.
Everything goes according to plan... until it doesn't.
Fic Tags: Minor spoilers for Act 1, The Bite Scene, Emotional slow burn, Angst, Teasing, Frottage (god I'm sorry), Pining, This is my first ever fic so idk how to tag things appropriately but you get the gist.
Fic Warnings: Eventual Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubcon (I cannot stress this enough), Bloodlust/Loss of control, Mentions of blood, lmk if you need anything else tagged.
Word Count: 6.1k
Read on Ao3: Here
A/N: I started this as a way to get this fruity fuck out of my head but I think I just made the situation worse. If you know me, no you don't. If you've followed me for a long time, sorry in advance. I may make this a mini-series depending on time and reception, but we'll see! OC is a rogue who seduces men to gain their favor but we'll get to that in later chapters.
Astarion's trance did not come easily that night; his hunger manifesting as a throbbing headache that refused to subside. It had been hours of tossing and turning in his tent, willing his body to settle, forcing himself to ruminate on the past few weeks.
Before he joined this disgustingly merry little group of adventurers, hunting rabbits and the occasional boar had been enough to sustain him. In fact, dining on larger animals had been a significant upgrade from the meager flies and rats he’d become so accustomed to under his master’s rule, but that was before all of this incessant hard labor. 
He could feel his strength waning over the last several days. His senses were dulling, his reflexes numbed. Just this morning, he had failed to gain the upper hand with a particularly nasty kobold. He paid for it dearly when the damned thing all but pummeled him into the ground. 
Luckily, Lae’zel had been there, hammer at the ready to divorce its jaw from its head. Beautifully done, by the way, but his blunder did not go unnoticed. All this sneaking around for barely a nibble during his watch was beginning to take its toll.
Astarion knew he was on thin ice, considering his relationship with their fearless, incomparable leader began with him pulling a knife on her and grappling her to the ground -  in front of the damn wizard, no less. Some friction was to be expected.
But things hadn’t progressed much between the two of them since then. The pair rarely saw eye to eye on anything, and she seemed to have an innate passion for berating him over his unwillingness to stop for every single injured bird or helpless child as they traveled - as if playing the part of a hero was a favorable distraction from the literal time bomb in both their party and their heads. 
“The world is full of potential allies, Astarion,” she had told him, sprinkled with a hint of her usual irritation. “I’m simply expanding our network.” As if a group of starving refugees and mud-slinging tree huggers were going to find them a decent healer any sooner. At this point, he’d heavily considered taking his chances with the goblins. At least they knew how to have fun.
What made matters even more frustrating was that Evelyn was seemingly unaffected by his charms.
Just how exactly was he supposed to secure his place under her protection when the woman barely spared him a second glance? Surely he wasn’t losing his touch. He was a master of seduction. Thousands of others had thrown themselves at his feet for far less effort. He’s had centuries of practice. The mere notion would be ridiculous.
In fact, he couldn’t remember a single moment in the last two hundred years where his advances had been so callously brushed off. Every attempt to make her laugh with his (admittedly morbid) quips was met with her chastising him for being insensitive and making threats to send him back to camp. She dismissed every flirtation, even if her lovely little blush betrayed her. She seemed determined to make him play her little game. He just hasn’t quite figured out what the rules are, yet.
Astarion couldn’t afford to take any more chances. If sleeping his way into her good graces wasn't an option, he was left with little choice. He wanted to make himself indispensable, so he was going to have to take drastic measures to ensure that his strength and physical prowess would never come into question. At least, not again.
He would have to drink from a thinking creature.
The idea of it was as invigorating as it was terrifying. He had spent the last two centuries enduring unimaginable cruelty, starved in ways mortals couldn’t begin to imagine--for years--without any reprieve. 
No, starving doesn’t even scratch the surface. No words could ever describe the tortuous, gnawing, ravenous hunger that consumed his every waking moment under the heavy weight of Cazador’s boot.
Though, Cazador wasn’t here now, was he? 
Curious.
Astarion had spent some time ruminating on who to approach before settling on Evelyn, though his options were limited at best. The githyanki was entirely out of the question; gods forbid he get caught, she would make quick work of him without allowing him so much as a single word of explanation. Shadowheart was…tempting, but that mark on her hand frequently caused her pain, and who knows if that magic would have any affect on him or worse, her taste? And Gale, well, he would rather subsist on a diet of garlic sprinkled with holy water before he put his lips anywhere near that man.
So, Evelyn it was. The tiefling wasn't terrible to look at. She was a younger woman full of vitality, so surely she wouldn’t miss a bit of her blood. He would just have to mind the horns. 
He would be in and out. A quick nibble, then he'd be right as rain. One bite, he tells himself, barely enough to leave a mark. Then, he’ll pass it off and say that they had been attacked by bats during his watch and, not wanting to wake everyone, he quietly dispatched them and saved the day. Unfortunately, not before one of those wretched little beasts managed to puncture their illustrious hero. It was the perfect plan. Infallible. They'll eat it right up.
He continues passing through camp undetected, catlike in his silence, but when he reaches the canvas entrance of her tent ready to pounce, he freezes at the sight of her.
She looked…different while she slept. Softer, gentler, almost; surrounded by a nest of fur blankets, snoozing away instead of attacking his ego. Her hair was puddled beneath her head and horns like dark, red wine; rich and unrestrained by her usual loose bun. 
Another realization hits him: this is the first time Astarion has ever seen her in her sleep clothes, a simple basic black wrapping across her breasts. Practical. Of course.
Her skin is pale enough to rival his own, even with the warmth of the firelight. She’s lying on her side, her uncovered shoulder lightly dusted in freckles, much like her cheeks. Her lips are slightly parted, and in the silence of the night air, he can hear her light, even breaths.
Cute, he thinks to himself. He could almost forgive her for being so maddeningly aloof with a face like that. Almost. 
Astarion leans over to brush her hair away from her neck; the strands softer than he had anticipated. The thrum of her pulse underneath is magnetic. It pulls at his very being, beckoning him closer.
Settling on his knees beside her, his arms form a cage around her body.
He takes in the image of her form one last time and allows himself a moment to savor it. She is toned and lithe, much like himself, but smaller. Perfect. Delectable. 
He bends closer, feeling her gentle puffs of breath on his shoulder; the warmth of her body. His ears ring with anticipation; manicured nails clench the sheets by her head.
She’s going to be so-
Something brushes his leg, hidden beneath the furs.
Her tail. He forgot about her bloody tail.
Evelyn stirs, and fully awakens right as his teeth are at her throat, eyes meeting his. 
Shit.
“Shit.”
With incredible speed, she reflexively reaches for the dagger closest to her pillow, lunging at him. He just barely seizes her arm in time to save himself from being skewered.
“What in the hells are you-” he clasps his palm over her mouth to silence her.
The girl’s eyes are wild with panic, their golden hues burning a hole in his skull. He notices them flit down to where his body hovers over hers before she begins to struggle against him. “No, no, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not what it looks like, I swear.” 
Her expression shifts from panicked to confused. She ceases her squirming. Good. Well, not good, but better. He can work with this.
“When I take my hand away, you have to promise not to scream and wake the whole camp,” he continues, hushed, “unless you’d like for them to find us tangled up in your bedroll. You wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression now, would you, darling?”
Her eyes widen. Her face flushes deep red, warming his palm against her skin.
There, he thinks, that should-
Her body turns, and suddenly he feels the hard edge of Evelyn’s knee make contact with the corner of his ribs. A direct hit. Pain shoots up his chest as he rolls off of her and onto his side, clutching himself and coughing, heaving air back into his lungs.
She hurriedly covers herself with her sheets, glaring at him as he struggles to collect his breath. He can see her fuming through the tears forming in the corner of his vision. If looks could kill, he’s sure she would have him skinned alive. Maybe use what's left of him to scare away the crows. 
She’s still holding the knife out toward him.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What do you think you’re doing in here?” 
A fair question, one he was not prepared to answer. Perfect. He’s just going to have to wing this. Possibly with two broken ribs. He can’t believe he expected this to go any smoother.
“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you.” He raises a hand and falls back on his thighs with a grunt, grimacing in pain. His other clutches his side, a bit of sweat forming at his brow. “I just…” 
Okay, this is it. He’s got this.
“I just needed, well,” 
Aaaaand,
“Blood.”
There. Excellent form, Astarion. Good show.
“I - You needed what?”
She blinks at him, whether in disbelief or shock, he cannot say.
It takes a moment before his words start to sink in. She takes that time to scan over his body, purposefully. 
He couldn’t quite tell if she was looking for something or if she was deciding whether or not to believe him, but then again, what other explanation could he give? 
He works over his options in his head, considering just how difficult it would be to pass this all off as a terrible joke, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to start on damage control, he hears Evelyn heave a deep sigh. She lowers her weapon, then tosses it to the side, massaging her eyes in frustration. 
Oh. Well, alright.
After some time, he watches her expression soften into understanding as a few notable things dawn on her. He’s never really eaten any meals with them, has he? Then there was the drained boar, which he so carelessly left out by the road.  The damned beast hadn’t even taken the edge off that night, and he was so desperate to quell the nagging ache in his stomach that it lay there forgotten until she found it the next morning. He admitted to her himself that it had been drained by a vampire, after all…
A bit of silence follows.
Astarion doesn’t say a word, doesn’t dare move a muscle. He just allows her the time to process whatever she’s feeling. What’s important is that he’s still alive, she hasn't run him out of camp, and she hasn’t screamed for help. 
He may be able to salvage this, yet.
She scratches the back of her head, carding her fingers through her hair to ease her irritation before finally meeting his gaze.
“Astarion.” The sound of his name leaving her lips pulls him from his thoughts. He can see the disappointment on her soft features just as plainly as he can feel it humming through their psionic link. 
He didn’t think himself capable of guilt, but there was an emotion akin to it brewing within his chest. Ugh. He breaks eye contact, searching for anything to pull his attention away from his discomfort. The miscellaneous bags of clothing and trinkets she had scattered about her tent were just oh so fascinating. And was that a new hairbrush? Hm. 
“Why didn’t you tell me?” 
He’s taken aback by her question. He expected a more offensive reaction. A few insults, maybe ones pertaining to his sharp teeth or bloodlust, but an olive branch?
After all the lies, the invasion of privacy, and the failed attempt at assault?
She really is just full of surprises.
“Well, we aren’t exactly close, you and I. Though, you must admit, I’ve made several attempts to…” He waves a hand between them for emphasis, “mend the gap, so to speak.”
“Well, have you ever considered maybe not being such an asshole?”
Ouch.
But in fairness, no.
“I…” He thinks carefully about what to say next. The buzzing behind his eye socket acts as a threat, reminding him of the very fragile barrier between their minds. Should she choose to dig her claws in and pry the information out of him, she may find more than he's comfortable sharing, so Astarion makes a decision that surprises even himself. 
He chooses to be genuine.
“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” He gestures towards the dagger at her side. “But believe me, I’m not some monster. I’ve never killed another person.”
Evelyn raises an eyebrow at him. 
“Well, not for food,” he quickly corrects. “I’ve been subsisting on animals. Boars—like the one you found the other day—deer, kobolds, whatever I can get my hands on.”
“And what exactly was the plan here? You were just going to kill me and expect the others not to notice?” 
He recoils at the accusation but fights to keep his expression neutral. “I had no intention of killing you. I would never do such a thing.” He leans in closer to her and lowers his voice, as if letting her in on a secret. “We need each other.” 
Evelyn shifts to lean her weight on her arm as she listens, dark hair falling to the side of her shoulder. With the new level of exposure, he can hear her pulse settling into a more comfortable rhythm. 
He swallows. Hard. His hunger is rearing its ugly head again, just at the sound of her.
Oh well, might as well lay all the cards out on the table while we’re at it.
He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and continues, “As it stands right now, I’m too slow. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” There is a question hidden in his words, a favor to be asked.
She seems pensive as she considers him, mulling over everything he’s said in her mind. She lifts a thumb to her mouth and starts nibbling on her nail, no longer looking at him. Nervous too, no doubt. How could she not be with what he’s asking of her, as if he had any right to ask in the first place? 
“I understand you detest me, but-”
Evelyn appears to snap to some conclusion, sitting up straighter and placing her arms to her sides before she responds.
“No, I should detest you, Astarion, but I don’t. You just don’t impress me.”
Wow.
It feels as though he’s been slapped. He barks out a laugh that’s a bit too loud for the intimate setting, trying to mitigate the damage to his ego. “Excuse me?”
She has the nerve to shrug at him. “I’ve seen every trick you’ve used to fill your little black book, probably a thousand items over. I’ve used them all myself. So, frankly, I'm uninspired.”
For the first time in his undead life, he’s totally speechless. His face contorts in indignation, disbelief. This devil.
There is something dangerous in her expression as she leans further forward, neck tilted, exposing herself to him. Her eyes are hooded, with long lashes casting shadows over her cheeks. Her shoulders relax as she lifts her chin to stare down her nose at him, sneering. 
He works his jaw, clenching the muscles unconsciously.
“Astarion, men are idiots. I’ve spent my entire adult life toying with them and robbing them blind. I’ve heard and seen it all. You really believed a few empty praises and mediocre jokes would have me jumping into bed with you? 
Wha- Mediocre?
He opens his mouth with every intention of retaliating, but Evelyn’s palm unexpectedly rests itself on his calf, and the action stuns him into silence. She begins leisurely dragging her nails up towards his thigh. 
His body responds involuntarily; eagerly, frustratingly, the delicate little motion leaving his skin prickling with excitement. 
She regards his chest, admiring the hard planes of muscle. Then, her attention slowly inches down the toned curve of his abs until, finally, they stop at where his cock hardens disobediently beneath his pants.
“Your pretty face doesn’t detract from the fact that you’re still just a man.”
It finally clicks.
She’s baiting him, attempting to get a rise out of him. 
Hm. Impressive.
Normally, at this point in her little game, he assumes most men would take her flirtations at face value. They would likely mistake this performance as an enthusiastic plea to bed her, but Astarion is not like most men. He sees her little game for what it is and recognizes it with ease because he has spent lifetimes playing it himself.
She leans back, satisfied with her little show, and smirks at him.
“So, you admit I have a pretty face?” He teases, his own smile twisting, becoming more mischievous.
She rolls her eyes, but this time she laughs. It’s a soft sound, genuine.
A pinkish hue crawls up her face and paints the tips of her pointed ears, but he can’t discern if that's supposed to be part of the act or, more likely, an unfortunate side-effect of the living experience. He’s finding it hard not to admire her dedication, regardless. 
Well, that’s quite enough of that. Back to business, then.
“It’s settled,” Astarion clasps his hands together, “I’ll just need to impress you with my more eclectic talents if I am to earn your favor. We can start by gracefully slaughtering a few goblins, depending on how the rest of tonight goes. Which is entirely up to you, of course.”
The tiefling squints at him. “Oh no, if you want something from me, darling, you’re going to have to ask politely. With manners. You have those, don’t you? Familiar with them, at least?”
Under normal circumstances, he would find this amusing; nothing like a little role reversal to spice up the evening. But this feels different, heavier, as if her feigning indifference will alleviate the weight of what he's asking of her.
Fine. He supposes relinquishing a little bit of his pride is a fair price to pay.
He takes a deep breath. "Please." 
"Please, what?" She lifts an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Come on, Astarion. Use your words. I know you’re quite fond of them."
He scoffs at her shamelessness, and for a moment, he honestly considers whether this is worth it, but he can't back out now. He'll make it through this, surely. He's been through worse. 
Through gritted teeth, he barely spits out, "Please, may I drink from you?" 
Gods. He's going to be sick.
"Good boy. That wasn't so hard, was it?" 
He’s going to fucking kill her.
There is an uncomfortable silence that follows. So many unspoken questions and a rising suspense that makes Evelyn adjust herself uncomfortably where she sits. Astarion is also musing to himself, still wondering how it's all come to this. Why did he choose her, again? Something about her not killing him right away? Death may have been preferable to this, actually, but he is pulled back to reality when she finally speaks up.
“So," she's picking lint off one of her pillows, avoiding his gaze as she asks, "how exactly should we do this?”
Well, it occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know. He understands the mechanics behind it, of course, but how exactly were they supposed to go about this?
Should he tell her that he’s never actually fed from a person before? Would it make her more or less comfortable to know that he’s just as clueless about this as she is? 
No. He decides against it. Astarion has always done best when he’s playing the role of the confident seductor. This should be no different. He’ll just treat this as if he’s bedding a virgin: guide her, take things slow, and she’ll no doubt be begging him for more soon enough. It’ll be easy. All she has to do is behave.
“Lie back and get comfortable.”
He moves himself closer to her, settling at her side as she does what she’s told. The flap of the tent remains open, letting in the faintest amount of warmth and illuminating Evelyn’s features. With such close proximity, he can see the gold flames within her irises flickering and dancing, a genetic trait attributed to some luckier members of her race, and a feature of her’s that Astarion would have never otherwise noticed. 
He can hear her pulse quickening as he closes the space between them, lifting himself a bit to settle above her, once again caging her between his arms. One of his knees parts her legs, and he can tell in the quietness of her tent that she’s struggling to hide her uneven breaths. Her stare is intense, but he can’t read the meaning behind it.
He decides to give her another out, just in case. Better safe than sorry. 
“We don't have to do this, you know,” his voice is composed, as if his body wasn't currently screaming with anticipation. “I appreciate the consideration, regardless.” 
“I’m fine.” Her response is clipped, dismissive. Her face remains stoic though her fingers fidget with the blankets at her sides. She had moved the furs to give him better access to her body. The darkness inside him preens at the concept.
Best get on with it, then.
He leans down and, unable to help himself, takes in the scent of her: woodsmoke and the faintest hint of vanilla, which he had watched her pick up from a merchant in the grove just the other day. “For Gale’s cooking,” she amended, when he gave her a questioning look.
He gives her one more moment to stop him.
She doesn’t.
A bit of pressure on the skin before it snaps and gives way, his fangs finally sinking into her. He can feel Evelyn’s body tense at the sudden intrusion. She hisses through gritted teeth, her arms involuntarily raising at her sides, reaching for him, but she stops herself before she touches him. He wants to tell her it's fine, expected, even, the need to ground herself, but all of his higher thoughts are plunged into complete chaos when he finally registers her taste. 
Every cell in his body awakens.
The iron flavor of her floods his throat and sets his nerves ablaze. Its heat fills, expands, and splits every crack in his self control into deep, cavernous fissures. 
A groan escapes Astarions throat before he has the chance to quell it. Of course it would be like this - drinking from a thinking creature. Drinking from her. He understands now why Cazador forbade this. Before, he had assumed it was a matter of keeping his spawn weak and compliant, but this was entirely different. This was far more than a method of control. The bastard had been withholding ecstasy greater than he’d ever known.
A feeling swells in him, crashing like waves through his veins. Warmth. It invades him and fills every fiber of his being. He wasn’t naive enough to believe his first time wouldn't have some sort of great, emotional impact, but this? 
This was everything. How was he ever supposed to come back from this?
"Agh - Astarion," he barely registers her pathetic little whine through the haze. She finally allows herself to grab onto him, the loose sleeve of his nightshirt tightening in her fist. For purchase, he tells himself with what little is left of his consciousness, practical. That is until he lowers himself fully onto her in an attempt to relieve the strain on his biceps.
With no space left between their bodies, he doesn’t anticipate the blazing heat of her core on his thigh, even through the several layers of clothing. She gasps at the sudden pressure,  fingers twitching, nails digging little crescent shapes into his skin. What surprises him most, though, is when the taste in his mouth melts into a flavor so much sweeter. 
Something primal within him recognizes it instantly; it twists in his gut and sits there heavily, as if the emotion were his own: arousal.
Oh.
She is burning for him.
Good.
After all of that teasing, the woman he’s spent weeks enduring endless lectures from actually does desire him, or at the very least desires his body. Which is just as favorable, in his opinion. It’s just nice to know all his hard work hasn’t gone to waste. 
If she lets him live, he's going to spend every waking moment tormenting her over this. His lips vibrate against her skin as he chuckles to himself, causing some of her blood to run down his chin in hot rivulets, blooming new stains onto her sheets. 
He knows he’s had enough. He means to let go, he truly does, lest he end up draining their groups' only hope of survival. Surely that wouldn't go over well with their companions. Pitchforks, and all that. 
But her whimpering, her heat, coupled with the ferocity of his hunger, all provoke a feeling that has been building beneath the surface which he’s unable to name; it's desperate and possessive, a predator guarding its kill from hungry scavengers. The monster in him casts a dark shadow over his mind as he feeds. His body no longer feels as though it is his own, betraying him; a slave to the demands of his appetite. 
He needs her, needs all of her, and he cannot will himself to stop, too lost in sensation and the sound of her mewling to bow to his higher thinking. 
He mindlessly rocks his weight into her and grunts—a slow, unintentional grind against her mound. The motion comes easy to him, like breathing - instinctual. The blunt edge of his clothed cock drags deliciously through her parted thighs. Evelyn’s breath hitches at the feeling, her squirming beneath him giving him the sickest form of satisfaction, but the animal within him demands her compliance.
His hand gathers her loose hair and pulls, growling, warning her to keep still. She whines at the force, back arching. The other grabs her arm, pinning it down, and tightens, thumb gently stroking against her wrist.
"Astarion,"
She’s no doubt making a mess in her smallclothes as she quivers beneath him, all flushed cheeks and furrowed brows. She may deny it later, but her taste tells him everything he needs to know.
Her body is burning against his cool skin, and her gasps are only spurring him on. He laps at the wound, dragging his tongue up the length of her throat, indulging himself in her. It's too much. 
He feels her pulse weakening, her rhythm slowing.
It isn't enough. 
He's about to latch on to her again, teeth at the ready and blinded by his eagerness, when he suddenly feels a piercing sensation behind his eye - the tadpole, he assumes, writhing in panic. Screeching at him to open himself to it. The discomfort is just enough to pull him back into his body. Then Evelyn's voice invades his mind. 
‘Astarion, enough!’
He disentangles his limbs from hers, practically jumping off of the poor woman. He’s gasping for breath as he comes to his senses, the mix of her blood and his saliva staining his lips pink. It dribbles down his chin. He wipes his face with the back of his knuckles and licks them clean.
But then, the cold realization of what he’s done is thrust upon him like a bucket of iced water, shocking him back to the present. He’s going to need to come up with one hell of an apology to get himself out of this one. Or maybe he should just run? Baldur’s Gate is really only a few weeks travel at most. 
“Shit,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. "Are you alright, dear?"
Evelyn's eyes meet his. Her pupils are blown, almost entirely overtaking the gold of her irises when she glances away from him to assess the damage.
"Gods damn it," she quietly groans and applies pressure to the wound, thankfully finding that it isn't too deep or particularly painful. She tends to it, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from her brow. She searches for a rag as she avoids his concerned stare
A deep purple bruise spreads across her pale skin. Small red droplets trickle down the length of her nape, dampening her black breast band before soaking into it and disappearing entirely. He collects himself, willing his mind to cease its incessant urge to lick the damned liquid from her neck. She is flushed and sweating, unbalanced, panting from exertion as much as her own embarrassment. Her dark hair is a tangled mess from his attention. She looks ravaged. 
It… suits her.
Astarion clears his throat, trying his best not to get caught admiring his handiwork.
She was right about one thing. He was, at least in some respects, just a man... 
“Here,” he insists, grabbing one of the smaller furs and holding it up to her. She takes it from him without acknowledgement.
“I -” He begins, but he’s at a loss for words. What does one say in this situation? ‘My sincerest apologies. I don’t know what came over me! I must have gotten swept up in the moment!’ as if that pitiful excuse would overshadow the fact that he manhandled and almost devoured her.
He wants to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat.
He begins to worry that she really may not forgive him. He fears she'll wake the whole camp, or maybe finally cast him out like the monster he is. He wouldn't blame her. She took a great leap of faith in trusting him with this, and he rutted against her like some horny bugbear. Or worse, a teenager, he sneers.
Evelyn pulls the rabbit skin away from her neck, examining it. The brown hairs are matted and crimson, but the bleeding has stopped. She runs her fingers over the puncture marks, feeling the skin dip slightly where his fangs pierced her. She sighs with resignation, surely thinking about how the others will approach her with a plethora of questions tomorrow morning, face reddening at the idea.
“You could have warned me, you know.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I didn’t realize I was agreeing to…all of that.” 
His heart sinks. 
Of course she thinks it was on purpose. I mean, look at him. He’s all but thrown himself at her since the moment they met. He’s spent this entire time playing the part of the rake. It's only natural she assumes the worst.
“Evelyn, darling,” speaking her name aloud brings her focus back onto him. 
The gravity of it is suffocating, condensing the already small space they shared. The tension pulls at something undefinable within him that he thought was long dead—a sincerity that betrays the character he’s been crafting for as long as he can remember. 
It sways him.
More truths to forgive more transgressions, then. A fair transaction.
“I’ve had this condition for over two centuries, but, truth be told,” he clears his throat again, because ugh this is awful. And why does she have to stare at him like that, with her earnest, wet eyes? “You were my first. I’ve only ever fed on beasts.” 
The implication is there: how could he have known?
His confession takes her by surprise. “You don’t…” she pauses, taking everything that transpired tonight into consideration. He must be giving her a look akin to pleading, because she takes mercy on him and disregards whatever question she was about to ask. 
“Please tell me you didn’t do that to the boar.”
Seriously, a joke?
He barks out a laugh before he can stifle it. Whether it's from the sheer ridiculousness of the question or the disbelief towards her acceptance of it all, he truly doesn’t know.
“No, my dear. Just you, and you were delectable.”
Her expression is difficult to read. She’s not looking at him; refuses to, when she replies, “So then, did it work?”
Astarion moves to stand, peering down at her form. He exhales in relief, feeling as though he is a century younger. His muscles are lax; all the stress has been drained from his body. A novel experience. “Yes, I would say so. I feel stronger. My mind is clear. I feel…happy.”
He adds the last word in an effort to appease her, but it does ring true. His main source of joy since he contracted this affliction has been causing others pain, ripping out throats and such. This feels distinctly different, less exhilarating, but pleasant all the same.
“Well, I look forward to seeing you fight.” 
He acknowledges her, then stretches his back out, extending his arms to the sky with his hands clasping behind his head. The motion pulls the rest of his nightshirt out of his trousers and tugs it upward, exposing the hard edges of his hips. He can’t confirm it, but he swears he sees her eyes flit quickly towards them before making an expeditious retreat.
“Shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing.” He lifts the flap of her tent to peek outside. No sign of anyone stirring, and the night is still young. Knowing the wildlife in this area, he may still have a chance to sate himself. With his newfound strength, he may even be able to wrangle up a bear. What a feast that would make.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bows his head to her in thanks. 
He’s about to step outside, one foot exits the canvas before the rest of him, when it hits him that he feels…odd, uncomfortable leaving her like this. He can’t place his finger on why. He’s ridden atop many women and left without saying a word.
But, he supposes this is dissimilar.
Evelyn listened to him tonight, heard him out when anyone else would have carved him into pieces without second thought. She let him drink from her, forgave him for getting…carried away. 
The most shocking part of it all is that regardless of her dismissiveness, he now undeniably knows that she’s attracted to him. Yet, she didn’t capitalize on the opportunity when it arose to take advantage of his altered state; of his needs. With that, she’s shown him more kindness in the last hour than he’s experienced in his entire undead life. 
He likely owes her for this, of course, but there are worse fates he could endure.
The elf looks over his shoulder at her and catches her watching him intently, as if she wants to continue this conversation but can’t quite figure out what she wants to say. The intensity of her gaze almost forces him to turn back towards her, drawn to her by an unfamiliar ache; a thrill in his spine, the compulsion pulling at his chest like some sort of spell.
“This is a gift, you know.” The words escape him, hanging in the air between them with raw authenticity. He means to make himself sound more frivolous, but before he can edit them in his head, more truth spills from his lips, “I won’t forget it.”
His throat tightens. He considers her for a moment, wondering what he might find if he does turn to meet her eyes.
But, Astarion resists.
She must be exhausted. He shouldn’t take up any more of her time.
He leaves before she can respond. There wasn’t anything left for them to discuss, and he’s desperate to break free from the uneasy weight of her presence.
The second he steps fully outside, he feels as though he can breathe again, not that he needs to, being undead and all. 
What a strange feeling, that was. 
One he decides he’d rather forget. Best to not burden himself too much with it.
The taste of her lingers on his teeth. He finds himself savoring it for a moment too long before stalking towards the forest, confident. Ready to hunt. 
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dreamonseems · 10 months
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King Haaland Part 2
Erling Haaland X Female Reader
Summary: Reader is brought to Norway as a slave, and King Erling buys her.
If you guys have any requests for this series, let me know in the comments or send me a message!
Ok, so I'm using Google translate for the Norwegian language, so if you speak, I'm sorry if it's not the proper way of writing it, lol.
Also, I am so happy you guys have been liking this series! Thanks for all the love, guys!
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"Kom, liten en, for å sove,(come little one time to sleep)" King Haaland beckoned, hoisting me over his shoulders. Confusion and panic welled up within me, causing me to stammer out, "Wha... what?!" Seeking reassurance, I turned to Celine, desperately hoping for some clarity.
"You will be fine. King Haaland is a good man. He won't do anything to you that you don't want. You're just sleeping in the same bed, that is all," Celine assured me, offering a small, comforting smile.
As King Haaland strode down the hall, carrying me like a sack of flour, my heart raced with a mix of trepidation and a flicker of hope. He kicked open a massive wooden door adorned with intricate carvings and gently placed me on the floor as he closed it behind us.
Taking a moment to survey the room, my eyes wandered over the grandeur it held. A large bed, a wardrobe, and a trunk caught my attention, while weapons adorned the walls alongside cozy animal furs. The juxtaposition of comfort and danger left me unsettled, yet I found myself drawn to the bed, curiosity compelling me to poke at its softness.
"Fortsett å legge deg ned,(go on lay down)" he commanded, breaking my reverie. Startled, I turned to face him. "What? You do remember I do not understand, right?" I blurted out, a surprised squeak escaping my lips. Standing before me, he stood naked, his physique a testament to his strength and the intricate Viking tattoos adorning his powerful frame, are beautiful. Clearing my mind of such distracting thoughts, I quickly regained composure and focused on the immediate issue at hand.
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and I quickly covered my eyes. "Where are your clothes?" I demanded pointing at his clothes, my voice tinged with exasperation.
Confusion clouded his face as he looked down and burst into laughter. "Vi skal sove. Jeg trenger ikke klærne mine, lille,(we are going to sleep I do not need my clothes little one)" he chuckled. I felt my frustration deepen. "I still do not understand," I confessed, my brow furrowing in confusion.
He gestured, making signs for sleeping, pointing at his clothes, and then signaling "no." I deduced that he meant he didn't wear clothes to sleep. But how was I supposed to sleep with him naked?
He sat down on the bed and pulled me towards him, pointing at his hair. It was as if he was instructing me to undo his braids. Tentatively, I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself on my knees. With hesitant fingers, I began to unravel his intricate braids. As I finished, I ran my fingers through his hair, untangling any knots. A satisfied moan escaped his lips, which both surprised and unnerved me.
I swiftly withdrew my hands, realizing the intimacy of the act. In my haste, I lost my balance and began to fall, but Haaland's swift reflexes caught me, preventing my descent. I found myself perched on his lap, his deep gaze fixed upon me.
"Vær forsiktig, lille,(Be careful little one)" he whispered, his eyes holding mine with intensity. At this close proximity, I couldn't help but notice his true handsomeness. He looked young, his features softened, and it occurred to me that perhaps he wasn't much older than I.
Despite this realization, I pulled away from him, retreating under the furs and signaling my desire to sleep. He chuckled and shook his head, retreating to his side of the bed. There were no unwanted advances or intrusive touches. He simply lay down, closed his eyes, and left me to find solace in the comforting darkness.
As I nestled myself beneath the furs, a wave of relief washed over me. In this moment, it seemed that everything would be alright.
The enigmatic King Haaland respected my boundaries, and a glimmer of hope emerged, whispering that perhaps this unexpected journey held more than just fear and uncertainty.
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As the morning light illuminated the room, its soft beams dancing upon the walls, I slowly became aware of my surroundings. The weight of the previous night's events still lingered in my mind, intertwining with the present reality. King Haaland, a figure both captivating and mysterious, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence commanding attention.
The room seemed to hold its breath as our eyes met. I felt a flutter of vulnerability, unsure of how to navigate my next move. His gaze, though inscrutable, held a certain tenderness that belied his formidable stature. A blush crept across my cheeks, and I instinctively looked away, momentarily unable to meet his penetrating gaze.
"God morgen, lille,(good morning little one)," he spoke, his voice a deep and melodic rumble. The words, foreign and yet strangely comforting, hung in the air. I gathered my courage and met his gaze once more, searching for any clues to his intentions. There, amidst the enigma of his eyes, I detected a glimmer of kindness, a flicker of understanding. It was a stark contrast to the tales of Viking kings I had grown up hearing—ruthless conquerors with hearts as cold as the winter seas.
"M-Morgen,(Morning)," I stuttered, attempting to speak his language, my voice barely above a whisper. I worried about my pronunciation, fearing that my words would fail to convey my thoughts clearly. However, his slight smile reassured me, as if he understood the meaning behind my imperfect words. It was a gesture of acceptance, a gentle acknowledgment of my efforts to bridge the gap between us.
As the sun ascended higher in the sky, signifying the start of a new day, I found myself seated beside King Haaland, partaking in a morning meal. The feast before us was a display of abundance, with an array of fruits, freshly baked bread, and hearty meats. My stomach churned with a mix of hunger and apprehension, unsure of what this shared meal meant for our newfound relationship.
Haaland ate with a measured grace, his movements fluid and controlled. There was an air of discipline and strength that emanated from him, a testament to the rigorous training he undertook as a Viking king. As he finished his meal, he stood, signaling his departure to engage in his daily training regimen. With a nod to me, he left the room, his figure exuding an aura of power and determination.
Left in the company of Celine, the day unfurled before us like a tapestry waiting to be woven. Together, we embarked on a series of chores and tasks that had become our daily routine. Yet, amidst the mundane tasks, Celine took it upon herself to teach me the intricacies of the language spoken by King Haaland and his people.
Words flowed between us, both foreign and familiar. Celine patiently guided me through the pronunciations, the grammar, and the nuances of the language. With each lesson, I felt a growing connection to this new world, a sense of empowerment as I began to grasp the means of communication in this foreign land. It was as if the words themselves were bridges, spanning the divide between my old life and the one I now found myself in.
Throughout the day, we moved from one chore to another, the sound of laughter occasionally punctuating the otherwise quiet atmosphere. As I swept the floor or tended to the hearth, I absorbed every piece of information Celine imparted, eager to grasp the intricacies of this culture and its language. It was a way for me to find my footing in this unfamiliar realm, to understand the customs and traditions that governed the lives of those who called themselves Vikings.
With each passing moment, I grew more adept at stringing together coherent sentences, my tongue beginning to mimic the inflections and cadences of the language. It was a small victory, a glimmer of progress in a sea of uncertainty. And as the day gave way to evening, I found solace in the fact that, step by step, I was inching closer to understanding the world that now enveloped me.
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As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks transformed into a month, my life within the halls of Haaland's kingdom settled into a rhythm that felt strangely comforting. Each night, I would find myself in the embrace of sleep, sharing the same bed as the grand Viking king. The initial apprehension had dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity and trust.
Mornings began with the sunlight peeking through the windows, casting gentle rays upon the room. Haaland would rise from his slumber, his presence commanding, and his gaze warm. We would gather for breakfast, sharing meals that were no longer marked by tension or unease. It was during these shared moments that I realized Haaland's true nature, one that defied the expectations often associated with kings.
Throughout the day, my hours were occupied by a myriad of tasks and chores. From tending to the castle gardens to assisting in the kitchen, I immersed myself in the daily workings of the kingdom. Celine remained my steadfast companion, guiding me through the intricacies of the language spoken by the Viking people. Together, we navigated the complexities of grammar and vocabulary, piece by piece unraveling the secrets of their linguistic world.
However, it was during one of our conversations that Haaland revealed a surprising truth. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he confessed that he understood and spoke my language, albeit to a limited extent. He had learned it in secret during Celine's early days as a slave in his kingdom, he started practicing it more when I was brought here. It was a testament to his intelligence and curiosity, a demonstration of his desire to bridge the gap between us.
As the days turned into nights, Haaland proved himself to be a benevolent ruler, respectful of my boundaries and wishes. He possessed a playful spirit, often engaging in lighthearted banter and jests, effortlessly dispelling any remnants of fear or apprehension that may have lingered. It became clear that beneath the hardened exterior of a Viking king lay a compassionate and understanding soul.
Haaland's linguistic prowess extended beyond my own language. Through his interactions with merchants and travelers from distant lands, he had acquired fragments of various tongues, becoming a polyglot of sorts. This revelation only deepened my admiration for the king, highlighting his thirst for knowledge and his willingness to embrace diversity.
In this dance of languages and cultures, my world expanded. I found solace in the fact that despite our differences, Haaland and I could communicate and connect on a more profound level. The barriers that once seemed insurmountable crumbled, leaving room for understanding and companionship to flourish. Within the halls of the kingdom, I discovered not only a king but a man who defied expectations, captivating me with his intellect, his kindness, and his capacity for growth.
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Today, an unfamiliar emptiness greeted me as I awoke in the vast expanse of the bed. It was a stark contrast to the usual routine, where King Haaland would patiently await my awakening, eager to embark on our shared breakfast ritual. Uncertainty gripped my heart as I made my way through the echoing corridors towards the grand feast hall.
As I neared the hall, the clamor of raised voices pierced through the air, causing me to halt in my tracks. Haaland's commanding voice reverberated against the walls, sending shivers down my spine. My instinct was to retreat, to remain hidden and observe from the shadows. With bated breath, I peered around the corner, my eyes widening at the scene unfolding before me.
"Finn den hesten og bring ham til meg!(find that horseshit and bring him to me)" Haaland's words thundered through the hall, his frustration palpable as he directed his words towards Gunnar, Knut, Sven, and Balder—his most trusted warriors. Their determined nods indicated their compliance as they swiftly exited the hall, leaving Haaland seething in his own discontent. In an outburst of rage, he lashed out, his foot connecting with a nearby chair, shattering it into pieces.
My heart skipped a beat as I involuntarily flinched at the sound of destruction. In that moment, Haaland's piercing gaze pierced through my hiding place, his eyes locking onto mine. "Forlat meg!(leave me)," he bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall, the words stinging like a verbal blow. Feeling the weight of his anger directed towards me, I turned on my heels, fleeing from his presence.
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, my heart heavy with a mixture of confusion, hurt, and disappointment. Haaland's outburst had shattered the delicate equilibrium that had been established between us. The realization that he could unleash such fury upon me left me feeling vulnerable and betrayed. Yet, I refused to let my emotions consume me. With every ounce of strength, I willed myself to be resilient, to hold back the tears that threatened to betray my true emotions.
Steeling myself against the pain, I pressed onward, reminding myself of the strength that resided within. I refused to let this sudden shift in Haaland's demeanor define my worth. With each determined step, I vowed to remain steadfast, even in the face of uncertainty and unspoken questions that lingered in the air. I would find solace within myself and seek understanding in due time.
As I retreated to the solitude of my chambers, I allowed myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The once familiar walls now seemed to close in around me, suffocating me with their oppressive silence. I longed for the comforting presence of Celine, but she was nowhere to be found. It appeared that I was truly alone in this bewildering turn of events.
Resting my trembling hands on the edge of a table, I closed my eyes, attempting to steady my racing heartbeat. Haaland's anger had struck me deeply, leaving me questioning everything I had come to know about him. Was his previous kindness merely a facade? Or was there something more beneath the surface that I failed to comprehend?
As I battled with my inner turmoil, a soft knock on the chamber door startled me. Tentatively, I approached, hesitant to face whoever stood on the other side. Slowly opening the door, I found myself met with Celine's concerned gaze. Her presence brought a flicker of relief amidst the storm raging within me.
"Y/N, I heard what happened. Are you alright?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
I struggled to find my voice, but eventually managed to utter, "I... I don't understand. Why did he... why did he yell at me like that?"
Celine sighed, stepping into the chamber and closing the door behind her. She gently placed a hand on my shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Y/N, you must understand that Haaland's temper is as fierce as his loyalty. He carries the weight of his responsibilities heavily, and at times, it spills over onto those around him. It was not directed at you personally."
Her words provided some solace, but the ache in my heart remained. "But why did he tell me to leave? What did I do to deserve such treatment?"
Celine looked at me sympathetically, her eyes filled with empathy. "I believe Haaland's outburst was driven by frustration and an overwhelming sense of pressure. He didn't mean to hurt you, Y/N. Please remember that."
Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over the dam I had painstakingly constructed. "I just don't know how to face him now. How can I trust him after this?"
Celine's grip tightened, offering me the strength I desperately sought. "Trust takes time, Y/N. We all have our flaws and moments of weakness. Give him the chance to explain, to make amends. Remember, there was kindness in him before, and there may still be kindness within him yet."
Her words echoed within me, resonating with a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. Perhaps this was a test, a hurdle we needed to overcome to forge a deeper connection. With renewed determination, I wiped away my tears and straightened my posture.
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Later that night, the room was immersed in darkness, with only a faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through the window. My body lay tense on the bed, entangled in a web of conflicting emotions. The events of the day weighed heavily on my mind, casting a shadow of dread over the chamber.
In the midst of my restless slumber, I sensed his presence before I saw him. Haaland's figure materialized, his silhouette cast against the dimly lit room. He moved with a familiarity that was both unsettling and comforting, his steps echoing through the silence.
My eyes fluttered open, and I pretended to be asleep, hoping to gather my thoughts before confronting him. I felt the mattress yield under his weight as he settled beside me, the faint scent of Mead wafting through the air. His voice, tinged with a mix of regret and vulnerability, broke the stillness.
"Are you awake?" he inquired softly, his voice carrying a hint of apprehension. I remained silent, my heart pounding in my chest, uncertain of how to respond.
"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, his frustration evident. The warmth of his arms enveloped me, drawing me closer to him. Anxiety coursed through my veins as I wrestled with my conflicting emotions.
"I am sorry, little one. I did not mean to yell at you. Please forgive me," he implored, his lips pressing gentle kisses against my forehead. His apology hung in the air, laden with a sense of sincerity that tugged at my heartstrings.
"Why?" I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper. His admission caught me off guard, my curiosity piqued.
"I have a traitor in my ranks, selling my secrets. The frustration got the best of me," he explained, a mixture of weariness and determination coloring his words.
I let out a frustrated huff, my anger mingling with understanding. "Fine, I understand. Just... don't do it again," I conceded, my tone softening slightly. Despite my lingering annoyance, a sense of empathy welled within me, recognizing the burdens he carried as a king.
He chuckled, his laughter resonating through the darkness. "Yes, little one. I promise," he vowed, his voice laced with sincerity. A shy smile tugged at the corners of my lips, his presence somehow managing to ease the tension that enveloped us.
"Now, go to sleep. You're drunk," I teased, attempting to lighten the mood. His laughter filled the room once more, mingling with the soothing rhythm of his breath.
"Yes, you are quite fiery tonight," he jestingly remarked, yet his hold tightened around me, pulling me closer. As sleep claimed him, I found solace in the safety of his arms, an unexpected warmth radiating through my being.
That night, as slumber claimed us both, I found myself nestled in the king's arms for the first time. Unbeknownst to me, an ember of happiness ignited within my heart, signaling the possibility of a deeper connection. In the midst of uncertainty, a glimmer of hope emerged, weaving together the delicate threads of forgiveness, understanding, and the potential for a future intertwined.
Part 3
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megabuild · 5 months
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what is aoyuer? is that an acronym for something?
okay so i meant to make a big doc explaining what aoyuer is like months ago but then i started working on different projects and put it on the back burner.. and then i got ill and now i don't have much time to work on stuff at all. but not having the doc sucks and means anything i ever say about it is very confusing. so i'm so sorry anon for using your ask as an excuse to just dump as much aoyuer lore as i can without reasonably spoiling it but also thanks for reminding me that i have a lot of followers here who have never heard of it. a sobering thought
tldr; aoyuer (as of yet untitled empires rewrite) (sorry bree) is my au rewrite of empires smp that aims to connect seasons 1 and 2 as well as after life, new life, and a bunch more inbetween, with a major focus on pixlriffs' story. it also ties up a lot of loose ends and is generally darker and more adult-aimed than the original series. technically that's all you need to know but here's the no spoilers plot rundown for those interested
so aoyuer is built up of ~7 arcs but only 4 of them are like Super important
arc 0: this is just afterlife smp and a ton of early worldbuilding, the crash of the great stags, etc; what's most important from this is that oli exists and has for thousands of years, probably
arc 1: empires season 1! set in the 1500s, the world is going through a sort of renaissance period with massive technological advancements. pixlriffs the copper king (cprk) is working a boring little library job and spending most of his time kicking himself and being mad he hasn't done anything with his life (he is only like 30 but the idea of feeling old and unaccomplished even when you're young is a major theme for arc 1). enter fwhip! who is his annoying ex-roommate ex-bestie ex-boyfriend from university that left him on pretty bad terms. he has a way more accomplished job and as part of that he has been allowed to head The Empires Project which is a major journey intended to further some distant colonies while also investigating the land they're on. the land has some weiiird properties which fwhip thinks could be harnessed to create functional immortality (which was the subject of pix's thesis). he wants pix to come with him and investigate. pix feels weird about it but agrees to come along and be the "emperor" for the desert colony while he does his research... and then things get fucked up and scary! its a high fantasy that switches between a metaphorical dissection of their horrid will they won't they relationship and both of their issues aaand a more Literal dissection of the land and things living in it. including people and animals. at times. and also involves pix accidentally awakening a curse for a billion million years which sets the rest of aoyuer in motion.
arc 1.5 is sort of Not important but iwlike it a lot. there's not much to be said for it without major spoilers but it's set a little bit after arc 1 and comprises of fwhip being very upset about how his stupid project fell apart and trying to write up an Official Report on why everything fell apart while also coming to terms with him being the worst guy to ever have lived or something. much of aoyuer is like thinly veiled metaphors for mental illness but this one is just about mental illness
arc 2 sends us years forward into season 2 in the 1800s and our protagonist is professor pixelle riffs, lorekeeper (lrkp) who leaves his job as an archaeology lecturer to go and study the ancient capital and The Machiiine. because the machine set up WAY too much cool stuff to just ignore. sculk infection/possession is a big part of this arc. however while he's doing all this he meets oli! remember him? who has crash landed in S2 (basically the same way he did in canon) and is now regularly butting heads with pix. they eventually become friends and then umm something more :3 a lot of this remains the same as canon except the sculk arc gets a proper conclusion and ties into the ghost stuff. it ends with oli's finale where he still fakes his death (the goblin stuff is going to be changed but it's up in the air right now) and pix is devastated but pretty certain there's something not quite right so he picks greggory up and goes off in search of his lame ass boyfriend.
arc 2.5 actually takes place mid arc 2 because it's the hermpires crossover, which is less different dimensions and more different times (hermitcraft is our present and the rift facilitates time travel). when pixelle the archaeologist steps through the rift it causes serious time fuckery and so he sort of gets. forcefully ejected from his body and becomes a ghost possessing pixl riffs of the hermitcraft recap (rcp) who stumbles out of the rift very tired and very confused! there's a lot of fun mistaken identity stuff between him and oli and this is generally the most like. comedic and casual of the arcs though it still has some sweet moments.
arc 3 is just new life smp. where pixelle finally ends up in nl, finds that his lame ass boyfriend is still alive, and has relationship drama with him Except on top of that the land that new life is set on has similar properties to the land from arc 1 (functional immortality except it has some different effects, aka. going through drastic physical changes every time you "die") and so pixelle starts investigating that and maybe finds out that his whole life and his ancestors and descendants lives might be caught up in a time loop because of the copper king. forever and ever. this hasn't got much for it because i was going to work from new life canon as a base but then both pix and oli stopped playing on it LMFOHALDH but anyway.
aaand arc 4! final arc! which is set in the present right after pixl (the recap one) returns home from the hermitpires crossover. except the weird ghost voice of his ancestor in his head.. isn't going away? or rather its been replaced by a different one who is sending him on The Heros Journey. along with zloy and lyarrah and modern fwhip. this is basically the long awaited Conclusion to the curse that the copper king put in place and a lot of bullshit happens that icant really explain but it ties up all the loose ends and is generally just pix consistently having the worst time. hes the only pix who goes through hell without bringing it upon himself like he was just born.
and um. that's aoyuer! obviously there's more for all the arcs and i am happy to answer Basically any questions even though i get a little nervous sharing stuff about it because im shy. But iwhope thag explains at least a bit for everyone. My dream is to write this all into various fanfics but that looks kinda unlikely rn but it means a lot to me and you can kinda safely assume if I'm ever talking about or drawing empires there's a 99% chance it's actually aoyuer because I forget canon exists .AOYUER WORLDWIDE
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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year
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Pink Scarf - PART 15 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)
Requested: kinda
(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)
Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years.  [ Fem!Reader ]
TW: Mentions of Blood/Miscarriage/Medical trauma. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.  
Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)        ||     Word Count: 5.2k
A/N: The ANGST is real, y'all, and I'm not letting you off the hook after Part 14, sorry! This one was a beast to get out of my brain and the block was real for so many reasons, but we made it! It's here! Just so y'all know, this part is very much a bridge to all the crazy stuff that is to come. Reader is going through it and taking all of us with her. And I promise that more smut is coming (if you are only here for that, you horny animals! LOL). Please make sure you read the trigger warnings for this part because there are some sensitive topics that carry over from Part 14!
Thank you for being so patient while I got this out. Unexpected life crap/emotions/writer's block killed me on this one, and I SO appreciate you hanging in there with me! I rewrote the beginning of this part no less than four times, and FINALLY it clicked so here we are! Hooray! Thanks for helping me get through this!
As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋
If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!
I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat! 
Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch. 
(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)
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No!
The scream catches in your throat as you wake with a start, clutching your belly in a panic, your heart pounding against your ribcage so hard you feel like it is attempting to flee your chest. It takes a moment to figure out where you are. The night is warm and the sky is vast, and you are so far up you feel like you’re still dreaming.
“Baby, are you okay?” Elvis sits up straight in his lounge chair and turns to you. You can see, or better sense, the concern in his eyes, even in the darkness. This sends a shiver of recognition down your spine as your dream (or is it a memory?) flashes back to you in fragments. His eyes are older now, but the look remains the same, feels the same. 
“I..I..I…” you stutter, shaking your head, unable to be coherent. No, you are not okay. Looking down, you half expect to see blood pooling between your legs, but thankfully there is none. You feel stuck in the haze between reality and dreams, or reality and what you are afraid might actually be the past.
You feel like screaming, but the impulse sticks in your throat, strangling you.
There was a reason, you think, that you never remembered that horrible night from nearly a decade ago. That you’d only been able to piece together snippets of what really happened from vague accounts of the people you’d been with that night. Elvis, in particular, had been purposefully scarce on details.
And you had been fine with that, truly not wanting to relive your trauma in any way, shape, or form. You’d even been grateful when the doctor told you it was normal for your mind to protect you from your near-death experience, that you might never remember the details of that night, and you determined the memory loss a blessing.
When you’d woken in the sterile hospital, drugged and dazed, the doctor told you’d had an ectopic pregnancy, that the baby—no, the “fertilized egg,” he’d said—had gotten stuck in your fallopian tube instead of your uterus. Unfortunately, your fallopian tube ruptured as the baby grew, and you had massive hemorrhaging, nearly dying in that skating rink. They were able to do surgery and stop the bleeding, but the baby was gone, and you were told it never would have come to term.
It was the worst thing that had ever happened to you. The grief and heartache, the disappointment, the feeling like an utter failure that your body had betrayed you in such a way. No, you were fine not remembering the details. You’d wanted to forget all about it. It didn’t matter to you that the specifics weren’t there, that not everyone’s stories lined up or made complete sense. You just wanted to push it all away.
But now…this dream felt so incredibly real, at least the parts that you remembered. As dreams do, it begins to fade, leaving only a few missing puzzle pieces that start to slot into place. Desperately, you try to wipe it all away again, but it’s too late. You are trying to convince yourself it had to be a dream, that the flashes you are remembering (or more so feeling), couldn’t have possibly happened that way. Except many of the parts you do remember are true and really happened: Elvis’ coming home, how you’d been so inexplicably enamored with him, and how he'd been so concerned he’d done something to hurt you—all of that was real.
But the night of the Rollerdome is where things get choppy. Those parts of the dream are still but snippets and feelings, overwhelming ones at that, and you have no memories to compare them to. Could it be that you lost the baby and almost died in Elvis’ arms after he’d come to your rescue when…when…something else happened? You can’t grasp why he’d needed to come to your rescue or what led up to being in his arms on the floor—it all slips through your fingers like water through a sieve.
God, but the pain you are remembering right now…it is all so much worse than you’d imagined.
It’s like you can sense it happening all over again rather than simply remembering, your belly cramping and lightheadedness threatening your vision. The frantic panic of fearing the worst pours through your veins now almost as it did then. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe.
Then there was Elvis, pulling you into his lap; you can feel the terror he tried so unsuccessfully to hide, how obvious it was in the shaking stutter of his voice as he was doused in your blood. Then, it fades again, leaving you with the distinct feeling that something important (other than losing the baby) happened on the floor of that roller rink, but it disappears into the ether before you can lock on to it.
“…Oh, God, don’t—”
All of it is too much, all at once.
You are barely conscious of the tears pouring down your cheeks, and you awkwardly stagger up from the lounge chair you’d fallen asleep on while traveling to the moon and the stars. Just you and me and the moon and the stars…You feel dizzy from getting up too fast, from the physical memory of it all and you sway, but your body overrides it with the need to flee, as if you can outrun the past.
“Hey, hey, hey! Honey, what’s happenin’? What’s wrong?” Elvis asks, confused, leaping up, grabbing your shoulders.
You tear yourself from his grasp, staggering for the door that will lead you off the roof and hopefully out of this hell your mind has sought to drag you into. Nothing makes sense. You feel trapped in a daze of psychic and physical pain, none of which is helpful or wanted. All the peace from your moment with the moon and the stars has evaporated in an instant. You reach the door and yank it open.
“Y/n, stop! Wait just a damn minute!” he says firmly, pulling you back to him, his cold rings digging into your forearm like chains.
“Elvis, let me go! You have to let me go!” you shout, trying to break free, but his hold on you is fierce. “Oh, god, I can’t do this,” you gasp, barely able to look at him.
You know you are being unfair to him in your reaction, but you feel betrayed. Betrayed by your body, betrayed by your mind, and betrayed by him, all at once. All logic is lost.
“Can’t do what, honey? I don’t understand what you’re goin’ on about,” Elvis asks in confusion, and you can tell by the roughness in his tone that he is frustrated but is trying to be patient with you. You don’t blame him. You must seem out of your mind, having a breakdown every other minute you are with him.
A deep part of you feels absolutely mortified at the entire situation. You’d had no idea that it was Elvis who’d found you and that something so horribly personal and tragic, your worst failure, was laid out before him so vulnerably. And to think he never mentioned it again makes you both grateful and angry. How could an experience like that be brushed under the rug, like nothing ever happened?
Suddenly all the beautiful bouquets of flowers he sent from afar in those weeks after it happened start to make a bit more sense, as does the distance that started to grow between you two. You had originally blamed it solely on him having to leave right away for Florida (he hadn’t even been there when I’d woken up in the hospital), then it was all the recording he’d needed to get done, and then just like that, he was out in Hollywood filming again. And when he was home after that, you remembered, he did not seek you out to spend any one-on-one time together. Now you wonder if he’d been purposefully avoiding you, and that makes you feel both offended and embarrassed.
You close your eyes, willing yourself to breathe somehow while still feeling like the world is closing in on you. The way your heart beats so quickly drives you to escape, but Elvis’ grip is like a vise, anchoring you to the spot. Everything hurts—a long-buried grief radiating through you like a tidal wave that has been held back far too long. Its icy flood consumes you, tightening your chest, and the healed scar on your belly feels like it’s being ripped open.
Finally, you say with shaking breaths, “I had a terrible nightmare. Or…or a memory, I’m not quite sure which…It felt—feels—so real, like it’s happening all over again.”
“What? What’s happening all over again?” Elvis asks with concern in his azure eyes.
“The baby. The night I lost the baby…god, there was so much blood. It was awful,” you choke out. “Were you really there? Was it you who found me, who held onto me?” you ask frantically, looking up at him for answers, for confirmation.
If you weren’t so consumed by the overpowering feelings rolling over you, you might catch the fleeting panic that flashes across his face before that unreadable mask he’s so carefully crafted over the years takes its place.
“What do you remember?” he asks evenly, calmly.
“Well, I…it’s all jumbled, flashes really. Being at the rink. Then suddenly blinding, horrible pain,” you grimace, arms wrapping around your abdomen, “and then I’m in your arms, bleeding everywhere, and everything gets distant and cold and numb and terrifying. And then it all fades away,” you whisper, looking at him for any sign of the truth of it.
You almost think you see relief in his eyes (why?), but it’s only for a second and then is gone. “That’s what you remember?”
You nod.
He continues, “Yeah, it was like that. I found you, baby. I held you until help got there. It was…awful,” he shudders, those almond eyes of his clouding, the memory obviously affecting him in some way.
“I…almost died,” you breathe. Of course, you logically already knew this to be true, but that was before you remembered how it felt.
“Yes, you did,” Elvis replies solemnly, his eyes churning with emotion, bringing his thumb to your cheek to wipe away the tears you have forgotten are falling.
“It hurts. Here. Now. I don’t know why,” you whisper. Though the pain has ebbed some, it still is intense, overwhelming. Perhaps it is because something about it still feels unfinished and hidden from you, like you are still missing some integral piece. You look at him as though he can give you the relief you so desperately seek, and you can’t help but feel that he is keeping something from you based on the look in his eyes.
“I don’t know either, but you’re safe now,” Elvis says, pulling you into him. He thinks he is good at shielding his emotions from you, and maybe he used to be, but now, after everything that has happened this past week, you can sense the turmoil beneath the softness of his pretty features. It sets you on edge. Enough secrets have been kept from you at this point in your life to recognize the signs, even if only intuitively.
Standing there on the roof, he rocks you gently, and the burning pain in your abdomen begins to subside, but is quickly replaced by unease, a rock of it forming in the pit of your stomach. Something is amiss and you can’t put your finger on it, but it has something to do with that terrible night. And with Elvis.
You watch him carefully as he leads you to the stairs, gingerly, like you might shatter into a million pieces. While you indeed felt that way only moments ago, worry and curiosity wind their way through your mind as you grasp at pieces of quickly-fading memories, searching for something, anything, that supports this intuitive feeling in your gut. You do not find it.
However, as you come back into his darkened suite, you are reminded of the fact that you should not be here, that your husband must be wondering where you got off to. It is nearly dawn, and you aren’t in your room.
And, oh dear lord, all the yelling and the noise that you and Elvis made earlier must have been overheard. Suddenly you are nauseous.
“Elvis,” you say, clasping his forearm in a panic.
“What, baby?” he looks at you, confused, concerned.
“We made a lot of noise earlier…”
A slow, wide grin spreads over his face, but that almost predatory darkness from before lingers in his eyes. “Oh, honey, I sent everyone away after that little stunt of yours in the bathroom with Jack,” he laughs, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He still isn’t happy about that.
Relief washes over you at the fact that your escapades remained private, although, you don’t know exactly who “everyone” is because his Mafia members were never too far from their master.
The unease is back, snaking through your mind. “I have to get back,” you say, “Jack must be wondering where I am.”
“He’s likely in the casino, and you, my dear, went back to Sandy’s room and fell asleep there.” The lie falls off his tongue so easily, and while you are grateful for the excuse, this ability of his gives you pause as you find the remnants of your clothes strewn about the room.
Everything feels off. It’s as though your dream-memory has exposed something, but you cannot put your finger on what, only that something about Elvis is itching at you.
Something important.
Your mind and your insides are still reeling from everything this night has entailed and uncovered. You shakily dress and try to clean yourself up before having to face the world outside of Elvis’ private suite. Between the wildly intense sex and the jarring memories your sleep unlocked, you are exhausted and wonder how you can possibly process any of this and still present “things as usual” to the rest of the world.
Finally ready to head out the door, Elvis stops you. “Wait,” he says, spinning you back to him and pulling you close. His luscious lips brush yours so sweetly, with such yearning, as if he hasn’t had you in nearly every way already tonight. You melt into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms, the warmth of him solid and comforting. You forget all your doubts and questions for the moment, unable to focus on anything but the pillowy softness of his gentle kisses and the way his strong hands cup your jaw and pull you to him. The man has you fully under his spell, and right now, as his tongue laps at yours, you do not care about anything else.   
When he pulls back, you whine at the loss of him, and being him, he senses your need, and gives you a cheeky smirk.
“Later, darlin’, I promise,” he says, brushing your cheek. “I want you backstage again tonight, okay?” It’s less of a question and more a gentle command.
You nod, getting lost in those endless blues of his. Then you shake yourself off and head out the door, shutting it quietly behind you in your best effort to sneak out, your mind beginning to whirl again the moment you are out of his presence.
Lost in a fog of thoughts, your focus is on the ground, so when you collide with another body in the hallway, you nearly jump out of your skin, flying backwards and catching yourself before you tumble to the ground.
“Well, shit,” a familiar voice intones slowly and with surprise as you look up.
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Red.
Your eyes go wide as saucers as your brain tries to scramble up an excuse of why you’d be coming out of Elvis’ suite at this hour looking as you do, and you quickly realize that there is no other plausible explanation. Your mouth opens then closes aimlessly. And the smirk on Red’s face makes it quite clear that he understands the situation fully.
Your heart thunders in your ribcage as you stand frozen like a dear in headlights. This is very, very bad. Jerry is one thing—you have no doubts of his loyalty to Elvis and keeping his secrets. But Red, he is quite a different situation. He is loyal to Elvis, to be sure, but for a price. And he is friends with Jack and has been since the beginning. You had never taken to Red—something about him always irked you, but it was never truly an issue before this moment.
“Y/n, y/n, y/n,” Red tsks at you, a nasty gleam in his eye, “Now what kind’a trouble you been gettin’ up to?” It’s obvious he knows exactly what kind.
You finally find your voice. “Red,” you say in what you hope is a warning but considerate tone, “I’m sure we can both just forget this ever happened. We wouldn’t want to upset anyone.” There’s no need to say their names, you both know who you mean. But your voice is too shaky and even you can’t take yourself seriously.
“Hmm, maybe,” Red ponders infuriatingly. You want to wipe that smug look right off his face.
You both stand there staring for a minute before you finally straighten yourself. You desperately want to turn and go back to Elvis to plead with him to drop Red off somewhere in the middle of the desert, but you know E needs his rest and this conversation can’t happen now. So instead, you square your shoulders, dread pooling in your stomach.
“Excuse me, I have to be going,” you say a little haughtily.
Red just laughs, “I bet you do, sweetheart.”
The endearment is anything but, coming out snide instead. A cold shiver runs down your spine. Finally, you break the tension and push past him, trying to keep your gait steady and unhurried, when all you want to do is to sprint to the door. But you make it without doing so, holding your breath the whole way. Once in the hall, you pound the elevator button multiple times as if that will make a difference in how fast it arrives. Then you feel like you can breathe again, once tucked safely and blissfully alone inside the car, heading down.
You don’t trust Red. Not one bit.
Panic rises up from your stomach, an acidic, bitter bile. This is exactly what you’ve been afraid of. You can feel the rickety foundation of your lies begin to sway under your feet. Not only are you feeling unmoored because of whatever your dream-memory unlocked about Elvis that you can’t pinpoint, but this hits you where it hurts. You reap what you sow, and you have been sowing quite a bit.
All the doubt that Elvis washed away with his gentle kisses mere minutes ago comes back to hit you full force. You must end this, you’ve got to, and you know, oh god, you know it will break your heart, but you cannot live anymore with this fear that is eating you from the inside out.
You were never meant to be this person. You are not special, certainly not special enough to warrant true love from Elvis Presley. You are just a housewife from Tennessee whose husband is a liar and a cheat. You were bored and now you’re in over your head.
Get out. Run, as far away and as fast as you can! your mind screams at you. God, you can’t breathe. For the second time today, you feel as though the air has been stolen from your lungs and like the ground is crumbling underneath your feet.
You are not strong enough for this. You were not made for lying and cheating and sneaking around. The weight of it all feels untenable as you knock on Sandy’s door.
When it opens, she doesn’t even say a word. One look at you and she’s yanking you inside.
“Red knows,” you eek out before she has a chance to say anything.
“Shit,” she curses and brings you to sit down on the bed. Then she steals away, and you hear water running.
You don’t realize you are shaking until she hands you the glass of water and it nearly spills all over your dress. You gulp it down, suddenly parched.
“What the hell happened last night?” she finally asks, after you’ve downed the glass of water and manage to take in some slow breaths. “You disappeared with Jack,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose, “and then Elvis looked like he was gonna lose his damn mind and kicked everyone out, but you were nowhere to be found. Then, Jerry called and told me that if anyone asked, you were with me all night.”
Setting the empty glass on the side table, you put your head in your hands. “Oh, Sandy, I feel like every decision I am making is insane. I don’t even recognize myself.”
Sandy just looks at you with expectation in her eyes, waiting for you to explain yourself.
“Elvis and I had quite an…argument about me being with Jack. And then we had crazy, hot sex, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before,” you sigh and Sandy grins like an idiot. “Then he took me up on the roof to look at the moon, and I fell asleep and had this horrible—well, it was a nightmare, but I think it was actually a memory I repressed. Oh, it was awful.”
Sandy looks at you quizzically. “A repressed memory? What do you mean?”
“Well, you know I can’t have kids…but way back in ’60, I had an ectopic pregnancy that resulted in me miscarrying and almost bleeding to death on the floor of the Rollerdome,” you ramble out, the water you just drank making you feel sick to your stomach.
“Oh my god, hon, that’s terrible,” she says pulling you in for a hug.
“Obviously, there are reasons I don’t talk about it, but also, I didn’t remember any of it. The doc said my brain did it to protect me from the trauma. Until this morning, I didn’t have any idea of what really happened. But now…I had these flashes, these glimpses, of the horrible pain. It was like living it all over again. Like I could feel it happening, San,” you say, clutching your stomach. “And what I didn’t realize was that Elvis was there for all of it. He was holding me and watching me die. There was blood everywhere.”
“Jesus,” Sandy breathes.
“And he never told me that he was there! How could we go through something like that together and him not say a damn word? And I swear something else happened, something he’s not telling me. I just feel like he’s hiding something about it, something I still can quite put my finger on,” you add rapidly.
“Well, honey, maybe it was traumatic for him, too. And I’m sure he didn’t want to make you relive all that,” Sandy says reasonably, patting your knee.
“That makes logical sense, San, I know it does, but it’s not just that, I’m telling you…I’ve been having these dreams, these memories, come up since being with him, things I am just now remembering. I don’t know,” you shake your head, frustrated. “It’s like a puzzle that is missing pieces and I just can’t quite put it all together.”
“How can I help, hon?” Sandy asks, her eyes comforting and kind.
“You’re doing it, babe, by just listening,” you say, squeezing her hand. “So, when I woke up from the dream, E seemed closed off about what I was telling him. I mean, he confirmed he was there, and that he’d held me, but I could just tell he wasn’t letting me in on everything. I feel like I’m noticing just how well and how easily he seems to bend the truth to suit his needs, and now I’m doing it, too,” you say, ashamed.
“And how does Red fit into all this?” she asks, eyes narrowed.
“Oh, god, yeah. I literally ran into him coming out of Elvis’ room. You should have seen the smug look on his face, San. I am so fucking screwed,” you sigh, flinging yourself back on the bed.
“Just tell Elvis! He won’t let Red get away with anything,” Sandy points out.
“I won’t see him until tonight, and by then, everyone might already know!” You look at Sandy frantically, pleadingly. “I feel crazy, and I hate all these stupid emotions! Jesus, who even am I anymore? Am I this woman who lies and cheats and hides things, not just from everyone, but from herself, too?”
Sandy looks at you, pausing as she seems to gather her thoughts. “Have you thought that maybe, just maybe, you are finally breaking free of everything that’s been holding you back? That you are just scared of all of this because it’s new and different and a risk? Before this last week, when was the last time you even took a risk, y/n? When was the last time you actually allowed yourself to really feel anything? Hon, you’ve spent so much time pushing down everything that you are and could be because of Jack and what you think you have to be for him. Maybe all this is just you becoming…you. Making decisions for yourself, ones that make you happy,” Sandy says with the love only she could give you.
You choke back a sob, “But who I am is an awful person, Sandy. I can’t seem to do anything right. I’m a liar and a cheat, which is everything I hate about Jack. I’m stuck in this dysfunctional marriage that I’m dependent on, and I was the reason we couldn’t build the big family we both wanted. I’m in love with someone I have no business being in love with, a man who is so utterly beyond my reach, who could never love me the way I need him to. I…God, I can’t even trust my memories!” Your utter heartbreak at everything aches through your chest, a painful reminder of everything you lack. Shaking with tears, you curl into a ball.
“Oh, hon,” Sandy says gently. She grabs your shoulders and hauls you up. “Look at me.”
You force yourself to meet her gaze, tears leaking from your eyes.
“You have to stop beating yourself up, baby. You’re not perfect, none of us are, but you are certainly not an awful person, not one little bit. You are full of love and kindness and talent, and you’ve put yourself last for so damn long that putting yourself first feels wrong to you,” she says so matter-of-factly that you have no choice but to listen.
“But I’ve made such a mess of things,” you whimper.
“Yeah, well, Jack pushed you to it, hon. And Elvis, well, he’s Elvis, and resisting that man takes a fortitude of will that not many women possess. What I’m saying is, this is not all on you.”
But you still feel like a powder keg about to explode, all your anguish and self-doubt clawing its way out of you, ripping you to shreds along the way.
“No, no, no. I have to…I have to end this,” you shake your head, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore. It feels like hell.”
Sandy purses her lips and gives you a look. “Did you even listen to a word I just said, hon? Let me make it clearer for you: You love Elvis. You don’t love Jack, not anymore. Leave the fucker and go be with the man you love, guilt free! Jack’s a big boy, he’ll survive.”
She makes it sound so easy, but it is anything but, at least to you, and you’re the one living it. “I can’t, Sandy, I can’t just do that! I’m dependent on Jack, who is dependent on Elvis. Without either of them, I have nothing. No job, no money, nothing. So tell me what happens when E gets tired of me, huh? Then I will literally be out on the street, Sandy!” you yell.
“God, you are just determined to be miserable, aren’t you? So determined that you are blind to the obvious!” Sandy shakes her head in frustration, then takes a deep, calming breath before lowering her voice to continue, “I can’t make you feel that you are enough—only you can do that, hon. But you are. You are enough for me, and certainly enough for Elvis.”
“You don’t know that, Sandy! Besides, Elvis is keeping shit from me, too! And I haven’t been enough for Jack for a long time!” you holler.
“Fuck Jack, y/n! Fuck him! He’s not worthy of you, not the other way around. You have to start to see that, hon!” she yells back, her cheeks reddening.
“None of that changes the situation! Red knows, and you and I both know he’s gonna make trouble, and it’s gonna all blow back on me. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in all of it, my marriage, this affair, the lies, this fucking insane world of Elvis’! I can’t…Fuck this shit,” you say, standing up, every nerve in your body flying on a horrible roller coaster than you can’t seem to get off of.
The only solution you can see is to remove yourself from the equation.
“I’m gonna say goodbye to Elvis, to Vegas, to all of it. I’m leaving on the first plane out of here tonight,” you say with finality, standing up. It makes you feel like you finally have some semblance of control over your life.
“Y/n. I don’t think this is the solution you think it is, hon—” Sandy starts.
“Look, I appreciate everything you are trying to do here, but I’m the one living this, not you, and it feels like hell right now. I need out. I’m going home,” you say harshly, swiping the tears off your face. It’s like you are pulling a steel door over all the turmoil you’ve been feeling, shutting out the pain so you can do what you should have done days ago.
You don’t want to relive the trauma of your miscarriage or remember all these fleeting and confusing moments with Elvis anymore. You don’t want to think about what Elvis is hiding from you, because you just know it’s something important and you can’t take another man you love lying to you. You don’t want to see Jack. You don’t want to completely upend everything you’ve known for the last fourteen years. You don’t want to be in love with a man who could never truly love you back the way you need him to. Because they never do.
And your heart aches in every way—for the baby you never met, for the man you used to love, and for the man you love now—it all radiates through you like poison, threatening to cripple you. You can’t stay like this. Anything to escape these horrible feelings, this seemingly unending wave of fear and uncertainty.
Sandy looks at you resigned and disapprovingly, shaking her head. “Fine. You do what you gotta do. But running away ain’t gonna solve anything.”
The hell it won’t.
*
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taikk0 · 1 year
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im crying ive been lurking your blog today after being curious enough to check your tumblr after constant watching of your videos on youtube and always thought how professional and clean your animations look and thought you were like oh idk 20+
then i stumble a post of you saying you're 15 and i 😭 💗 WHAT DO YOU USE TO ANIMATE PLEASE ANY TIPS FOR LIL OL 19 YR OLD THATS CURRENTLY NOT GOING TO COLLEGE BECAUSE OF WORK AND WANTING TO PRACTICE MY CRAFT BEFORE GOING AT IT *kneels and slowly merges with floor like melted plastic*
THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE I'VE MET WHO THOUGHT I WAS 20 IS SO FUNNY IM SORRY IM FR JUST BLENDING IN WITH ALL THESE TAX-PAYING CITIZENS LIKE IM OUT HERE IN A BUSINESS SUIT GOING "HOW DO YOU DO FELLOW ADULTS" AT THIS POINT
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but fr tho I'm flattered I can't believe someone would assume I'm at that level already 5 years in advance thank you 😭😭
as for what I use to animate I use Krita!! here is a tutorial I used to learn how to set it up + how Krita's animation feature worked:
youtube
Though this tutorial covers a lot of useful information and an animation tutorial, I do urge you to learn about the software itself in your own time. (VERY IMPORTANT TIP: if you don't understand how something works, or if you want to do something in the program but have no idea how regarding the tools it has to offer, it doesn't hurt to do your own research! I learned that the hard way unfortunately, and I hope other artists don't suffer the same fate. REMEMBER! DON'T BE AFRAID TO GOOGLE!)
and with animation tips I do have a few things I'd be happy to share
I made this playlist to help my boyfriend get into animation. What's special about this playlist is that I made it not just about how to make individual drawings move, but also videos that explain how and why individual design philosophies and decisions are made and how you can learn to use them to your advantage. I also added some videos in here that cover shot composition and storyboarding, since I figured that most animators strive for skill in more than one field. This playlist is still a work in progress and I'm obviously bound to add more in the future, but just know that most of the videos put on here are either videos that I think are REALLY helpful as an animator who wishes they had that kind of help in their beginner years, or videos that DID help me in my beginner years way back when.
The playlist is a bit short but quality over quantity amirite? Next up is a playlist that helped spark my love for animation and pushed me to pursue it myself: the Skribble Kibble series!
Not everything in this playlist is an animation tutorial, but I highly recommend it for someone with an untrained eye. This series has inspired me not only because it covered animation; a medium that I was already interested in, but also awakened my love for analysis when it came to visual mediums. what it does great, what it does poorly, what makes something unique, and what makes something the way that it is, and explaining WHY.
Animation Tip : Learn to observe! not just in life, but in other animated media as well. ask yourself questions, and break things down. try it out yourself and experiment! heck, go frame by frame if you have to! learn to learn!
which brings me to my next source: FramebyFrame
This account has been AMAZING. It's informative and presents visual guides. It's a great place to start when you want to train yourself to analyze animation in the moment. I always think of it as some sort of game, They always play the animation first before they show the breakdown, try to spot as many cool animation tricks as you can, and see how many are mentioned! They also recently did a breakdown on RotTMNT which I find to be super neat :]
Mikyomix's Personal Animator Tips (Great or Unhelpful? You Decide!):
wanted to make this it's own section because I had no idea how to properly fit this all in so it goes in here
Study first! I know this sounds super lame but I promise you it will save you so much suffering. It's better to already have a grasp on animation and its fundamentals before you actually start animating. I've gone into the pitfall of having really crap animation skills, feeling bad over it not looking right, going into a pit spiral of self-doubt, while simultaneously not putting in the effort to learn why it didn't look right and how to fix it. It took me a good while to sit down and actually learn everything before I officially started and had more confidence in myself to fix my mistakes and learn from past projects. I already mentioned it earlier, but again, don't be afraid to take notes and whatever information you find to be useful!
Pick your animated projects wisely! Listen, I know it's tempting to do that music video you always dreamed about with your not-so-simply-designed OC. But personally, I advise steering away from large-scale projects and animations that require more than your current skill level if you're a beginner. I know it sounds harsh, and I'm not telling you to give up on your dreams or anything, but just know that animations like that might be more than you bargained for, and could result in burnout and a final product you might not be proud of. You could easily tire yourself out if you're a beginner learning as you go, and I understand that many people actually advise it for the learning experience, but in my personal experience, it didn't really end well. LOTS of unfinished projects, time sunken in on something that I no longer wanted to finish, bad memories associated with the project, etc. Of course, everyone is different and you might not experience the same things I did, but just be aware of the cons. Instead, I highly recommend you-
-Design and create at your own personal convenience! If you're a beginner, I advise you to go simple. I know not everyone is interested in the bouncing ball or the flour sack, but there's no rulebook that says you're prohibited from designing a simple character to animate! Not everyone starts out the same way, and that's completely valid, I first started animating my furry OC's and I'm sure other young animators started in a similar way, animating the things they want! though there was one thing that I did keep in mind, and that was I designed my OC's to be easy to draw over and over again. easier for me to animate, and easier for me to draw them consistently. So if you're first starting out, don't be afraid to simplify! remove minute details if you have to. You can figure it out later no pressure! Just animate things because you want to, not because you have to. and that includes the tiny details that would be difficult to keep track of as a beginner. This is a bit of a smaller point that didn't need its own thing, but while you're at it, learn effective character design! not just for aesthetics and narrative purpose, but also for functionality.
Remember that you are not obligated to practice the old-fashioned way! Not everyone finds animation exercises fun, and that's okay. But whatever you choose to do, putting everything you learned into practice, IT STILL COUNTS AS PRACTICE. Every little animation you make counts no matter how short or unfinished it is, and your efforts deserve to be praised. why? because you're learning little by little and it is still very valuable! despite how small and minute or large and noticeable the improvement in animation quality is, you're still making strides in learning to be a better animator than you were before. Don't listen to what those old geezers say, you do you! animation is supposed to be a labor of love and passion. and being forced to do something under the obligation that its "industry standard" is frankly, baloney.
Animation Stuff (THE JUICE.): shorter stuff that also deserves their own section
12 FPS is great for beginners
Ease-in's and ease-out's are your BEST FRIEND
Timing Charts. you might not be inclined to write them properly, but it's useful if you're jotting things down. use them.
PLEASE. LOCK YOUR LAYERS WITH FINISHED ANIMATION WHEN YOU DON'T INTEND ON TOUCHING THEM FOR A WHILE AND YOU'RE WORKING ON A SEPARATE THING ON THE SAME PROJECT. I'VE LOST. SO MUCH...
Don't be afraid to mix tweeting with frame-by-frame. Sleepykinq tweening isn't the only form of tweening + tweening is great if you want to keep something consistent. Though if you want to go frame-by-frame with the convenience of tweening but without the visual integrity of tweening, tween on one layer as a guide and animate on top, so it's still frame-by-frame.
Unlimited layers? use them. Is a certain part of rough inbetweening giving you trouble? make another layer and animate it on there if you don't want to mess with the main roughs, then merge it down.
More frames does not equal smoother animation, it risks making it look slower. work with the FPS, not against it
Name your layers. save the tears.
Anyways, PHEW that was long. Sorry about that, I just have a lot to say about animation. I'm not NEARLY qualified enough to actually teach animation, nor am I linguistically intelligent enough to get the points I want across (I think). But I really hope that you and a few other people found this to be helpful.
I wish you the best of luck ^^
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traincat · 2 months
Note
ive never played the games so i dont know what to picture when im reading your fics, how tall do you think soren and ike are?
I said recently that they have a Mulder and Scully level height difference and I stand by that statement. This one is a little hard to answer, because I don't think there is a definitive answer -- it's not like comics where there's an official handbook with heights and weights listed, although there is like, a vague equivalent. I'll get to that. I know recently some people deduced heights by, I think, converting the measurements of their respective models in Fire Emblem Engage, the anniversary game for the series that featured both characters, but I'll be honest, that's too much math for me, and I'd rather rip into the text of the original games until I come up with my own answer. So I'm gonna give you my thoughts, and the canon evidence that backs them up, but it's just my opinion.
Anyway I'm going into this with the same amount of thought that I go into with all my comics meta. I'm sorry about that in advance.
So two things about Fire Emblem 9 and 10. The first is that the games aren't new -- FE9 came out in 2005, and FE10 in 2007. Graphically, they hold up well, but it's because they're not very complicated. The majority of conversations take place involving still portraits with text underneath -- there's only a few fully animated cutscenes. (Soren is in exactly one FE10 cutscene, and they're not standing next to each other.) The second is that the games take place over a period of a few years (each game takes place over about a year, with a three year gap in between FE9 and FE10). Ike starts FE9 at 17, and he's about 20 at the start of FE10. And he evolves like a Pokemon.
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This is not meant to be to height scale; I just wanted these three pieces of official art next to each other for comparison. Graphic design is not my passion.
Also, this has nothing to do with height, but I'm going to point it out anyway: Ike's FE10 artbook page literally ends by talking about how he's in love with Soren.
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(credit to Kantopia for the translation.) (did I mention that, by FE rules, the ship is canon. because it's canon.) The character designer, Kita Senri, also drew this picture of FE9 and FE10 Ike standing back to back, which. Yeah. Okay!
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By FE10, at least, so by age 20, Ike is tall. (His parents come from the Tall People Country, Daein.) His size is remarked upon a couple of times in the script, too, by people who hadn't seen him for a few years:
Ike: Tormod, it's been a while. Tormod: Holy moly! You are absolutely huge! I feel puny next to you… Ike: That's because you are puny. Magic clearly doesn't give you much muscle tone. (...) Tormod: Nah, you just can't see me properly because all of your blood gets pumped to your muscles, away from your brain! [leaves] Ike: A little touchy, Tormod?
(FE10, Part 4 Chapter 4)
Volke: You’ve grown quite a bit since the last time I saw you. Ike: Everyone loves telling me that. Volke: You’re starting to look like Greil. Ike: That might be true, too. He IS my dad.
(FE10, Part 4 Endgame-1) It should be noted that Ike's dad, Greil, was pretty huge.
Engage also has it remarked upon, with one character saying that Emblems (essentially FE main character force ghosts in-game) are big, and Ike remarking that that's not an Emblem thing, he's just huge. (He's the funniest Fire Emblem main character except for his co-star, Micaiah, Little Miss War Crimes, and I'm barely even biased at all.)
There are in-game stats for height and weight (build/constitution and weight, respectively), as they relate to mechanics -- if one character is significantly bigger and heavier than the other, the smaller character can't rescue them or shove them. Weight varies because, for example, if a character is on a horse, the horse factors into the weight, or if they're wearing heavy armor, etc. Build, for me, is the best indicator of general (not exact) height. In FE9, Ike's build and weight start off at 9, which is pretty average, and then 10/11 upon class promotion. In FE10, his build is 12 and weight is 13, which is on the bigger side -- I'd say compared to other human men in the game, but there are a lot of big guys in this game. Again, he's twenty, so he's probably still growing, and everyone is already remarking that he's huge. I'm almost always gonna go with what the text says, and the text in FE10 says he's huge, pretty unequivocally.
Soren... is not huge. Soren is, debatably, pretty tiny.
If we're going to use build/weight as a metric, and I think for these purposes we have to, then Soren is a 6 build and 6 weight to Ike's 12 build and 13 weight. So half Ike's size. Either way, 6 build and 6 weight is small -- the only people who are smaller than him are a handful of the female characters, including the one with literal bird bones. How much this reflects on his actual height is up for debate -- I think when that FE Engage height math was done, it was determined that, based on his model there, he was probably 5'10", which is obviously not that short, but if that's the case he's probably very thin to account for that weight stat. His father and his eldest uncle, if not also his mother, are very tall, so there is that to factor in. Soren is half-dragon and he ages slower than an average human, so there's potential for him to end up quite tall -- but it could take twenty, thirty years. (Soren is 19 in FE9 and 22 in FE10.) It's kind of a big shrug in his case. I don't think he's particularly tall, but I think it's more up for personal interpretation how tall he is, as opposed to Ike where the text is repeatedly shouting "HE'S HUGE!!!" at you. He is, pretty clearly, quite a bit smaller than Ike.
I'm going to wrap up this insane person analysis with this pretty art of Soren which does nothing to suggest anything height-wise. I just like to look at it.
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(PS thank you for reading my fic even though you haven't played the games! It always makes me really happy to hear that people like my writing enough to do that. but also I have like, fully conspiracy theoried my way into believing they'll rerelease the games.)
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birdmenmanga · 5 months
Note
please talk more about chobits. i am so mentally ill about this show
okay disclaimer that I've never watched the Chobits anime and I've only read the manga. I dunno if they changed any important details but I doubt they changed anything too major (maybe I should check the anime out at some point?)
Usually I like to format my essays in a coherent post but whatever. That's too hard rn. I'm just going to write about it in no particular order with no screencaps of the manga to prove my point you guys are just gonna have to take my word for it
I think it's SO funny that like. The huge dilemma at the end centered around android facial recognition. Like yes this series was written like 20 years ago and yeah it was writing about a time that's basically our present day, and technology has advanced impossibly fast that even their imagined cutting-edge technology looks horribly outdated at this point.
Without the ability to recognize each other, we will only ever be objects. When a robot can recognize your face, only then can love ever be possible. Hideki, did you know you just opened up a whole new world of data scraping and targeted advertising in your universe?
I don't really blame CLAMP though. I think it was never really about robots as technology but rather robots as a reflection of humanity. Like Minoru, who built a Persocom modeled after his sister who passed away in order to cope with his grief, like the baker who loved his old Persocom so much he married her... it's a story dreaming about human connection, how we're always longing for relationships.
Mixed feelings about Chi's backstory with Freya Ichiro and Chitose. On one hand it's very touching that these two scientists just straight up built their own daughters, and naturally they would build their daughters with the ability to love, and it REALLY feels in character (where the character is the field of computer science) and they would forget about biases in the computer's collected data (daily experiences of their robot daughters) that Freya would accidentally fall in love with Ichiro. That's so plausible it hurts. I also think it's mildly funny/heartbreaking that Freya's grief made her fucking shut down like here's that weird intersection between technology and personhood of androids like girl what!! you're like oh no my android is shutting down because of an endlessly recursive loop... ok then close the loop??? edit your daughter's code??? You are literally the only doctors for her in the world? you're just going to let her die like this?????
By the way I don't know if I'm using the correct names for everyone but I'm sure you can figure out who I'm talking about based on context anon
While I think that ^^^ whole thing is sad but also hilarious in a kind of narmy way, I do think that Minoru and the baker's story were excellently executed and are genuinely heartbreaking. The baker's story most of all. I cry every time I read the part where the press is harassing him and asking him about his dead wife and he goes "Stop it. Stop referring to her as 'my wife' or 'my android'. She had a name, and it was Yumi." That was sooo good bestie I go insane every single time... like that IS so terribly realistic, like you can say it's a metaphor for dementia where the person you love can no longer remember who you are, or who they are for that matter, but it's also such a real facet of technological decay where eventually... no matter how much you love a feature, or a machine, or an app, or a whatever... these are all things that are built and maintained by others. And one day that maintenance will stop. And one day it'll go down forever.
Minoru's story too... when Yuzuki (Yukari? I forgor :skull:) tries to hack into the government database by herself and almost gets shut down he gets really mad at her and she goes "sorry I know I'm supposed to be your dead sister and you would be super heartbroken if i died again I'll be more careful" and he goes "no man like yeah you did start off as a horrible coping mechanism but you're a new person now, with your own life experiences and not just a copy of my sister, you matter to me because you're you, not because you're a replacement for someone"
I think that's a theme that comes up a lot, actually. I think this series is meant to address the fear that technology will replace humans not only in terms of jobs and stuff, but even in terms of human connection and affection. Why love me when you can love your perfect android wife who will never argue back? And I think the answer that the series provides is, is that really the horrible future you think it is? Because the truth is that humans are capable of love, capable of so much love... we love and we lose and we love again, we pack bond with just about anything out there... is that really such a horrible thing?
Conceptually I think it's interesting, but once again, I feel like CLAMP's vision failed to accurately account for how technology actually is in real life. The amount of data harvesting that needs to be done, likely unconsensually, is insane, and probably renders this whole operation deeply unethical on a level that they didn't even consider. Yeah I think it's great that we can love robots and that we can make robots that love us back. Not in our capitalist hellscape though.
I haven't read it recently, but I don't think there was ever a point that I felt like the pacing of the story was bad. Yeah, there are a ton of detours and side stories, but they all felt very relevant to the main story.
I know it's like. Chi's story or whatever. But also it feels like Hideki is also sidelined sometimes. It sometimes feels like he was just a necessary component to get this story to work, and without Chi he isn't anything (he's just ken kind of vibe). He's never brought up in CLAMP's other stories while Chi is (multiple times, even! TRC and Kobato I believe), even though the Chobits story is from his perspective. i dunno lol
I also think the art of Chobits is gorgeous. Among CLAMP's works I think it's probably second place, after Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle (thought I might be forgetting some; it's not like I have a definitive ranking LOL) and tied with Angelic Layer
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nabateaprodigy · 7 months
Note
hello! can i ask for a dimitri x f!reader who is like cardia from code realize? basically, she has a gem embedded in her chest that causes her skin and blood to be poisonous (not her hair) so anything she touches melts away because of the poison. she has been isolated basically her whole life so is kinda clueless about social interactions and stuff.
also, her whole life she has been called a monster and told that she cannot love anyone. so, how would dimitri feel about that kind of person? how would he feel if he fell in love with her? what would he do to protect her? that kinda stuff!
sorry this is a little long, but thank you in advance!
- 🧊 anon
The Prince and His Maiden of Death
Series: Fire Emblem.
Character: Dimitri.
Genre: Angst/Comfort.
Proofread: Yes.
Reader: Female.
Notes: Cardia from Code Realize reminded me of an anime I'm a fan of. It's called The Duke of Death and His Maid! (Which is what I based the title of this fic on!) The way you described Cardia reminded me of the Duke so I had fun writing this! (I hope you don't mind that I based some things in this fic from the anime.)
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Alone. That's something that you had been constantly reminded of from a very young age. You wanted nothing more than to make friends and play with other kids.
However, in the area you lived in it was common knowledge that a family had "A Maiden of Death" living with them and this hurt the name of your family.
You were supposed to be the next head of your house. However, your mother passed that responsible onto your sibling. If you ever wanted to be the head of the house or live with your family again you would "Have to get rid of that dreadful curse" as your mother put it.
Oh that's right you didn't live with your mother or any of your siblings. You had been living in a mansion deep in the woods anyway from anyone or anything. However, you did have someone with you your loyal butler.
You were thankful for him choosing to stay with you even knowing about your curse. You couldn't have asked for anyone more kind and loyal than him. That's how it had been for many years until you were a teenager.
It had just been you and him in that mansion so naturally you were very close with him. You didn't have much social interactions with anyone else your mother never even bothered to pay a visit or write a letter to you.
Your Butler wanted nothing more than to see you happy and make friends. So one day he suggested that you attend the Officers Academy. Naturally, you were against this idea of his.
There would be so many people around you who wouldn't want to accidentally touch someone and kill them. Not to mention you would have to be around and speak with other people. It's just something you wouldn't want to deal with so you were against doing it.
After some more discussion with your butler, you managed to strike a deal with him. You didn't have to stay for a while at least for some time to see how the experience would be for you. So you agreed to this and after some time you were on your way to enroll in the Officers Academy!
When you arrived you discussed with Archbishop Lady Rhea. She was understanding of your situation and would do anything she can to accommodate your stay at the Officers Academy. After that, you had been enrolled in the Blue Lions class.
You were extremely nervous, to say the least meeting so many new people at once. Lady Rhea had made your classmates aware of your condition. Just in case any of your classmates were overly friendly and wanted to hug you as a greeting.
Before you could even think of how you should greet your classmates you've already arrived in front of the classroom. 'There's no turning back now.' You thought you should just get this over with now. If you didn't like this you could return home but nothing wrong with giving something new a try right?
So you opened the door where all your classmates were waiting for you. You felt nervous with so many eyes on you all at managed to push that feeling back and introduced yourself. "Hello everyone it's nice to meet you I'm your new classmate my name is Y/N."
(Time skip brought to you by Ingrid bonking Sylvain on the head for flirting with every woman he sees.)
It had already been a few weeks since your arrival at the Officers Academy. To your surprise, you had been enjoying your time here. However, that was mostly thanks to one person in particular Dimitri.
Out of anyone you were most close with him and spent the most of your time as you could with him. He made you feel safe and you could truly be yourself when you were with Dimitri. Of course, you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand and hug him.
However thanks to your curse it made things like that impossible. But there was one thing you could do together that made you happy. That was Dimitri playing with and styling your hair. Dimitri was a man who didn't know his strength so even with just playing with your hair he was afraid he'd hurt you.
There was also the issue that well Dimitri didn't know how to style your hair in any way...However thanks to your friend Mercedes he was able to learn and style your hair. It's something you enjoyed as it was the closest you two could get physically.
He was someone you could easily open up with and talk to about how you truly felt. Whether that be about your curse or just how you were feeling that day. You couldn't be more happy to have someone like Dimitri in your life.
It was just another average day for you and Dimitri nothing special so far. However, that song changed as this would be the day that truly defined your love for Dimitri.
"Y/N I know for the longest time you lived in isolation because of the curse. For the fear of others hating you or yourself hurting others. However, with the time I've spent with you, I can see that you want nothing more than to be around others to have friends.
You are kind and caring considerate of others and how they feel. And for that, I love you Y/N more than you could ever know. Together let's find a way to break your curse when all is said and done. Will you rule over Faerghus by my side as Queen?"
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popawritter12 · 1 month
Note
Hello.Can I apply if they are still open?Can I have a Raiden x reader please? I would like to see comfort or anxiety (?)She is an excellent informant, constantly living under the guise of other people. Her motives and behavior are constantly changing. Everyone finds her somewhat threatening because they can't figure out what's on her mind. Raiden knows her a little better and at one moment finds her completely broken, because living someone else's life, knowing everything about everyone, is difficult and destructive for the psyche.Sorry, I do not speak english well. I hope my request will be clear...Thanks in advance <3
Of course! I really needed an excuse to do a oneshot with this man HAHAHA (Sorry if it took too long :c)
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Yandere! Raiden x Female reader
Yandere character: Raiden/Jack.
From the videogame/serie/book/movie/manga or anime: Metal Gear saga.
Case: Stalking, a little mention of illegal investigation, comfort and anxiety for the reader <3.
Warnings: Nao nao.
Part: 1 of 1
Finished: Yes.
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(You never knew Raiden much, in fact, you only exchanged words with him a handful of times. It was the same with the rest of the team; you just do the most important thing, and then the rest doesn't matter.)
You had a somewhat complex job, the change in personality and appearance was almost as constant as drinking water. And lately, those “jobs” had appeared with more regularity. They were more than your mind could handle; especially with how seriously you took the job you had been assigned.
Especially with how difficult it was to deal with the people you encountered. As an informant, you had a hard time coping with your mental health due to overwork.
Although, you hated being so untalkative; There were very few people you genuinely talked to with confidence, and especially at work. And while you always sought to maintain a constant line of respect with everyone you met, you never felt a level of connection of genuine friendship with anyone.
Without many options, you tried not to overthink. Between all your mistakes in doing various jobs during the most recent week, along with recent arguments with your family led you to be tired, but not physically.
It had been a particularly complex day for you. In fact, this whole week was being especially difficult for you.
—How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine?
—You know it's not that, I just think…
—This is the fourth time this week you've called me! —You gritted your teeth, trying to suppress how irritated you were—. You almost ruined my job today, the same thing happened yesterday and the day before yesterday, don't you understand how important this is to me?!
The woman on the other end of the phone sighed somewhat heavily.
—I feel like this job is slowly consuming you, I'm afraid you might be having a hard time because of this.
—But..! —Before you could deliberately let out any insults, you threw your back slightly back, hitting the fluffy pillow of the backrest, before remaining silent.
The chair moved smoothly due to your abrupt tilt. The smell of dust invades your senses as you tried to stay calm. The other person you were talking to was a close aunt of yours, she was like your second mother, and she called you often, so often that even your mother more than once threatened to take her cell phone away from her if she didn't let you in peace.
—Listen, dear —She began, a noise from the television playing on her side of the call —.I'm sorry to be so annoying, but I think it's been many months since we saw each other in person, and I'm worried that there's something wrong with you or someone trying to revent you from talking to me and your mother.
Even if you wanted to respond, you just listened to her.
—If you don't want to talk, that's fine, just call us from time to time, okay? —She continued, but she was called by a couple of knocks on her door—well, sweetheart, I have to go, I love you.
She cuts off your call before you could answer, leaving you silent, alone.
You removed your cell phone from your ear, placing the object on the table now. Your gaze remained fixed on the screen, thoughtful.
Doubt arose in your head; How long had it been?
Because you were so busy, the days flew by, as if what had happened 5 months ago had happened yesterday. Checking your calendar, you realized that it had indeed been a long time since you last saw your mother and aunt.
You looked at the images and information that you had hanging on the furniture in front of you, noticing that the amount of words and images that were located there was… excessive.
In fact, it had been a long time since you last hung out with someone you really trusted. Part of you thinks it's because you're so used to no one waiting for you. But, now you feel a gradual change about your past decisions.
Mom was waiting for you at home, longing for you to be safe, maybe thinking that someone is hurting you, or taking you away from her, or killing you.
You panted heavily, leaning down to touch the pad of your phone with the tip of your finger.
Mom is worried, and your aunt too.
Tell me, why the hell do you care more about a fucking job? Unlike the other people there, at least you had a family. Why were you working so many extra hours to investigate, to reinforce your performance? Was all this really about the money? Or was it because you like to rack your brains over topics that don't even concern you?
Your heart rate increases slightly, along with a slight feeling of weight on your chest. That same feeling that had haunted you so much that day.
They are worried about you, why do you ignore them? And your friends? Do they no longer exist for you?
Why the fuck are you still in that job after so many years and all the shit you had to see?
Physical torture, manipulation of all people with important information, death…, and many more things that you preferred not to remember.
So many people with whom you interacted and pretended that they were reliable friends, who for endless hours you dedicated yourself to listening to their problems or their deepest thoughts, so that in the end they end up dead.
And partly, his death was your fault. Tell me, how far are you willing to go? How far are you going to justify your complicity in the death of so many people?
Are a few dollars equivalent to the death of these people?
Your heartbeat increases, while small drops begin to fall from your cheeks. But you didn't sob at any point.
You could feel your hands shaking. You ran your palms over your face, gently covering your entire face. And you just sobbed softly, trying to vent all your thoughts clinging to your chest and stuck deep in your mind.
In short, there was no one but you in that small place you called “your research office.”
Then, a hand on your shoulder catches your attention.
—(Name)?
His voice sounded soft, unlike how it normally sounded. Quickly, your hands left your face, while your head along with your shoulders moved slightly to where you heard the voice.
—S-shit… —You gasped, before grabbing a used napkin to quickly wipe your cheeks and eyes, —…, I didn't know you were around.
Because of how quickly you went through the paper cloth, and because of the time that had passed since the last time you used it, your skin ended up scratched and somewhat bruised.
After that, you threw the paper into the trash can—although the trash can was overflowing with papers—and you pretended to arrange some papers of your desk.
—Why are you here..? —You hesitated, but before you expected it, he took the papers.
—Are you ok?
The question didn't take you so much by surprise, but it did take your sensitive heart, which longed for that human contact, even if it was only through words.
—Yes, why would I be…?
He grabs the back of the swivel chair, before moving it so you're facing him.
—You do not look well.
It was too obvious that you couldn't pretend to be bad right now, but you also didn't want to look this vulnerable to him.
—I just had a… family problem —You answered simply.
He didn't look entirely convinced, but he let go of the back of the chair, at least giving you some space.
—You've been very busy this week, are you sure you're okay? —He insisted, his gaze traveling a little over your face.
Small parts of your face, like your nose or the dark circles on your eyes, were slightly scratched. And your eyes were still with a tearful sheen along with a poorly hidden trace of the tears that had escaped from you.
Among all your classmates, you thought anyone could find you in a vulnerable situation like this, except him.
But in the end, you needed someone by your side so you could let go of all the thoughts you had inside of you.
—Actually… I feel like… it's been a long time.
He was confused, but didn't mention anything.
—My aunt called me, and she told me that she was worried about me… —You started your explanation —…, but she had already called me like twice or more during the week, so I… was a little angry.
Your voice cracked softly as you progressed in what you were telling him, while your heart rate increased again.
—I yelled at her and told her to stop interfering in my work, I thought that if I told her it was okay, then she wouldn't be worried —You continued, your hands shaking again —, but she just told me that… it had been a long time since the last time we saw each other in person.
Your hand went to cover half of your face, while the other stayed on the table, trying not to move it too much.
—Her voice sounded so soft that I remembered that… —The hand on your face clung to your skin, as if you were holding back your tears —…, it's been like 6 months since the last time I saw them.
He knew that you were bad, that you had a bad week, even how your aunt was bothering you with her calls, but still, he listened to you.
—And well; One thing led to another and I thought that… I was selfish, and that I can't treat a family member of mine like that, you know? —You looked at Raiden, but you just sighed, a little broken due to crying —, although it sounds silly… because both you and the other people here can't even go back to their homes or have a normal life and they're here… But me? I am crying because of this nonsense of mine.
The tears continued to come, as you slowly lost control of your words.
—Sometimes I just want to quit, all these thoughts about my job are too much some days, you know? —You gasp again with some difficulty—. Sometimes I think about everything I saw; You and other people have reached a point of almost no return, and I've seen so many things while pretending to be other people that I thought… Why am I still here? Why can't I stop all this and go back to my mother? Why can't I… go home?
you got up roughly from your seat, the chair going violently backwards, colliding with a giant blackboard.
—I think I'm just… talking stupid things now, I'm sorry, Raiden, —You apologized, exchanging glances with him again —. Sorry if I wasted your time…
One of his hands subtly went to your cheek, passing over one of your tears.
—It's not stupid —He whispers, the pad of his thumb making gentle movements over your skin, —, after all, I've been seeing you a little down for two days. And I don't think thinking about renounce is exactly something light.
Even if his understandable words took you by surprise, you felt the center of your chest warm up, slowly easing the weight.
—I'm sorry… I didn't think I worried you —You whisper, a slight smile on your face.
—Don't worry about it, —He whispered, almost as if he wanted to make sure you were calm.
You kept looking at him, almost as if you were lost in his eyes.
—You could ask for a day off after all this —He mentions, almost casually—, you don't have to make hasty decisions because of those things.
You came to your senses, before continuing to talk to him.
You never thought that someone like him could be so understanding of topics that are so… ordinary. But you were really grateful to find someone who can listen to you without judging you in such a way. He actually spoke to you like one friend to another, as if he knew exactly what to say so you could trust him and vent your thoughts to him.
After a while, you finally felt like that mental fatigue had abandoned you like a South American father abandoned his newborn child.
—Thank you, Raiden —You tell him, at the same time that you felt the edge of your lips curve into a smile—. I really needed to talk to someone.
It was the first time you saw him smile, which made you feel calmer.
—Can I give you a hug? —You ask him kindly, it was common that you didn't know how to interact normally with someone like him.
He only responded by walking closer to you, before gently wrapping his arms around you. He didn't use any force, in fact you just felt his arms collide with your body. He was so gentle that you just rested your head against his chest, both of your hands going to the top of his back.
Even with certain parts of him being cyborg, you felt warm in his embrace. There were no longer traces of sadness in your heart, only a feeling of security running through your soul.
When you both separated, you couldn't help but continue smiling at him. Although unfortunately, due to the hours they were in, he had to leave your office again.
And when you both said goodbye, you gave him another hug, a quicker one since you wanted to go to sleep early. And the moment he closed the door, you began to rearrange your desk a little.
And, while you were doing that, he, outside your office, just lit a cigarette, bringing it to his lips as he walked through the place towards the exit.
His mind was filled with new thoughts; Now that he had gained more of your trust, he could give himself the freedom to greet you or talk to you more normally, unlike before.
The only thing that calmed him down was that no one was coming near you. It wasn't because of him, in fact he was one of the few people who could approach you, without wanting to get away from you as quickly and subtly as possible, that made his job easier.
And, in fact, he is visibly…inclined to like (Name).
He smiled at the new idea he had, before taking another drag of the cigarette, knowing that he was getting closer to the person he loved so much.
Although he wished he could make sure your aunt doesn't bother you so much, it bothers him to hear her voice so many times during the week.
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phyriaxi · 3 months
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Another ask separate from my rq, are there any artists or other influences that have inspired your art that you'd like to share?
ohh boy, this is definitely a question I can ramble about (apologies in advance for the long text!!)
Short Answer (a list of lasting artistic influences):
Movies/animanga: How to Train Your Dragon, Avatar (not ATLA, sorry) , Evangelion, Pinch Point (by VLANCAT), Land of the Lustrous, Tower of God, CSM, Tokyo Ghoul, 86 EIGHTY-SIX
Games: Arknights, Cytus II (rip art team..), Honkai Impact 3rd, Destiny 2
artists/illustrators/animators: Shilin, Ishida Sui, yasutatsu, WOOMA, par0llel, suzumesakiii, Dino_illus, liduke, ligton1225, Curie Lu, 96yottea, many many others... I could write nearly every Arknights illustrator as well and still not be satisfied ..
Music: classical music, Ado, KIVA, Eve (the MVs..!), i think i need to stop listing things now because it'll never end
Long Answer (rambling):
when it comes to art, i am definitely inspired by other visual artists, but i am also very inspired by the world around me as well as creators of other types of media. i'm extremely lucky to have grown up in a lively, diverse city with a wonderfully creative family, so the art and music of my family and environment plays a large part in my artistic preferences!! Something I have really wanted to integrate more deeply into my art is the contrast between new and old, grungy and refined... it reflects a lot of the conflicts that make up what I consider to be "me." Also, I just really like the vibe of chaotic industrial zones and rusty metal combined with a shining city in the distance, lol.
Regarding particularly influential media: pretty much anyone who's taken a glance at my blog will know immediately that Arknights is one of my biggest influences. it's basically all i draw nowadays... whenever I'm not thinking about Responsibilities and Adult Life i'm usually thinking about either Arknights or Ado (<3).
before Arknights, I spent a long time drawing fanart and fan-characters inspired by How to Train Your Dragon. Both the visual and musical aspects of that series still have a very dear place in my heart, even if I don't engage much with the community anymore. I actually only really started drawing not-dragons about 3 or 4 years ago at this point. Something I have been thinking about a lot recently is how I can go back to drawing more creatures alongside my humanoid subjects, since it's not something I've done very much recently.
Gradually I began to find more friends in the art community, and I think I'm very influenced by those people as well! It isn't a competition, of course, but being around people who are also pushing to improve is a big motivator when I am feeling low on passion. "I want to stand together with them at the top of world one day", is how I often feel. I really want to work on a collaborative project with other artists someday as well. Trying to build my skill is partially because I want to better express my ideas, but also because I want to inspire and be inspired by other creators. :D I think my art has been evolving at a pretty good pace recently because of these motivators.. the friends and regulars (including you, burstfoot!!) that visit my blog regularly here really motivate me too!!
and lastly, I'm at a point in my life where I feel that if I can't get this art thing off the ground, I will probably have to give up on pursuing it properly soon... so it's partially desperation that is inspiring me to change and try new ways of expression as well :,]
[ thank you for the ask!! ]
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glitter-bunny420 · 2 years
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for your viewing pleasure, here is a list of some of the most iconic quotes from snapcube’s sonic the hedgehog fandub series
*sighs* "I miss my wife, Tails. I miss her a lot. I'll be back."
“Oh!” “Bitch, you are gon’ get in this car or I'm poppin’ between your eyes!" "Wait, I know you! I saw your dick on Twitter!" “AGH! GOD DAMN-!”
"What the fuck?! Is that Shadow's dick?!"
"Who posted my nudes on Twitter dot com?! Oh no! Oh no, they put it all the way in the fucking islands! Now everyone’s gonna know about my secret egg dick. Where do you think you're going, cucker?" "I don't talk to people whose dicks are less than three inches.”
"I can't believe your tits are one polygon!"
*evil laughter* "You fool! I have seventy alternative accounts!"
"Ah! I just remembered a traumatising experience in my past. Hang on, I have to stim and I'll feel better."
"Welcome to Tilted Towers! Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Memphis Tennessee and I'm part lizard."
“I peed on your wife, Robotnik. She's mine now. That’s the law." "What the actual shit?! What?!"
"Alright, since Team FurAffinity fucked my wife, I’m going to have to have you both be a part of my team. Why is the camera zooming in?!" “I mean, I guess that’s fine as long as I get my weed back, I don’t really care.” “I don’t have a character motive.” “Listen! We’re going to explore this island. You’re going to find Sonic. He has all the weed that you need - the gonja, that mary jane. Mari-jamij! All in his pockets. He is your local drug dealer and I’m going to blow up the island. Now go look for Sonic. And hurry up, you... fucking... cuckhogs.”
“I'm going to kill you. And then kill you again."
"Hi, Mr. President! We need your help! Some masked villain named the Glitch-” “Sonic! My long lost lover! It’s fi- Oh.” “Wha- Hey, I told you not to bring that up anymore. I'm putting that behind me, Mr. President.”
“You didn’t think I had legs, did ya? I’m like Gru, except I’m the one before Gru. I’m... Eggru. Ooh, gottem.”
“But Maria, you smelt it! Therefore, you are the one who dealt it!”
“You motherfucker! You just left me to die!" "Top thirty reasons why Sonic is sorry. Number five will surprise you." “Top thirty anime deaths! Number one! Your fucking ass right now!”
”All of that you see before you? Everything the piss touches, that is your kingdom. And you, my son, shall go forth and inherit it.”
”What are you two fucking talking about?!”
”Well, ten years have passed and I feel the same way, Rouge.” “You still wanna pee in a Hot Topic?” “Yes, Rouge. Thank you for listening to my insane ramblings about peeing in a Hot Topic.” “Listen, I’ll take you to a Hot Topic.” “Finally... A place to release myself.”
”Oh, this? It’s my arm!”
“Do you see this? This is the diamond that I’m going to give to my brand new husband and/or wife. It’ll be theirs for the rest of time. With the GameCube 2. So if you want-” “Whoa, he’s bisexual! I didn’t know that-” “By the way, I’m bisexual.”
“Are you my mom?!” “No? What... the fuck?”
“Maria.” *explosion sounds*
“I don’t feel so good. Why are all my limbs slack? Why can’t I move my eyes? Why can’t I move my mouth? Is this an internal dialogue? I can’t see the end of the horizon. HATSUNE MIKU, IS THAT YOU?!”
*various voices repeating “Maria” all at once* “I never learned how to reeeaaad.”
“Silver, you know what? You’re a twink. I’m gonna go smoke some weed now.” “How long were you waiting to say that?” “The whole dub, baby!”
“One!” “Yeah, one.”
“This is an advanced skateboarding trick.” “Yeah, it’s called ‘Digging Up Atlantis’.”
“I... will fucking... end you.”
And last but certainly not least...
"I've come to make an announcement. Shadow the Hedgehog's a bitch-ass motherfucker! He pissed on my fucking wife. That's right, he took his hedgehog fuckin' quilly dick out and he pissed on my fucking wife, and he said his dick was ‘THIS BIG’, and I said ‘That's disgusting!’, so I'm making a callout post on my Twitter dot com. Shadow the Hedgehog, you've got a small dick. It's the size of this walnut except way smaller. And guess what? Here's what my dong looks like!” *explosion sounds* “That's right, baby. All points, no quills, no pillows. Look at that, it looks like two balls and a bong. He fucked my wife, so guess what, I'm gonna fuck the Earth! That's right, this is what you get! My super laser piss! Except I'm not gonna piss on the Earth, I'm gonna go higher! I'M PISSING ON THE MOON! How do you like that, Obama?! I PISSED ON THE MOON, YOU IDIOT! You have twenty-three hours before the piss drrrop-o-lets hit the fucking Earth! Now get outta my fucking sight, before I piss on you too!”
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onehornedbeast · 9 months
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OC TAG GAME
I was tagged by the lovelies @marivenah @detectivelokis @voidika @inafieldofdaisies @strangefable @madparadoxum @shegetsburned @jinfromyarikawa @sstewyhosseini, I'm sorry that it took me awhile but thankyou for the tag!! <3
I made 2 more temporary banners for this game but to be honest I have way more ocs that were unnamed and I won't mention them all cause I'm hella embarrassed lol anyways this is loooooong post so I apologise in advance
Since I'm late I won't tag anyone but considered yourself tagged if you see this 💓
FAVOURITE OC
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Somehow she is the icon of this blog, everyone loves this forest gremlin and even though I have more ocs now she's still mentioned by a few peeps because I wouldn't stop talking about her. She's deadly, super book PhD smart, motivated by trauma and anger yet she is also a stubborn protector of defenseless people and other living beings. Honestly maybe she's too overpowered but I love her, writing about her has been super fun especially her having a foul mouth besides the fact that she's an inspiration!
NEWEST OC(S)
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This character is still on the drawing board (even the fc!) but I'll get to them if I manage to stop obsessing over Valerie as for now I can tell you that while they still don't have a name yet, their stand name is called Godkiller or G.K for short.
They're a gambling addict, trying to win some riches even by cheating but instead they got into an unexpected adventure with others which changed their lives forever. Majorly inspired by the mythology creature Harpy and/or the bird, so their stand is like an armoured knight figure with feathered wings etc but they're probably a screecher??? I will stop rambling about them for now.
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I still need to work on this "fire breathing, lava bather and vomitter, the aggressive face tearing user to scare her victims before killing them" gal. She's still my fav IDGAAF character, I mean who wouldn't when they're working for Vought.
OLDEST OC
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I have this oc ever since I started college so....years ago and she is actually a reader-insert oc since I was unconfident about creating her fully. Sirenia actually a descendant of Poisedon and she's a hybrid mutant of the Sea God's son and a Siren??? Yes she can transform as a mermaid which is her strongest form but normally she stays a human (at least some of her scaly features were visible and cats were following her) Sirenia also controls the sea, wind/air and has an alluring voice that can switch to a deafening scream if angered.
Long story short she was captured and brainwashed by Hydra just like Bucky, hence the name The Winter Siren in her early years and they were pining for each other for decades lol until the winter soldier movie. I even had an outline of her lore and everything but I was unmotivated afterwards because of life. Who knows, I might bring her back and rewrite it better??
The Venom movie series got me imagining Sirenia who was a part of the Avengers interacting with Eddie and Venom anyway ahaha.
MEANEST OC(S)
Dr Stefan Eisenhauer is also a marvel oc, more like a villain and he's the one who made Sirenia life an absolute hell. He was fascinated by creating stronger mutants and all that evil scientist stuff. Luckily my girl Sirenia did kill him in the end as revenge. Serves him right for controlling her for who knows how long till she was rescued.
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We all know Hex in the past became a different person from her normal personality so it's not doubt that her other self is so cruel that when Elizabeth got her memories back, she felt revolted and sick. The things that Hex did were unforgivable and inhumane.
SOFTEST OC
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Her personality is the best to be honest. An embodiment of a rabbit as if she belongs to the moon, twirling away gracefully with the stars like the goddess Chang'e. But no, Diana has to stand up and fight for Earthrealm, her home needs to be protected. Just like the animal, she's powerful and can get kick pretty hard.
Honourable mention: Valerie too when she's with her partner in private. Girl is fluffy like cotton candy and her SO would melt at her pouting.
MOST ALOOF/STANDOFFISH OC
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Unless you're A-Train and Black Noir, good luck being her acquaintance in that company. She's even rude to the Deep despite him having an elemental advantage over her. She's just like Stan if I'm being honest. Cerberus is only friendly/softie to her pet doberman doggos.
SMARTEST OC(S)
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These two have academical degrees, I think that's sufficient reason to be called smart. Except one is using for preserving history and artifacts while the other is creating dangerous toxins and medicine, antivenom etc.
Valerie is so crazily smart that she tries these wild concoctions on herself cause of wanting to experience the effects herself. Crazy gremlin.
OC(S) I'D BE FRIENDS WITH
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Not because he has awesome bartending skills and can make me feel like royalty, definitely not. Jokes aside, I would love to be mentored by him. Man has the ability to make someone calm down or less nervous so I would like that.
Honorable mentions: Valerie again! She's the only one who has similar interests to mine and it's a dream of mine to have friends by bonding over the same music genre. I want her to take me as her protege. Inserting that god I wish that were me meme.
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acacia-may · 7 months
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More House Vaude Drama Thoughts...
Hi, I'd like to chime in with more House Vaude Drama ramblings given all the recent discussion going around (which I guess was started by me, sorry everyone lol 😂). @lyranova, @loosesodamarble, and @just-a-little-fan-1793, none of you have to read this (and sorry for the tag), but I couldn't figure out whose post would be most appropriate for me to reblog with my added thoughts so I've just decided to create a new post with more thoughts and tag y'all in case you want to see it. 😅
Long story short, the purpose of this post is that I'm not sure how well I explained my own personal feelings on this topic in my original ask (which Lyra so kindly answered and I've gone ahead and linked here) since my big issue with this whole convoluted mess isn't so much that it's a convoluted mess or that I shipped Vanessa with Finral first or even that Finral and Finesse's relationship had some flaws in the way it was presented in the canon. My real problem with all of this is how wrapped up it all is with the possibility of Finral returning House Vaude, his abusive home that he left for extremely good reason. But my thoughts on this topic were really long so I've put most of them below the cut... 😅 Thanks in advance for indulging my ramblings.
(Warnings: Black Clover spoilers and implied/referenced/discussed child abuse and gaslighting. There also are some constructive (but, I will admit, relatively blunt) criticisms of these pairings and how they were handled by the narrative)
I'd like to start by reiterating that I like both the Finral x Vanessa and Finral x Finesse ships, and I'd go so far as to say that I actually really like that romance isn’t the main focus of Black Clover. I truthfully didn't get into shipping in the series that much because it was so sidelined which really allows the strong friendships and familial bonds (especially in those wonderful found families) to shine!
Also, to this point, I love Finral and Vanessa as just platonic friends just like @just-a-little-fan-1793 mentioned (and on some level, honestly might prefer them that way). That said, I still think the manga did a much better job of qualifying their relationship in that way. When I mentioned in my original ask that I felt the anime played up Finral and Vanessa in a romantic sense, I really blame the English dub for that as I feel like the original Japanese anime played things much less flirty and much more familial teasing between them (it's the delivery of some lines, especially the ones in the sea temple). I've seen both, and I think if I had watched the Japanese first, I would have felt similarly that they were just good friends as I really don't have the strongest "romance detector" in the world and tend to default to platonic friendships unless whacked over the head with the romance. 😅😂
For me, some of those exchanges between them were just too flirtatious (in English). Maybe I was just looking through the lens of my own experience knowing that some of my dearest and closest friends are guys and I'm a woman, and I would never ever talk to my guy friends that way, especially if I knew they were as desperate for love as Finral. I realize part of that is just Vanessa being Vanessa but at the same time, it's (arguably) irrefutably that she is Finral's "best friend"...she knows him better than most people which means she knows how at least a part of him is going to take her saying she'd "let [him] take [her] on a date" if they survive the sea temple battle (and so on). It seems unreasonably cruel to tease him like that if she had him firmly in the "Brother Zone." (Not saying she wants to date him just that I felt there was a least the tiniest sliver of potential there for this reason. Even if the potential is barely 0.0001%, it's still more than zero. I just don't think she would've said it to Finral (again because she knows what he's like and how he'd take it), if the potential was zero). This line was not in the manga, so again, I blame the anime for the confusion which I think is a point that Lyra @lyranova and I both really agree on.
To the Finral x Finesse point, I agree with Erika @loosesodamarble that Finral and Finesse's relationship was handled poorly by the narrative in a troubling variety of different ways. Finesse should have (and easily could have) been mentioned sooner and it should have been made clear that Finral really was pining after her this whole time. Also, this "joke" that it's turning into is not funny and is honestly concerning for Finral's mental health, like he's gaslighting himself and we're all supposed to laugh at it?? It's bizarre and I'm really not a fan.
I would like to state for the record however, that my biggest concern with this pairing is not that I prefer Vanessa for Finral (honestly I'm not sure that I do if it was just personality-wise as I like both pairings equally in that respect but the situation things surrounding a Vanessa x Finral relationship are far less troubling to me which is why I think I tend to lean that direction). My biggest concern isn't even that the narrative kind of botched the Fin Fin execution--I'd be willing to forgive that since I do love Finral x Finesse as a pairing, but what I cannot possibly get over is that I can't think of remotely believable situation in which Finral can marry Finesse without going back to House Vaude. She is the king's grandniece, promised in an arranged marriage, and chronically ill. She also is meek and traditional just by nature. She can't and (I would argue) won't just elope with Finral. I'm sorry. I wish that was the case, but it isn't. If/when they try to make an elopement (or a "Finral gets the girl but Langris gets the estate" situation) happen in the canon, it will feel cheap, unrealistic, and/or nonsensical to me, and I say that as someone who actually ships this pairing and wants to root for them (which is a big source of my frustrations). Unless House Vaude miraculously burns to the ground (we can only hope right🤞), Finral will live there if he marries Finesse. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Which leads me to my main issue, I would rather gnaw off a limb than see Finral return to his abusive home, and I honestly say that with very little hyperbole. Now, I'll disclaimer this by saying I have a lot of personal connection to this topic (probably too much to stay level-headed about it) having loved a "Finral" (someone who ran away from an abusive situation in eerily similar circumstances) in real life and that may cloud my judgment a little bit here because, to be frank, the idea of that person returning to their abusive home for any reason at all makes me feel physically ill. Yes, of course, Finral himself is a fictional character, but the sentiment extends to him too because this whole plotline just hit way too close to home for me to the point where I have lost actual sleep worrying about what's going to happen to Finral and if he's going to go back to House Vaude at the end of the series. I realize there is some projecting there on my part (which is why I mentioned it), but it's the biggest reason I don't think I could really cope with a "Finral's happily ever after involves him becoming Head of House Vaude" ending, especially since Finral's romantic interest in Finesse has been handled so poorly by the narrative that they can't even make the (albeit weak) argument that "Well he loves her so much that it's okay he's going back to House Vaude. His love is so strong it'll help him weather the storm of abuse waiting for him when he goes back there." [For the record, that is a terrible, weak argument just objectively and it would be even if Finral x Finesse was the most perfectly handled ship in the history of the universe, but it can't even begin to be made here when he is literally banging his head against a wall yelling at himself that he actually is in love with her like "sHe'S tHe OnLy OnE fOr Me! Why doesn't anyone believe me?" Probably because you look like you're gaslighting yourself, buddy... 🙄 And yes, this is all just a bad joke, I understand, but it's in really poor taste considering what's at stake here is Finral returning to a toxic environment where he was tormented and abused for nearly two decades until he finally escaped in his adulthood. There is absolutely nothing funny in that.]
My heart breaks for Finral and I feel extremely protective of him, so my biggest concern in all of this House Vaude drama is his safety and well-being. I know that going back to House Vaude (no matter what his reasoning) will not be the best thing for him. Even if he believes that's "what he wants," it really isn't what he wants--it's only what he "thinks" that he wants because he has unrealistic expectations of what returning home will be like (See, his whole "I will make Father acknowledge me" speech when he "declares war" on Langris before leaving for the Heart Kingdom). That's not going to happen. That's never going to happen. The harsh reality is that the Lord and Lady Vaude are horrible, awful people who are incapable of unconditional love--a fact which has messed up both of their sons.
I worry about Langris too, of course, but he at least seems to have a better understanding of the reality of this situation than Finral who still keeps blaming himself like it's somehow his fault his father and stepmother don't love him. He still believes he can "earn" their love and just hasn't yet because there's something wrong with him, whereas by this point in the story, I think Langris is aware that there really is not and was never any love there to earn in the first place. Nothing either him or Finral do will ever be enough for Ledior and Liliane. Langris understands this, and Finral doesn't (which as much as I would love to rescue them both from that hellscape, if one of them has to stay, at least Langris knows what he's getting into).
Finesse unfortunately is way too connected to this house, this situation, and these people on account of the arranged marriage. If she was just some random castle town girl who had no connection to the Vaudes whatsoever, I think I'd have had much less of a problem with her being introduced late because Finral could just marry her without involving his horrible relatives at all (and that is the real issue for me here). But unfortunately, that is not the scenario presented to us by the canon. As it is now, Finesse and House Vaude go hand in hand and likely always will. I think Finesse herself knows this which is why she likely gave Finral space all of those years after he left. I like to think she really does love Finral which then begs the question of what she wants because I can almost guarantee you with 99.9% certainty that if she really does love him and has even the tiniest inkling of a sliver of what has gone on in that House Vaude hellscape (which come on, she cares so deeply for both Finral and Langris (however you want to qualify that) and has been around this family for years now, no matter how much her boys try to protect her from it all, she at least knows some of it or can make an educated guess that there's something dark and sinister in that House behind that perfect persona they try to display to the world), she wouldn't want Finral to step one foot back in there for any reason at all but especially not to be with her.
But yes, to be perfectly fair, this really isn't about Finesse personally. I would have concerns about any relationship for Finral if it involved him going back to House Vaude. (Though I'll admit that Langris' involvement in the whole Finesse situation was so unnecessary and has left a sour taste in my mouth, especially since the way things are playing out in the canon it is much easier for me to believe that Langris is the one who really loves her. Just a personal feeling, but it's not one I can give up and even if he acted like a jerk for a lot of the series, there is something unfair and tragic about the idea of Langris who was abused or tortured in House Vaude just like Finral (only in a different way) getting the rug ripped out from under him losing his house, title, what he worked for his entire life, his sense of identity in a way and (possibly) the only woman he has ever loved to his brother (who needs to stay the **** away from all that House Vaude garbage in the first place) but I digress...). Anyway, I think I settled into Finral x Vanessa mainly because it's not even an option for them to go back to House Vaude (not to mention that having been rescued from abuse herself, there is no way in hell she is letting him go back there).
But these are just my own personal feelings and opinions. Everyone perceives and interprets things differently. Like Lyra said, one of the fun parts of being in a fandom is getting to see all the different perspectives and interpretations. Everyone likes what they like, and it honestly would be really boring around here if everyone was exactly the same and liked exactly the same things so I'm really a big believer in (to paraphrase an old adage) just ship and let ship. I've no problem with either of these ships and no problem with anyone who ships both, one or the other, or neither of them. I personally actually like both of them myself. My only problem is Finral going back to his abusive home and as that seems like a more likely possibility with one (and the one that is most likely to be canon), it does leave me with some big concerns and some sour feelings for what otherwise would have/could have/should have been just a very sweet pairing.
Also, I think I'll just wrap things up with a confession that my favorite ship in this entire "House Vaude Cluster" is actually Finesse x Langris, [and it's honestly the only one I could probably drum up actual passion about as a ship in its own right (outside of this convoluted mess of circumstances, I mean)], but that has everything to do with my own personal preferences and the fact that (as I mentioned earlier) it is easiest for me to believe that Langris loves Finesse more than any other possible pairing in this love urchin. It hadn't been mentioned in any of the previous discussion at all, so I'm mentioning it now just to mention it. ^^ That said, it has nothing to do with anything I discussed here, so do with that information what you will. Cheers!! 💙
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dindjarindiaries · 11 months
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The main reason a lot of people hate the season is because the trailers set up a different vibe than what we got. Which is true for the most part, all of the trailers had content from the first 3 eps, which did leave the rest of the season in the dark. But the other 2 season's trailers were kind of the same.
People didn't know what to expect aside from the fact that Din and Grogu are gonna be venturing around together. A looottt of people really wanted more of just the two of them. Nothing really showing that Bo was gonna have such a huge role in the season, and she's not the most liked character to begin with.
Plus, the story is a bit more iffy than the past 2 seasons. It's Star Wars so it's never gonna be 100% great dialogue or story-telling (Guns for Hire is a big example of that, I know its your fav, I'm sorry). At the end of the season, there were still a few major questions or instances that were left unspoken about and completely ignored/forgotten about. I've seen some complain about the pacing of each episode, but like you said, the other 2 seasons have Din doing literally nothing but side missions.
I remember a bunch of hate on 'The Passenger' because it was "filler" but that's one of my favorites simply because of Din and Grogu.
I've also seen people say they'll be happy with "just ANY more Din content" but turn and complain when they get Din content 😭 The fandom was really confusing this season.
Anyways, I enjoyed the season as well but I do understand the gripes people have with it.
Thank you for sharing! I'm gonna dissect some of this and it has nothing to do with you at all; I'm so grateful for you shedding some light on this, because I do try to distance myself from Mandalorian negativity as a whole.
The trailers setting up a different vibe has definitely been happening since the beginning. I mean, season 1 left out Grogu completely, so that left the entirety of the show in the dark going into its premiere. Season 2 didn't have any, and I mean absolutely zero, footage from any episode past Chapter 12. A similar technique was used for season 3 and honestly, I appreciate it, because it keeps surprises! I can see why it would frustrate people, though.
Bo's bigger role this season was something that was implied with an adventure to Mandalore. Anyone who's come to love the planet from the animated series knows that she'd have to be involved in a large way just given her and the planet's history. I also realized it when I saw the end credits of Chapter 17 and Katee's name was under "starring" with Pedro's rather than "co-starring." Again, though, I can see why it was disarming for others.
I personally don't see how the story was "iffy." Key word is "personally!" If anything, to me, it felt more cohesive than season 2 and in some ways more than season 1. Much of the fandom today wasn't around for season 1 when we got Chapters 4, 5, and 6 in succession and fans were complaining about each one being fillers and having absolutely no advancement of the story. Season 2 just had the same thing every episode for the first 5 episodes, with Din asking for information and being asked to help with something before gaining that information.
Season 3 had a lot less of that; Instead, the mystery of Mandalore remained throughout the season, as well as the question of who's going to lead and how are they going to retake the planet. Din had an arc (thinking of himself and his redemption only to becoming a true father and a leader), Bo had an arc (hopeless and unmotivated to the unifying leader of Mandalore), and even Grogu had an arc (reluctant Mandalorian foundling to a confident apprentice). The theme was said by Bo in both seasons 2 and 3: Mandalorians are stronger together. Each episode was a step towards unity; Din on his own, then unifying with Bo, who then unified with Din's covert, who then unified with the remaining Mandalorians to retake their planet. It was a beautiful story to me, honestly.
Now, Guns For Hire? Yeah, I'll admit, it's an outlier. But it's fun, and it still served a purpose. Let's not throw out the last 10 minutes just because of what happened in the first 30. It showed that Din is still a complex character with droid trauma and it had some fun prequel callbacks as well as cameos. It was just a fun time to be had before the excitement and heaviness of the last 2 episodes.
I didn't mean for this to turn into an essay HAHA but again, thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my thoughts on what people have said about this season! At the end of the day, all media is subjective, so I can see why people didn't vibe with this season and I respect it even if I don't really understand it because of my own feelings for it.
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fyodorkitkat · 8 months
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Who do you think is the deepest character in diabolik lovers and whyyyyyy :3 (sorry if this is weird btw :,))
Tomà out here activating my dialovers derangement syndrome 🥲 ty ty ty also sry sry sry in advance 🙏💜
Minors dni with this post
This is not weird omg no one ever asks me about dialovers you need to understand I was into VNs including otome before I was into any anime (including bsd) and diabolik lovers is my longest term obsession that isn't music 💜🙏 This is mostly going to involve things from the games (because the anime was basically silly fanservice that barely scratches the surface for anyone) but I'll leave out drama cd stuff because I would actually need to go refresh myself on those.
Absolute novel under the cut sorry. also cw noncon, cw dubcon, cw abuse, cw csa, cw suicide, cw matricide
Anyone not familiar with the series who decides to continue pls be aware of these warnings and take care of yourself. Also pls understand everything I say is in terms of the series and setting. Absolutely nothing that happens in these games would make any of these characters redeemable irl. This is fiction and a trashfire Do-S fetish franchise. Trauma doesn't excuse abuse. I don't condone any of the bad behavior from this series irl. (Sorry since this isn't my sideblog I feel I need to explain this so ppl don't come at me thinking I'm excusing stuff for reals with this little analysis)
Also this is probably going to have spelling mistakes and horrific formatting because I wrote it on mobile so my bad on that too.
This was so hard to answer because so many of them have serious trauma, maladaptive coping mechanisms, and large amounts of growth throughout the various sequels. I think you could make the logical argument of depth for every single character. The Sakamaki triplets are def the most tragic of the first two games in this regard though (maybe only rivaled by the Tsukinami brothers once we get to Dark Fate because of the whole being the sole survivors of genocide thing)
But as a whole I think Carla and Shin deal with their predicaments in a more outwardly focused manner (which makes sense given their stories and roles as antagonists in their debut game) so I don't think I could objectively call them the deepest esp Carla even though he is my fave.
So out of the Sakamaki triplets I am going to go with Laito. Shocking I know because I have said before he is the one I am the most terrified of. But hear me out.
(I'm using HBD (haunted dark bridal) to refer to the first game, and MB (more blood) to refer to the second game going forward)
His first route in hdb is a stomach twisting mess of isolation, noncon, gaslighting and victim blaming. It is also the only route in that game where Yui tries to kill herself, which imo is really notable. Tbh the first time I played it I was so deeply uncomfortable I didn't really give his character a lot of thought. During replays and some of his drama cds though it def changed my perspective of him (in terms of the deepness of his character, not my dislike of him)
Here are my arguments in topical format because I don't really want to go through and do the research needed to refresh myself and make this chronological. Also if I am mistaken with anything I've paraphrased my bad it's because this isn't a real essay more of a rant that you might regret reading lol.
- Cordelia
We can't go into the rest of my arguments without the facts. He was groomed by his mother and experienced a childhood of CSA at her hands. And he is absolutely confused and suffering when he has his flashbacks. Yes he kills her with the other two triplets, but that didn't actually solve anything for him internally, and I think it is a pretty clear-cut argument that his negative traits and behaviors can be linked back to his unresolved trauma from this. He even says it himself too when he tries to project onto Yui and claim her hatred for him must be the same as his for Cordelia (though unnamed in his quote im pretty sure) that a hatred can run so deep that even killing the person won't relieve the burning. The other ironic part of this is that in the dialovers universe it is explained multiple times that the highest act of love for a vampire is murder. So. Every LI (Reiji, Laito, Ayato, Kanato) that committed matricide out of their hatred probably has some deeper more complex feelings going on than that. (You could also argue maybe a similar thing about Carla and patricide as well though he is Founder/First Blood not vampire. But he is more open about his reasoning and feelings around his parents and why he did what he did imo)
- His disdain of purity (plot twist. It's jealousy).
We repeatedly see him mock both Yui's purity and religiosity. He is arguably the worst out of all of the LIs when it comes to this topic, and hits this point right out the gate when he assaults her in the abandoned church. It is simultaneously a logical and also weird choice on his part to continue on with when you realize how unwavering her faith actually is, and if you do other routes before this one you are already coming in realizing no matter how much she "breaks", "changes", or "gives in" in other ways, she never actually abandons her faith completely even in future games when she is living quite literally in the demon world. Even in routes where she becomes a vampire she doesn't eschew God. However it is canon that she is a devout Catholic and that she originally wanted to be a nun (before the events of the game screw that up for her), so it is still relevant.
While it may have started as a way to try and break her down, it really becomes more and more clear through his routes that like a bunch of his other behaviors, he is projecting his own struggles onto Yui.
He is jealous of her purity, so he attacks it. He is jealous of her faith, so he attacks it. He is jealous of her unwavering belief in goodness and in humanity, so he just. keeps. attacking. it. Because seeing it exist in front of him hurts, but especially early on he isn't aware of his own emotions or why he acts the way he does. So many things in his routes and his monologues highlight the fact that Laito views himself as permanently dirtied by his past, and this behavior is tied to that.
- His inability to identify his feelings from his fake front and his use of sex to maladaptively deal with his trauma.
** I wrote way too much on this and decide nvm I think even if someone has only seen the anime his hypersexuality probably speaks for itself. Plus this is getting so long 😔**
-His lack of control in MB and "forced" behavior. His confusion over his own tears near the end of HDB.
There are various instances (esp in MB where his characterization is wildly different and desperate compared to HDB) where we see his mask start to crack, or realize that his mask wasn't actually very good to begin with and the exhaustion from the continous abuse in his routes has caused both Yui (and us as the reader) to fall for his bullshit more easily. He plays the part of a pervert, but Shu (who arguably is a massive pervert) calls him out in MB for being a phony. His behavior in MB makes him come across as desperate and out of control, as opposed to his calculated sadism in HDB. This all comes back to his inner turmoil, unresolved feelings, and trauma and we slowly unpeal those layers through the rest of the series.
I think at baseline it is really easy to dismiss Laito. I did from the beginning too. Plus he never stops calling Yui Bitch-chan no matter how many sequels he gets 🤦‍♂️ But that is just falling for his fake front, exactly what he wants you to do because then he can just keep carrying on without dealing with his bs and let off steam temporarily in the process. But under the surface there is a lot more going on. And he definitely is a character that has an insane amount of depth.
Sorry for the multi part novel. I don't even like him as an LI even in this series. But for a series with so many inconsistencies, retcons across games, and questionable writing choices, they did a good job with his character. I just need him to stay far away from both me and Yui 🥲 Imagine if you had asked me something that prompted me to talk about my faves 💀💀💀
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phantomrose96 · 2 years
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Sorry in advance because this is definitely coming out of left field. But I know you’ve mentioned that you run and I was just wondering if maybe you have some tips for someone who’s starting out. I’m severely lacking motivation, but I know it will be good for me from both a physical and mental perspective. Thanks even if you don’t answer this ask, you’re always a lot of fun to see on my dash.
sdjhbdshj okay scattered advice time!!!
Prioritize making it something you can maintain
Maybe sounds a little generic but I think so many people are like "yeah this is when I turn my life around! I'm doing a Youtubefluencer Mega-Cardio Death Bootcamp 8 Week Video Series" and then do something miserably hard for a week and burn out completely because the idea of keeping pace with it is just impossible.
Start slow. Start easier. Prioritize making it something you can start looking forward to. If you wanna walk, then walk. Appreciate pretty things outside. If running for 2 minutes makes you miserable then run for 1 minute and trade off with walking. I started off like that because my running stamina was absolutely terrible. 1 minute running, 1 minute walking, and even then my running pace was slow. Find fun music to listen to. Like really fun music. 8th grade dance hits come on, no shame.
Set little goals for yourself you can slowly build on (even better if you have friends or family who'd be happy for you hearing about you setting and meeting goals.) And if you can't meet a goal, don't force it. You're better off getting into a mindset of "oh I'll be excited to try again tomorrow" instead of forcing it and getting frustrated or having a miserable time from overdoing it.
Also, gamify it. However you want. When I first got into running I just did it on the treadmill, and I'd use that time to watch anime on my ipad. And cool that became my anime time. My rewatch FMA time. After 2020 I now mostly run outside and it's my get outside and look at pretty things time. My make amvs in my head of my characters time. My plan-most-of-ABoT time. Sometimes I'll make up something REALLY stupid like "oh what if everyone was being held captive and the murderer said ill let everyone go if someone can run this whole running route"
Basically I think a lot of people shoot themselves in the foot right from the start by getting into exercising as something vaguely punishing, some like "i gotta clean up my act" drill-sergeant style endeavor that pits them against it instead of viewing it as something that's allowed to be friendly and slow and steady.
Like sure, discipline is still involved. But that's more about overcoming the "hrugh couch is so comfy" feeling and not about like, putting myself through a damaging and punishing ordeal.
Uhhhhh some equipment things
Shoes matter. Not sure if you have the resources to get really good running shoes (if you're looking, I recommend Brooks a lot. I have the Ghost 14 and they're comfy for both running and normal wear.) But at least try not to be running in like, ratty old falling apart ancient decaying tennis shoes. Running has a lot of repetitive motion so if you're in really crummy shoes you could end up with blisters or just kinda hurting your foot. Also I recommend trying shoes on in person if you can. Finding the right fit can be fickle. If you go to a running store like Marathon Sports or Road Runner they usually let you try shoes on and go run up and down the sidewalk a little.
(Secondary plug for socks. These are the kind I have and they're kinda expensive but it's not like I have to buy socks often.)
Also depending on the individual, sports bras can matter a lot. They definitely do for me. Another thing that's best to try on IRL if you can, and it's another case where high quality goes a long way. Unfortunately it looks like they discontinued the kind I have :<. I own 8 of these, lol. The first two I bought back in I wanna say 2016 and they're as good as the day I bought them, and this is with constant use. So hopefully there's something similar. (Also, protip: it's best not to put sports bras in the dryer. Better to hang them up to dry.)
Oh also! Good headphones can be important. Tragically I keep having terrible luck with "good" headphones breaking out of the blue so I don't have recommendations.
Anyway, that's what I got!
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