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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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dukeofonions · 4 years

Text

Deceit’s Somewhat Acceptance Arc (And Why It Feels Off)

So I was gonna do the video game post first, but then I remembered I’d started this one before I left for the weekend and decided to finish it. As a result, it’s kinda messy and my thoughts are all over the place, I had to delete and rewrite is several times, but I think I managed to get my overall thoughts there.

As always, this is just my opinion. You are free to agree, disagree, or feel completely indifferent towards a random person who spends their free time dissecting fictional characters.

We all good? Let’s go then.

I won’t lie, Deceit was the best part of this video. I didn’t think he’d be included as much as he was. Originally, I thought he’d be content to lurk in the shadows and let Thomas deal with the repercussions of not heeding him in the first place and leave him to sort through the mess himself without his help. Possibly having a cameo in the end, foreshadowing some major event that’s soon to take place, but I was completely wrong and he got the best freaking entrance and completely owned the episode.

It was great, seeing him take on his role of self preservation and defend Thomas, who was being harmed unknowingly by Patton with how far he was taking things. He encouraged Thomas to start taking better care of his mental health, was given a seat at the table, and even showed they could trust him by revealing his name: Janus

It was wonderful, beautiful, and I have a lot of issues with this.

Let me explain, on its own, the whole scene building up to Deceit revealing his name, and the following aftermath, is perfect.

What feels off to me is Janus himself, he feels like a completely different character compared to the Deceit we met in Can Lying Be Good? and saw in action during Selfishness vs Selflessness

To start, let’s briefly go over Deceit’s character throughout the first 5 episodes we see him in before we get to POF.

In his debut, Can Lying Be Good? He spends a majority of the episode disguised as Patton. Pushing Thomas to lie to his friend in order to spare their feelings and to avoid the possibility of Thomas being hurt. He’s shown to enjoy the distress the others are going through as the situation becomes more and more uncomfortable, and even gets close to being aggressive when Thomas decides he needs to be honest in this situation. Once it becomes clear Thomas won’t listen to him as Patton, he drops his act and reveals himself.

Immediately, we are given the impression that this is not someone we can trust. From the music, to Deceit’s entire demeanor, even the Sides’ reactions to him are enough to enforce that idea, as well as Deceit’s reactions to them.

With Logan, he immediately silences him, growling almost as if he’s annoyed and has had to do this before. He doesn’t really pay Logan any mind after his reveal and ignores him for the most part and Logan is more than eager to expose him for what he is.

Roman states that he “Hates this guy and his creepy snake face” while adding that he’s “Very kind” which Deceit responds to by giving him a false compliment. Showing right away that this has also happened before with these two (Logan is about to comment on the exchange but decides not to bother)

Virgil clearly has some deep rooted animosity towards Deceit. With the glare he shoots him and the two immediately throw insults at each other which comes back to play in almost all of their interactions.

We don’t really get much in terms of what Deceit’s character is really like with this first episode. We know he can be a threatening presence, but also has a bit of a goofier, dorky side to him as well. At this point, we’re not sure what his goals are or what his relationships with the other Sides are like (It’s obvious they all don’t like him) but for a while, this was all we got.

His next appearance was a brief cameo in Logic vs Passoin where he showed up after Logan exclaimed “I won’t have you lying to yourself!” Where he gave an evil chuckle, flipped Thomas off, then sank out without a word. This still didn’t give us much in regards to Deceit’s character, other than enforcing the fact that he didn’t like Thomas and showing that he had a bit of a mischievous side as well. It did, however, show that Thomas was easily distressed by him and wasn’t entirely on board with having Deceit for a Side yet.

After that, he disappears for 2 episodes before showing up during the end card of Embarrassing Phases, which is one of my favorite scenes in the series, and one that now causes a bit of problems which I will get back to later. Just note that this scene once again reinforces these things about Deceit: He is a threat, he can’t be trusted, he still has a bit of a goofy side, and on top of that his rivalry with Virgil is expanded upon and the idea that these two have a history is put up front and center.

Then finally, we get our first official episode that takes all we’ve learned about Deceit and amplifies them in Selfishness vs Selflessness. What we get is a character that can be cool and charismatic, but can also be silly. It’s still unclear what his overall goal is, and he delights in being proved right and winning against the others.

An interesting thing to note here is that all of the interactions Deceit has with the other Sides in CLBG Come back into play here.

He ignores Logan and keeps his input limited, he uses flattery on Roman to sway him to his side, and of course him and Virgil still have their rivalry, revealing more and more just how much Virgil hates Deceit. We also finally get to see his relationship with Patton, and see that he seems to hold almost the same amount of animosity towards Deceit as Virgil does. Thomas himself isn’t as frightened by him anymore, and is willing to hear him out, but he still doesn’t trust him.

Throughout the “trial” Deceit openly mocks the others, discredits them, and when he “wins” he rubs that victory in Thomas’ face and is shown laughing and celebrating while the others are at the lowest they’ve been. Things then take a turn when Roman decides to sentence Thomas to go to the wedding and give up the callback, which clearly distresses Deceit to the point where he nearly has a breakdown due to the others not being able to comprehend what he’s trying to say. Which is basically, selfishness isn’t always a bad thing, which he articulates a lot better in POF, but we’ll get back to that.

He leaves the episode shortly after Logan shows up, but not before delivering this rather ominous line: “It’s clear you all don’t want to listen to reason (while the embodiment of Thomas’ logic and reasoning is standing right next to him) but hear this: I’ll always be a part of you. I’m not going anywhere, and there are smarter ways to get people to do what you want anyway.”

Does that sound like a threat to anyone else? Or is it just me? Keep in mind at this point, everyone is still very much against Deceit, and he clearly is about to change tactics when it comes to dealing with them and getting what he wants. Another important thing to note is that this is the last time Thomas sees and deals with Deceit directly before we get to POF.

I should probably bring up Dealing With Intrusive Thoughts because while Deceit isn’t in the episode, he is mentioned a couple of times by Remus, who implies that it was Deceit himself who’s responsible for sending Remus out to antagonize the others. While this can’t be confirmed, Remus claims that Deceit said “You’re wanting to be more honest and be direct dealing with your issues, no longer will you deceive yourself about the ugliness within you.”

(Admit it, you all sang that and added the little “Neat!” at the end. If you don’t, I’ll know you’re lying.)

This shows that Deceit is switching things up and making good on his “promise” that he made at the end of SVS by forcing Thomas to accept yet another part of him that he doesn’t like. One that, by comparison, is much worse than anything Deceit could bring to the table.

His next actual appearance is another cameo in Are There Healthy Distractions? where all he does is take his hat back from Roman and berates him for it. The only significant thing to happen here is Virgil’s reaction to seeing him, which again, I’ll get back to in a moment.

This was the last time we saw Deceit for awhile, we were then subjected to a long drought between episodes as people waited to see the aftermath of the wedding that was the main conflict of SVS. Keep in mind again that so far, Deceit has remained relatively the same mysterious, slightly villainous character that we’ve seen throughout his 5 appearances thus far in the series.

So you can see why some people would be shocked when he suddenly does a complete 180 and is going about promoting mental health while acting silly around Thomas and befriending Patton, the Side he went head to head with during his last main appearance, and is now being offered a seat at the table while showing genuine concern for Thomas and aiming to protect him, which goes to show that he cared all along.

Right?

Uh, yeah, I’m not buying it.

Well let me clarify, do I think Janus is evil? No. Is it impossible for him to actually care about Thomas? Of course not.

And do I think it’s possible for him to change from his villainous persona to a more friendly one? Absolutely.

The problem here is that it doesn’t feel earned. We’ve only had one full episode with Janus before this, and even in the brief appearances we got his character remained consistent throughout them all. It’s almost like there’s a piece of this puzzle missing, and I have a theory as to where it is.

In short, Janus has not been fully accepted yet. Thomas trusts him, and even Patton does now, but does Roman? Don’t make me laugh.

Logan? He was once again removed from the discussion by Janus, which is a running theme with these two, so I doubt he’d be quick to accept someone who continuously silences him unless it benefits him.

And the biggest factor of them all, Virgil.

He hates Janus, every interaction these two have had is filled with insults, glares, and Virgil becoming more aggressive than he’s ever been towards anyone in the series.

Just look at him in ATHD, when Janus shows up hardly anyone pays him any mind. Heck, Remus has continuously popped up throughout the episode and no one has batted an eye, not even Virgil. But as soon as Janus shows up he goes feral, hissing at him while Janus pays him no mind.

What is going on here?

It’s glaringly obvious that something has happened between these two, something that won’t be easily swept under the rug when it comes up.

For one thing, just compare Virgil’s relationship with Janus to his relationship with Remus. We see at the beginning of DWIT that, of course, Virgil is hostile towards Remus and hates him, while being distressed by him. The two know each other and seem to have a bit of a history of their own.

What’s the difference between Remus and Janus?

Well, Virgil gets over his fear of Remus in just one episode. By the time it ends, he isn’t bothered by Remus anymore and tells him as such. Remus even seems to be kind of fond of him as well. And when Remus appears again in ATHD, Virgil doesn’t acknowledge his presence at all. Yet when Janus shows up just to retrieve his hat from Roman, he goes into fight mode and probably would have attacked if he’d stayed for even a minute longer.

And if you need further proof, look no further than the end card of Embarrassing Phases and Janus’ parting words to Virgil: “Just be sure to keep up that personal growth Virgil. Who knows? Maybe soon you could be rid of us all.”

Again, does that not sound like a threat to anyone else? And why would he say that to Virgil? Is he implying that Virgil is trying to escape from them? Actually get rid of them? There’s so much that this could mean in regards to Janus’ character and what his motivations are, but then POF comes around and suddenly this doesn’t line up with his character at all.

Don’t tell me you could look at Janus at the end of this episode and say that this is the same guy. He’s gone from leaving an episode with a threat: “You’ve seen the last of me” “You could be rid of us all” “There are smarter ways to get people to do what you want anyway”

To this: “Take some time for yourself, Thomas.”

As well as rejoicing in being told he was right and advising Thomas to stop overthinking everything since, as we’ve now seen, it does not help him in the slightest.

So… What are we missing? What the heck is going on?

Well, I said it before and I’ll say it again: Janus hasn’t been fully accepted yet.

Really, only one Side out of the four main Sides has accepted Janus. This Side just happens to be Patton, Thomas’ morality, and the one thing that stood in the way of Janus getting his voice heard. Because as long as Thomas viewed lying as wrong, he’d never listen to him.

Now that he’s proven that isn’t the case, and that he can help, Patton (and therefore Thomas) no longer sees him as evil.

But again, Roman, Logan, and Virgil have yet to do so. We know how Roman and Virgil feel about Janus, but we have yet to get Logan’s clear view on him since every time Janus has shown up, he’s been left out of the conversation. Though it’s safe to assume he’d be somewhat bitter about that.

The main thing is that something has been set up between Virgil and Janus. Something happened to make them enemies and that can’t be ignored, and I believe this will be addressed soon.

Because if it isn’t, and Janus is accepted immediately by Virgil, then all this would just be explained through bad writing. Which, again, I don’t believe the team is incompetent by any means. However, I do think that this all happened way too fast.

Let’s look at Virgil for a moment, we got plenty of time to know him throughout season one. We got to see him in more of a villain role, and saw him gradually become closer with the group. We saw hints of him wanting to get along with the others and be a part of them, but ultimately, decided for himself that he was doing more harm than good and so, ducked out.

We had 12 episodes to get to know Virgil before Accepting Anxiety came out. 12 episodes as opposed to Janus’ 5, two of which were nothing more than brief cameos and one his introduction where he was only truly himself for the ending.

Really, Janus only had 3 episodes where it was relevant to the plot, and only 1 of those was a full episode, which was immediately followed by him being accepted and acting more like a good guy who just has a bit of a chaotic streak in him as opposed to the mysterious, charismatic Side who works in the background.

Now, the way I see, there are two ways to justify this sudden change. The first is what I said before, that Janus hasn’t been fully accepted yet and needs to be accepted by Roman, Virgil, and Logan first before this can be achieved.

And the other thing, which I hate to consider as a possibility, would be that Janus is putting on an act.

Think about it, Janus realized at the end of SVS that his methods were not working. So he changes his approach, ditching the villain and becoming a hero. He literally appears at the end during a boss battle and puts himself into the role of a protector, defending Thomas from Patton’s harmful behavior. He acts more silly, loosening up, showing genuine care for Thomas.

Then the biggest red flag, his name reveal.

As I watched the scene I couldn’t help but find it oddly reminiscent of Virgil’s own name reveal. From the build up, to the delivery, it all felt strangely familiar, almost as if it’d been rehearsed. Manufactured to get the exact reaction from the others (in this case Thomas and Patton) that he wanted.

Virgil revealing his name was a sign that he trusted the others, and I believe Janus knew this and thus, used it to his advantage.

And guess what? It worked like a charm. Thomas and Patton immediately began trusting him, Patton even went to him for advice after Roman left. Could you see Patton doing that at the end of SVS? I certainly couldn’t.

Now I’m not saying this is actually what happened. For all I know, Janus was being completely sincere when he shared his name, and it really was a personal moment. The only reason I have such a hard time accepting it as genuine is because, as I keep saying, none of it matches up with how Janus was before POF.

Until this point, his character has been consistent and stayed pretty much the same, but now he’s completely changed. And I know it’s normal for characters to grow and change as a story progresses, but again, it just happened way too fast for this character in particular.

This isn’t helped by the fandom’s complete 180 in regards to Janus. Before this episode, it was still pretty common for him to be seen in a mostly negative light. People outright hated this character, and attacked people who liked him. Then Remus came and wasn’t shown nearly as much hate or negativity as Janus was. Now all of a sudden Janus is a “Good uwu boi” and everyone loves him. I haven’t seen one person doubt Janus’ change of heart. Which is surprising because given the fandom’s treatment of him in the past, I’m surprised this hasn’t been more common.

But then I remembered that another Side is currently being thrown into a negative light, which is Roman. He’s been thrown under the bus after his recent actions at the end of POF, all while Janus is now being held up on a golden pedestal.

Honestly, I’m debating ending this post right here because this next part delves way too much into conspiracy territory, but since this would be kind of an awkward ending I’ll go ahead and just throw the idea out there anyway.

So, it’s been established that the Sides are aware that what they’re doing is being viewed by an audience. Roman, Logan, and Patton have all addressed the audience directly before. Virgil has given direct glances into the camera, and of course Thomas greets the audience in every episode and closes each one out with a message at the end of every one.

In Crofters: The Musical Roman outright addresses the fact that Logan has become more popular than him. Implying that somehow, he has access to that information. So if Roman does, then why wouldn’t Janus?

Why wouldn’t Janus be aware of Roman’s insecurities? Why wouldn’t he use this to his advantage and spend the entirety of SVS boosting his ego since he knew that’s what he wanted?

What if Janus, being aware of the audience and how they view the Sides, knew that all he needed for his plan to succeed was not only to convince Thomas that he could be trusted, but the audience. He knows that they don’t like him, so what does he do? He puts himself into a much more positive light, while Roman is put into a position where he’s made out to be the bad guy?

And if this was the case, then it worked. A majority of the fandom now loves Janus while Roman is being left behind. He’s the perfect scapegoat, a distraction from the real plans Janus has in store.

But that idea is so far out there and paints Janus as more of an actual villain when really, I don’t think he is at all.

What’s most likely is that we’re going to learn what happened between him and Virgil, and then watch as Thomas and the others rethink their decision to trust him.

I don’t think Janus is evil, this series is constantly pushing the message that everything isn’t all black and white. Janus, like everyone else, just wants what’s best for Thomas but has a different way of achieving that goal.

My hope is that the writers are aware of this and have a plan for Janus’ character to develop more. Because if that isn’t the case and Janus remains a “good guy” from here on out then all of Janus’ previous appearances would be rendered meaningless.

He’d might as well be a completely different character at that point, because the Deceit that I (and many others) became invested in and loved since his first appearance would be gone. Replaced with a softer, less complex, less engaging “uwu soft boi” that now seems to be the fandom favorite.

Which makes me curious, if Janus is revealed to be lying to some degree, and was tricking Patton and Thomas, would everyone go back to hating him again? Would they give him a chance to explain himself and grow, or would they go right back to seeing him as nothing more than the evil villain they believed they were introduced to back in CLBG

Okay, that’s pretty much all I’ve got on this topic. It’s kinda messy by my standards and I’m sure I repeated myself a lot. So you are more than welcome to critique my points and debate them with your own. Just to clarify, I still love Janus. And I stand by the fact that he was the best part of this new episode. I just hope that this isn’t all the development he gets and that he continues to have his ups and downs.

And come on, how could they possibly pass up the opportunity to do the “Liar revealed” trope with the literal embodiment of Deceit?

#sanders sides #janus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #fandom criticism

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tradgicworks · 3 years

Text

Heartfelt: P-2 Heavy Meddle

Anna Hjarta finds herself as the sole witness of a strange disappearance. She decides to help find the missing student, despite how much her academy wants to keep it a secret.

WORD COUNT - 6030

Fast paced heavy metal music blared out of Anna’s headphones. Her short dirty-blonde hair bobbed up and down to the fast paced rhythm. Her grey-blue colored eyes scanned the floor as she picked up any trash that was left behind. She brushed her bangs out of her face revealing a faint scar that ran from her left cheekbone all the way through her left brow. Her music was interrupted by the ringtone of her phone. She tapped her phone and answered the call.

“Yeah?” Anna asked as she continued picking up trash.

“Hey, Anna,” Another volunteer’s voice responded. “I finished up where I’m at. Everyone else is done too, we’re gonna head back for today.”

“Cool. I got the keys with me, I’ll finish here then head back myself. You guys have a good night.”

“Don’t overdo it Anna. Goodnight,” The volunteer said before hanging up the phone.

Her music roared back to life. Anna sighed as she looked at her nearly full trash bag. She pulled down her headphones and turned them off. She laid the bag on the floor and swept the remaining bits of trash into the bag with her leg. She tied the bag up and carried it to the dump.

Despite the academy’s strict rules, disobedience was inevitable- especially the week before winter break. For some reason or another, the academy had a policy of having Juniors and Seniors take their finals early. This was done in order to “encourage the active pursuit of future academic endeavors”. Most students took it as a chance to apply to college, scholarships, or internships. While others treated it as an early vacation or an excuse to party in secret. The abandoned auditorium especially was a hotspot for delinquents. Due to the lack of manpower the academy could not afford to routinely survey the theater during the last week of classes, their focus was on finishing up the preparations for the graduation ceremony after all. As such the troublemakers rebelled in relative comfort, often leaving huge messes. Ultimately, it would be up to the older students to take it upon themselves to volunteer and clean up the mess. Anna Hjarta included.

Anna heaved the trash bag into the dumpster and shut it closed. She took off her work-gloves with a satisfied look. Thunder faintly growled behind her. The sound of rain wafted into her ears.

“Mph,” She thought to herself as she checked her backpack. “I forgot my umbrella.”

Anna stuffed her headphones and gloves back into her bag. She glanced outside through a dirty window. The light of the campus walkway was barely visible through all the rain. Anna frowned and flipped a switch on the wall. The work lights that lined the halls of the auditorium blinked into darkness. Her body froze as she heard a shrill scream echo through the pitch black halls.

“Is someone there?” Anna called out in a hush tone.

She was met with silence.

The muffled sounds of teary cries for help crawled into her ears as she waited for a reply. She flipped the lights back on and ran towards the sound.

“Are you okay?!” She yelled out while trying to find the source of the struggle.

One last shriek rang out before being snuffed short. Anna found herself at the doors of the theater. She tried to open them but felt a strange resistance hold them shut. She slammed against them until they finally swung open. She shook her phone and its flashlight turned on. She found herself in the empty theater, the draped curtains fluttering softly. She surveyed the room in confusion and let out a deep sigh after searching for a few moments.

“I need more sleep,” She muttered.

Anna turned around and began to head back towards the dorms. Her shoe kicked against something and sent it gliding across the floor. She flashed her light at it and noticed a sparkle in the corner of her eye. She walked towards it and picked it up. In her fingers was a small golden bangle bracelet.

“Devoted to our pride and joy, Sophie,” Anna read out the cursive that was written across the back of the bracelet.

. . .

Anna flinched awake to the blare of her phone’s alarm. She sat up and looked at her surroundings groggily. Articles of old clothes laid scattered all across the floor. Her desk was stacked high with medical textbooks- some open, almost all riddled with sticky notes. Her bag hung from the door knob with Sophie’s bracelet attached to it by the zipper.

Anna slowly got out of bed. She walked to the bathroom and began to brush her teeth. When she finished she rinsed out her mouth and splashed some water on her face. She looked in the mirror, her scar had become an ugly streak that burned through her face. She traced it lightly with her fingers and frowned. She pulled out a small makeup bag from underneath her vanity. Layer after layer, she applied makeup on her scar until it returned to the faint seam that it was before. She gave a slight smile as she observed her handiwork. The academy’s morning announcements buzzed to life as she finished up.

“Good Morning, students,” Dr. Ward’s, the headmaster, soothing voice called out. “Yesterday’s rain proved to be heavier than was originally forecasted. Be careful when going between classes as staff have reported significant amounts of mud from the downpour. Furthermore, yesterday also marked the most amount of curfew violations in the academy’s history. A fact that brings me much disappointment. The students who violated the curfew will be called to my office to receive a punishment. You know who you are and you will be contacted privately. Let this serve as a reminder to the rest of the student body that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated again. Now, for today’s agenda…” Dr. Ward began reading out the remainder of the dull announcements.

Anna put away her makeup bag. Her phone began to buzz. She picked it up and read the screen.

“Anna Hjarta. Please report to Dr. Ward’s office at-” Anna raised a brow.

She threw on the cleanest uniform she could find and grabbed her bag as she walked out the door.

. . .

The headmaster’s office was built at the highest point of the campus. Curved stairs lead up to the main entrance. A ramp sloped downwards and cut through the middle of the stairs, allowing access into the library on the bottom floor. Colorful flowers and well maintained shrubs all sprinkled with water droplets from the rain decorated the entrance. Anna made her way to the headmaster's office.

“Excuse me,” She said as she walked inside.

Dr. Ward’s office was incredibly organized. Her large desk was filled with papers- all stacked into neat piles. Two bookshelves filled with all sorts of books, awards, and gifts stood behind her. On the wall was a display case with a beautiful ceremonial dagger stored inside. Behind her was a large window that allowed for a majestic view of the entire campus.

“Anna,” Dr. Ward smiled. “Have a seat.”

“You wanted to see me?” Anna said as she sat down.

“Yes, I did. I wanted to see you and Eva,” Dr. Ward gestured at Eva who sat in the chair next to Anna.

Dr. Ward sat down and opened her laptop. The door to her office swung open and a tall warden walked in with a cup of coffee.

“Thank you, Caroline,” Dr. Ward smiled as she set down the cup.

Caroline replied with a curt nod. Her green eyes were locked into a permanent glare. Her brunette hair was tied into a tight bun. She wore the Warden's uniform which consisted of combat boots, neatly pressed pants, a long sleeved button up shirt with a tie, and a blocky hat. Caroline specifically, wore a small badge and a large coat over her shoulders like a cloak as an imposing way of signifying her position of authority amongst the Wardens.

“I have been informed that both of you entered the dorms after the curfew, is that correct?” Dr. Ward asked while quickly typing.

“That’s correct,” Anna said casually.

“Yup,” Eva clicked her tongue.

“Hmm,” Dr. Ward glanced at the two before continuing to type. “Would you mind enlightening me over why you entered the dorms so late?”

“Lost track of time,” Eva said.

“I was helping clean up the auditorium, my group was scheduled for yesterday and I stayed after to finish up. I ended up getting caught in the rain though,” Anna explained.

“I see,” Dr. Ward said as she typed. "Was there anyone else with you, Anna?"

“There shouldn't have been, everyone else went back early. I only stayed after because I had the keys.”

“Did you notice anything strange on your way back?" Dr. Ward asked.

“What do you mean by strange...?” Anna asked slowly.

“Yesterday there was some unexpected interference with the academy’s security system. Given how many students disobeyed the curfew, I wanted to make sure that no one was up to any mischief while some of the cameras were offline,” Dr. Ward drank from her coffee.

“No, not really. I mean I can’t even think of anyone crazy enough to be out in that rain on purpose,” Anna shrugged.

“You can never be too sure,” Dr. Ward pushed up her glasses.

“Well, actually, there was one thing,” Anna grabbed the bangle bracelet from her bag and held it towards Dr. Ward. “I found this.”

Dr. Ward grabbed it and investigated it. Her face tensed slightly as she read the back of it. She handed it to Caroline who didn’t react.

“Where did you find this?” Dr. Ward glanced up at Anna with a smile, but her eyes turned cold and empty.

Both Anna and Eva shifted uncomfortably at the unusual look in Dr. Ward’s eyes.

“The theater,” Anna replied.

Dr. Ward glanced at Caroline who quickly nodded in reply and walked out of the office.

“Something wrong?” Eva asked with slight meekness.

Dr. Ward’s eyes brightened to her usual comforting shine. “No, nothing is wrong. I am just upset that your more rebellious peers are still using the auditorium irresponsibly. Especially when we both know that they could be doing so much better.”

“I see,” Eva awkwardly replied.

Dr. Ward took a deep breath.

“Thank you ladies for providing some insight into what happened during the storm. Regardless of your intentions, the fact remains that both of you disobeyed the curfew. As such, you will be penalized. The school adheres to its strict guidelines after all and they must be enforced indiscriminately,” Dr. Ward took out two forms and began filling them out quickly.

“What do we have to do?” Anna asked.

“The two of you will be working as receptionists at the freshmen dorms,” Dr. Ward handed a filled out form to Anna and Eva each. “Take these to the front office of the dorm. They’ll give you everything you need and tell you what to do from there. You may leave now,” Dr. Ward instructed before returning her attention to work.

Anna and Eva walked towards the door.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Dr. Ward called out to them as they opened the door. “Try not to get into any more trouble,” She said with a gentle smile.

. . .

Anna’s gaze lingered on the empty hallways. She leaned over the receptionist counter, her cheek resting in her palm. Eva, who sat beside her, groaned and put her feet up on the counter. Anna glanced at her with annoyance.

“Stop that,” Anna said.

“What? My shoes aren’t dirty,” Eva replied.

Dried up mud crumbled onto the counter.

“Not that dirty at least,” Eva yawned.

“It’s just rude to the janitors who have to clean that up,” Anna’s gaze hardened.

“Sheesh, calm down. A little dirt won’t kill anyone. What are you some sort of neat freak?” Eva replied matter-of-factly.

“No,” Anna looked at Eva in her eyes. “I just don’t like dirt.”

Eva put her feet down and sat up straight.

“What do you mean by that?” Her eyes narrowed.

The two stared at each other. Anna grabbed a napkin and cleaned the dirt off of the counter.

“What else would it mean?” She glanced at Eva’s shoes.

“Fine, my bad for bringing in dirty shoes,” Eva took her shoes off the counter. “Sue me.”

“Thank you,” Anna nodded curtly before kneeling down to clean up the dirt.

“You’re a real bleeding heart you know,” Eva commented looking down at her.

Anna didn’t respond, she simply continued until the mess was clean.

Eva looked at her for a few moments before she gave up and went back to playing on her phone.

Anna crumbed up the napkin and threw it into a trashcan. The sound of loud banging erupted from the front doors as it fell in.

“Let me in!” A desperate voice yelled from outside.

“She’s going to break the freaking doors-” Eva growled and stood up.

She quickly walked towards the doors and swung them open just as Gwyneth was about to knock again.

“What are you doing?” Eva grit her teeth.

“Thank you-!” Gwyneth barely got the words in before trying to push her way into the dorms.

“What are you doing?!” Eva roared and shoved her back outside.

“Please- Y-You don’t understand. I need to get in I-” Gwyneth choked on her words. “Please, please, just let me in!”

“No way, you psycho!” Eva barred her from entering.

“Calm down, you’re hurting her,” Anna ran beside her and tugged on her shoulder.

“The hell I am! I’m just stopping her from getting through the door-'' Eva glanced at Gwyneth’s face. “Oh, it's you.”

Eva looked at Gwyneth’s wrists, faint bruise marks were beginning to form.

“Oh,” Eva’s frown grew annoyed.

“That’s why I told you to relax,” Anna pulled Eva behind her and looked at Gwyneth.

“Please let me in!” Gwyneth pleaded.

“Sure,” Anna grabbed her wrists gently. “But first we’re going to take care of this.”

“There’s no time I really have to-” Gwyneth said in between panicked breaths.

“There’s no option, either you come in and I help with the bruising or you don’t come in at all,” Anna gave her a stern look.

“O-Okay, but please hurry!” Gwyneth’s breathing relaxed before she exclaimed.

“I will,” Anna led her inside and behind the receptionist desk.

“Are you crazy? You’re going to take the person who tried to break into the dorms seriously?” Eva exclaimed.

“She wouldn’t be this panicked if it wasn’t for a good reason,” Anna sat Gwyneth down and looked for a first aid kit.

“Wow, I was spot on about that bleeding heart thing huh?” Eva groaned. “What if she’s here to cause trouble or stalk some helpless freshman girl?”

“You really think poorly of people you know,” Anna commented as she prepared an ice bag.

“I’m realistic,” Eva huffed.

“You’re paranoid. All I see is someone in need,” Anna kneeled in front of Gwyneth and pressed the ice bag against her wrist.

“And that’s all you need to be at their beck and call?” Eva sneered.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Anna glared at her.

Eva could only reply with an equally furious look.

“I-I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Gwyneth said meekly. “I’m here to- ah” She squeaked as Anna moved the ice bag to her other wrist.

“I’m worried about my friend, her name is Sophie,” Gwyneth said.

Eva tensed a little upon hearing Sophie’s name.

“What about your friend?” Eva grunted.

“I think she’s in trouble.” Gwyneth said sheepishly.

“No way,” Eva waved her hand dismissively. “The academy’s got security like a prison. If she was in trouble she would have been helped out by one of the Wardens.”

“I know, but I’ve called her so many times and she hasn’t responded once. She didn’t show up to our breakfast meet up and last night she seemed really worried about something,” Gwyneth said, her words growing more frantic.

“Well, maybe you’re just overthinking it,” Eva said apathetically.

“What’s your problem?” Anna glanced at her in a mix of anger and shock.

She turned towards Gwyneth and started wrapping bandages around her wrists. “Why are you so sure she’s in trouble?” Anna asked calmly.

“Sophie’s not like this. She always answers her calls, she's a polite and cheery person. She’s full of optimism and hope and she always does her best to help others. I’ve never seen her act so depressed before, so… docile. I just know something is wrong, it just doesn’t add up...” Gwyneth gazed at the floor.

“Pfft, talk about working off hunches,” Eva muttered.

“I agree,” Anna said as she finished tying her bandages.

“You do?!” Gwyneth and Eva said in unison, relief and surprise in their voice respectively.

“You know the people close to you better than I do. If you really think something is wrong, you should do something about it before you regret not doing anything at all,” Anna stood up and held out her hand. “And I’ll be here to help.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you soooooo much!” Gwyneth leaped up and hugged Anna tightly.

“Woah, okay, okay, I’m just glad I can help,” Anna chuckled. “She’s really soft.” She said towards Eva.

“And I care why?” Eva shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re helping her. What do you even want Gwy- uh... Girl?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Gwyneth let go of Anna. “My name’s Gwyneth, I’m a Sophomore.”

“I’m Anna, a Junior,” Anna replied.

“Eva, same,” Eva mumbled. “So what do you want?”

“I-” Gwyneth paused. “I was planning on visiting Sophie’s room and checking up on her.”

“What floor is she on?” Anna asked.

“Third floor, room 309,” Gwyneth replied.

“Cool, let’s go,” Anna grabbed the master key from behind the counter and headed up the stairs. “You coming, Grinch?” She asked Eva as she stopped on the first step.

“Screw you,” Eva spat before following suit.

. . .

The freshmen dorms were not the nicest on campus, mostly due to how old the building itself was. The steps led up to a view of the many hallways on each floor. Rows and rows of evenly spaced doors lined the walls. Occasional break and study rooms broke the monotony of the layout. Framed paintings of previous headmasters and photographs of the academy’s history dotted the free spaces on the wall. On the opposite end, stood an identical set of stairs leading into the floor below. Anna, Eva, and Gwyneth stepped into the third floor. Gwyneth walked ahead of them and led them to Sophie’s dorm.

“We’re here,” Anna stated as they stood in front of room 309.

Gwyneth stepped forward and knocked on the door.

“Sophie, are you there? It’s me, Gwen,” She called out.

There was no reply.

“Sophie?” She knocked again.

“She’s probably just asleep,” Eva commented.

“At six in the evening?” Anna raised a brow.

“You’d be surprised at how many people hit the hay early,” Eva yawned.

“She’s not answering,” Gwyneth turned towards them.

“Hmm, let me try,” Anna knocked on the door a little rougher than Gwyneth. “Sophie, are you in there?”

The door creaked open on her last knock.

“You broke it,” Eva scoffed.

“It just happened on its own,” Anna replied with a tinge of panic.

“Well, no use crying over it now,” Eva swung open the door and gestured for them to walk in. “After ya’ll.”

They all entered the room. Eva flicked on the light switch and the ceiling lamp hummed to a faint light. Comfy looking bed sheets sat as a messy pile on an unmade bed. The cabinets held half open drawers filled with thrown-about clothes. Makeup, perfume, accessories, and other knick-knacks once neatly organized on the shelves laid scattered across the floor. A torn apart sheet music book with ripped out pages leaned limply against a violin. Gwyneth’s gaze lingered on a corkboard that hung above her drawer. Pictures of Gwyneth and Sophie spending time together were pinned on to it. Dumb drawings that Gwyneth made in a silly attempt of explaining some of her favorite controversies were displayed like badges of honor. The letter she wrote for Sophie’s birthday was neatly held by tiny styrofoam stars. A calendar filled with pretty handwritten notes was to the left of all of that. “Dinner with Gwyneth, yay!” was circled in red marker.

“What a mess,” Eva murmured.

“It looks like someone tore up the place,” Anna said quietly.

“Sophie…” Gwyneth whimpered as she walked to the corkboard and traced her fingers over the memorabilia.

“We need to report this to the principal,” Anna said as she glanced at Gwyneth’s worried face.

“Agreed, the way this room is torn up is way too sketchy,” Eva let out a deep sigh. “The academy seems to be slipping in more ways than one.”

“That’s ominous,” Anna commented.

“Just saying, the schools vow of security ain’t looking so secure right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are other dorms where just about anybody can break into them,” Eva opened the closet. “We could have a real case for false advertising on our hands-” Eva’s words were snuffed into violent chokes.

A woman stepped out of the closet. Her dark gray colored eyes shone with a strange intensity. She held Eva by the neck, nearly lifting her off the ground. Gwyneth shrieked as she grabbed something to defend herself with. Anna hopped over the bed and slammed herself against the woman. The woman grunted in pain as she let go of Eva and struggled to keep her balance. Eva coughed in heavy breaths. The woman took a step forward ready to attack Anna, only to have a stapler thrown against her face by Gwyneth.

“You. Effing. Creep,” Eva yelled in a horse voice.

Eva kicked at the woman’s legs before she could retaliate and tripped her onto the ground. The woman fell with a hearty thud and her body went limp. Eva raised her foot to stomp her face but was stopped by Anna’s hand.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to kill her!” Anna screamed.

“Oh, do not make excuses for the panty stealing weirdo hiding in a sixteen year old’s closet- she deserved this!” Eva yelled back.

“But, she’s already knocked out!” Anna pushed her leg out of the way. “So, we stop!”

“Fine, Goldilocks. Have it your way, but I’m not helping you if she gets up and starts choke slamming you,” Eva rubbed her shin. “Damn, that hurt. Her legs felt like they were made out of steel.”

“W-Who is she anyways and where did you two learn to fight like that?“ Gwyneth asked.

“I kinda just threw myself at her,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

“Kickboxing is a hobby,” Eva replied. “As for the mystery woman…” Eva took out her phone and turned on its flashlight.

The light shone over the face of a Warden. The three of them stared in silence as the realization dawned upon them.

“We are so screwed,” Eva murmured with a deathly serious tone.

“WE KNOCKED A WARDEN UNCONSCIOUS?!” Gwyneth screamed.

“Shut up!” Eva put her hand over Gwyneth’s mouth. “Do you want the whole dorm to know?!”

“I-It’s fine, we can just explain to the principal what happened. T-That this was all just one big misunderstanding,” Anna said in a slightly shaky voice as she sat the Warden up as best as she could

“Oh yeah, sure, and she can kindly explain how many years in prison we’re gonna serve for assaulting a freaking police officer,” Eva gave a panicked chuckle.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” Gwyneth whimpered.

“No effing dur, girly,” Eva commented.

“Calm down, both of you. Worse comes to worst I can just-” Anna started before being cut off by the sound of a radio.

“Warden 06, can you hear me?” A staticky voice called from the Warden’s breast pocket.

Anna, Eva, and Gwyneth looked at each other. Gwyneth gestured to Anna to give her the radio. Anna tossed into her hands and she began to fiddle with it. After a few seconds she held the button to reply. White noise poured out of the radio.

“Warden 06, there seems to be some interference on your end. Do you read me?” The voice asked again.

Gwyneth tilted the radio downwards. The white noise became more chaotic.

“Warden 06, do you read-” The voice got cut off before changing into a deeper, colder, voice. “Warden 06, you are to cease your search of the target’s dorm. We have narrowed down the location of Sophie Dives to the auditorium. Rendezvous there ASAP. Failure to do so will be met with severe punishment.”

The radio went completely silent. Gwyneth took out the batteries and took a shaky breath.

“Sophie’s in the auditorium?” Gwyneth whispered.

“From the sound of it, it looks like they were trying to keep it a secret too,” Eva commented.

“I knew it,” Anna muttered.

“What?” Gwyneth asked.

“Last night, when I was cleaning up the auditorium I heard a scream. I tried to follow it, but by the time I got to the theater all I found was a bracelet with Sophie’s name on the back of it,” Anna stood up. “I think something happened to her.”

“Why didn’t you bring this up before?” Gwyneth frowned.

“Because I thought it was just a coincidence,“ Anna’s face softened. “We have to tell Dr. Ward, if she knows that the Warden’s are acting out of line she might be able to stop them.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but the Warden’s are on the CCPD’s payroll- not the headmaster’s. I doubt they give two craps about what she wants,” Eva said.

“What other option do we have then?” Anna asked.

“We have to go and help her ourselves,” Gwyneth said with a serious tone.

“Are you crazy? She’s being hunted down by the Wardens right now, y’know like actual highly trained cops. On top of that, they’re on high alert, if they find us they’ll rip us to shreds,” Eva furrowed her brow.

“Not exactly,” Gwyneth turned towards her. “I’ve heard rumors that because of all the curfew violations yesterday the headmaster is pissed off at all the Wardens. She wants to make sure that not a single student misses it tonight. Me thinks- I think that they won’t head to the auditorium until after curfew. It gives us some time to break in.”

“You really believe those stupid overblown rumors? Give me a break, they’ll have Wardens posted all over the auditorium,” Eva groaned.

Anna walked to the curtains and opened them up. A view of the auditorium bathed in the light of the setting sun appeared with not a single soul in sight.

“Are you sure about that?” Anna said with a tiny jeer.

“Screw you,” Eva looked away and scratched her head.

“We don't have much time," Anna looked at her phone. "Curfews in three hours. If we're going to help Sophie, we should move now."

"You're still going to help?" Gwyneth asked.

"Of course, it doesn't sit well with me to stay still when someone needs help. Besides, who knows what the Wardens will do to her if one of them was ready to strangle us to death," Anna explained.

"Thank you," Gwyneth said quietly

Anna and Gwyneth looked at Eva who thought in silence. After a few moments she spoke.

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that she's in danger, but yeah, the sooner we find her the better," Eva said curtly.

"I really thought you would say no," Gwyneth said with a slightly stunned face.

"Don't act like you know how I think," Eva scoffed.

"Well, we better head out then. Let's go close up the receptionist's booth first," Anna said as she walked out of the dorm.

"Ever the worrywart," Eva grumbled.

. . .

Day began to bleed into night by the time they arrived at the auditorium. The weathered down entrance was chained and locked shut by a simple key lock.

“They locked it,” Anna stated bluntly.

“I guess this really means that Sophie is in here,” Gwyneth said with a worried face.

“Well she won’t be trapped here for long,” Eva said as she took out some of the bobby pins that held up her hair and kneeled beside the floor.

“What are you doing?” Gwyneth asked.

“Picking the lock, duh,” Eva replied as she started unlocking the door and blew some of her loose hair out of her face.

“Where did you learn that?” Anna asked.

“Would you believe me if I said daycare?” Eva turned around with a smirk as the lock clicked open. “We’re in.”

“Follow me,” Anna walked into the auditorium and towards the theater.

The work lights from the day before stood in the exact same spot. Anna turned them on, lighting the auditorium with a musty light. The three walked at a brisk pace while still scanning each room they came across, before turning towards the theater. Anna opened the door and looked at the rows of dimly lit seats.

“The only place I didn’t check yesterday was backstage,” Anna said as she made her way down the stairs and climbed onto the stage.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Eva muttered as she read the scratches on the podium.

Anna walked in between the curtains and into the dark backstage. She turned on her flashlight. Old props and backgrounds littered the floor. Rusting clothing racks filled with forgotten costumes loitered throughout the backstage. A large grandfather clock leaned against boxes stacked up high. The word “John” was painted onto it, it’s time was stuck at 3:13 PM.

“Wow, it's a whole lot of nothing,” Eva said loudly as she leaned against the grandfather clock.

“We at least have to try to look for her,” Anna said as she started searching the mess.

“But, there really is nothing here, Anna,” Gwyneth said sadly.

“We don’t have much time left either,” Eva glanced at her watch. “We should just head back and try again tomorrow before they catch us and we can’t try at all,” She looked at Anna, her long hair fluttering slightly in a soft breeze.

“Yeah... good idea,” Anna said with a slightly dejected tone before turning towards Eva. “What’s wrong with your hair?” Anna asked suddenly.

“What? I was too lazy to tie it back up after picking the lock,” Eva replied dismissively.

“No, why is it moving,” Anna asked again before walking towards the grandfather clock herself.

She felt around it looking for the source of the breeze. Eventually she found a small crack in the wall. Cold air trickled out of it slowly.

“Help me move this thing,” Anna said towards Eva and Gwyneth as she started trying to move the grandfather clock out of the way.

“This is heavy,” Gwyneth panted as she pushed as hard as she could.

“Just push,” Eva commented as she led the clock onto the floor. “Now what?” Eva asked Anna.

Anna picked up a broken off leg of a chair from the floor and smashed it against the crack. The wall crumbed into wet clumps of drywall that revealed the entrance to a tunnel.

“A tunnel?” Anna murmured.

“You are amazing at breaking things, y’know that,” Eva said blankly.

“D-Do you think that Sophie could be in there?” Anxiety lumped in Gwyneth’s voice.

“If this was a horror movie, sure, but to me that just looks like an effing death trap,” Eva shifted uncomfortably.

“We have to check,” Anna took a deep breath before stepping inside.

“Are you crazy?!” Eva grabbed her arm. “We have no idea where that leads, if there’s anything even in there or if there’s even a way out.”

“Where else could she be if the Wardens couldn’t even find her?” Anna tugged her arm away from Eva’s grasp.

“I don’t know, but I’m not gonna risk my life to find out,” Eva crossed her arms.

Anna’s breaths stiffened. She glared at Eva who returned the gesture.

“I-” Anna opened her mouth before being interrupted by the muffled echo of classical music.

“Nocturne op.9 No.2, Sophie’s favorite song. She set it as her ringtone…” Anna and Eva turned to face Gwyneth.

She clutched her phone close to her, she had dialed Sophie’s number while they were arguing.

Eva looked into the tunnel. Its jagged walls seemed like they were cut into the building itself. Drops of a mysterious liquid fell onto the floor with an unnerving pitter-patter. The end of the tunnel remained a mystery as it curved into an unknown depth.

“Still not doing it,” Eva swallowed nervously.

“Fine, you can stay out here. I’m going,” Anna steeled herself as she turned on her flashlight.

“Me too-” Gwyneth said as she took a step forward.

Her voice skipped into a shriek of terror. Anna and Eva turned around to see Caroline holding Gwyneth up by her hair.

“Warden 06 was right, there were some rats in the theater after all,” Caroline leered.

Anna sprinted past Eva and tried to help Gwyneth only to get kicked in the stomach. She fell onto the floor and curled up into a ball as she clutched her burning stomach.

“Let me go!” Gwyneth shrieked and tried to kick herself free.

Caroline swiftly jabbed her in the abdomen before dropping her. Gwyneth gasped as air escaped her lungs.

“And you?” Caroline turned towards Eva, her eyes glowing an ethereal dark green.

Eva looked at Anna and Gwyneth whimpering on the floor. Her face hardened.

“They didn’t deserve that,” Eva grit her teeth as she raised her fists.

“Hmm,” Caroline stepped over the two and towards Eva with her hands behind her back. “But Miss Sophie did?”

“Don’t act like you know everything, you crap shoveling pig!” Eva yelled as she jabbed at Caroline.

Caroline caught her first and pulled her close before headbutting her. The strength of the blow forced Eva onto her knees.

“Oh, Eva,” Caroline said in a condescending tone and got closer to her. “We know everything,” She whispered.

Caroline pulled back her fist. Eva sluggishly looked upwards, unable to move. She closed her eyes as Caroline swung at her face.

"You’re not hurting her anymore," Anna's shaky voice said.

Eva opened her eyes to see Anna holding Caroline's shoulder back to stop her from punching her.

"How persistent," Caroline said in an unamused tone as she elbowed Anna in her side.

To her surprise Anna didn't budge.

"You have no idea," Anna grunted as she stomped on the back of Caroline's knee.

Caroline hollorred in pain as she crumbled onto her knees.

"Take Gwyneth into the tunnel!" Anna screamed, struggling to hold Caroline down.

Eva looked at Anna stunned at how much she was fighting back. She groggily stood onto her feet.

"Hurry up and go!" Anna yelled again.

Eva's face burned into a furious frown. She closed her fist and grit her teeth before punching Caroline’s face with the full force of her body.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Eva roared as her fist collided with Caroline.

Anna let go of Caroline with barely enough time to evade the blow. Caroline held her bloodied nose as she struggled to move.

"Come on, Goldilocks," Eva said as she leaned Gwyneth on her shoulder.

Anna quickly grabbed Gwyneth's other shoulder. The two limped into the tunnel as fast as they could. Waves of frigid air poured out of the cracks of the tunnel as it curved deeper and deeper into darkness. The ground under their feet morphed from concrete to something squishy and wet. A sense of dread creeped down Anna's neck as the air became thinner. Sophie's ringtone distorted and echoed into noise before suddenly extinguishing into a deafening silence.

"Eva, can you see anything?" Anna asked loudly, her voice reverberating in her ears.

"I can't see shi-" Eva yelled in reply before suddenly screaming out of panic.

Anna felt the ground underneath her crumble into nothing. Her screams echoed endlessly as she plunged into absolute darkness.

#oc #ow #writing #mystery #thriller #horror #action #anime inspired #female protagonist #heartfelt #cw violence #cw injury #I wrote Caroline as Coraline like 24 times in the rough draft. I blame Neil Gaiman

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jace-todd · 3 years

Text

Slack

@oh-faithful-inner-demons this is totally not about the headcanon you posted a little bit ago, pssh totally not but uhh enjoy anyway~ I tried to use some of your headcanons in this too!! Sorry if it's not that good- I decided to go with the first part of the headcanon, becoming slack in a hug to focus on Aizawa and Hitoshi's relationship as Father-Son but I'm still open to writing a second piece-

Word count: 2,069

You can read it online right here on my Archive

warning for bullying, jumping (as in bullies cornering a student after school hours to beat on them, i'm sorry hitoshi), neglectful parents, abandonment

There were only two people in the whole world who knew how weak Hitoshi was for affection. Affection was never something Hitoshi got a lot of when he was growing up. His parents were firm believers that vulnerability would only aid in you getting soft and getting yourself killed out there in ‘the real world.’ When he was four, not long after his quick manifested, all of the early affection he received to keep childhood development on path disappeared altogether. Maybe every now and then, his mother would ruffle his hair when she’d finish a long shift at the hospital - too tired to even remember her hatred.

At school, without friends, Hitoshi didn’t get to experience friendly hugs. He didn’t have that one friend who’d practically vibrate in their seat when he’d enter the room in the morning, calling out his name with greetings and asking all about his previous afternoon. That one friend didn’t exist so they never pulled him close in between classes, an arm thrown over his shoulders, talking loudly in his ears to combat Hitoshi’s natural silence. That one friend who understood that Hitoshi didn’t feel comfortable talking - not with his quirk as villainous as it was, not with his quirk putting up the risk it did merely by interacting with anyone. That one friend who’d sit next to him at lunch, against a tree, their entire body shoved against his side - completely foreign to something called personal space.

What he got instead were people leaving the seats around HItoshi empty every year, too afraid to go near the kid with the villainous quirk and the absent parents and the snarky personality. They whispered behind his back rumors about how he was the one that leaked the test results two weeks ago, he was the one that made Miyuki punch Kako in the fact yesterday after she hung out with him. The only kind of company and touch Hitoshi received were pushes in the hallways and jumpings behind school. Instead of hair ruffles Hitoshi’s hair would be held tight in a fist to maneuver back to punch him in the face. Instead of hands holding his, feet ground against them until he broke his promise to not show signs of weakness. Instead of hugs, arms kept him from slumping to the ground hit after hit landed.

After a while, Hitoshi stopped expecting to get affection from anyone. It became easier to expect the worst, assume that anyone who got close only wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, it made Hitoshi’s life easier - knowing the world already wanted to hurt him prepared him for the worst. It prepared him for when his parents up and left two weeks before he started UA - no real explanation, just a final argument between him and his father that ended with Hitoshi silently heading to his room and hiding. When he came out for his work-out the next morning, their rooms were empty and money was left on the counter.

Life really became lonely after that. School was awkward and quiet - coming home to an empty house made it seem even worse. At least when his parents were still around, one of them would be home by the time he got back from school. They wouldn’t greet him but at least Hitoshi knew someone was there. Now though, there were no one to glance in his direction, to eat dinner with, to awkwardly stare at when they found each other in the middle of the night doing their own thing. He had the entire place to himself.

Then Eraser-head started mentoring him. After the Sports festival, being pulled aside during homeroom to talk to his favorite hero had felt like a fever dream. The minute he walked away, Hitoshi pinched his arm three times just to be completely sure that it wasn’t. Starting up training had been learning where Hitoshi’s boundaries were, being taught how to use Aizawa’s - Aizawa, Hitoshi gets to call his favorite hero by his name - original capture device, and figuring out their own dynamic. Every minute kept Hitoshi on his toes, exhausted with lack of sleep and too much working out, but more energetic and happy than he’d been in years.

Their interactions started out as just mentor-mentee. Aizawa was trying Hitoshi to get into the hero course, to get enough strength and control to impress the Board, Hitoshi was learning everything he could from his idol. It was strictly business. And then Aizawa broke first, offering Hitoshi a trip to get some food and water down at a cat cafe, not even two blocks from the school. Hitoshi had flushed, unused to any sort of attention from the hero outside of these training sessions. He had agreed without thinking too much and for the next two hours, Hitoshi found himself pouring out more information about himself than he’d told anyone in his entire life.

Two days later, Hitoshi perfected one of the hardest maneuvers to learn after only a month. Aizawa had given him that weird smiling-but-not-smiling thing of his and reached out. He initially flinched away, expecting the worst but the hand just slowed down. A moment later, it dropped onto his head and ruffled his hair. Hitoshi did not tear up. He didn’t, really. If there was one lesson his father taught him that stuck was that crying meant vulnerability and weakness. However, Hitoshi did feel lightheaded at the sudden affection.

Aizawa ever-observant kept it on his head a moment or two too long before letting go, nodding in the direction of their jungle gym, telling him to get going.

The next couple of months passed pretty much the same. Slowly, Aizawa integrated casual affections into their interactions. Whenever Hitoshi did something well, Aizawa ruffled his hair. When Hitoshi smiled, Aizawa gave it back. Eventually, when Hitoshi started to open up, Aizawa did the same - it was a sign of trust. They were going good - Aizawa and Hitoshi had what he was slightly afraid to call a father-son dynamic, Hitoshi was already admitted into the hero course, Aizawa was getting through physical therapy steadily and surely.

And then Aizawa came into their usual weekend breaks to the cat cafe with a manilla folder. Hitoshi was pressed against the back of the cat cafe, sipping at the strong coffee he had ordered when he arrived, stroking the back of the tabby on his lap, reading the latest comic he got his hands on. When the little ding of the door closing rang out, he lifted his head out of the pages to see who it was. Aizawa lifted a hand in greeting, heading straight to him rather than get his usual strong coffee and retrieval of his favorite cat.

Immediately, Hitoshi felt a pit rise in his stomach. This was it, this was where Aizawa decided Hitoshi wasn’t fit to be in the hero’s life anymore, wasn’t fit to be a hero, that he had come to his senses and Hitoshi would be nothing more than a low-life villain. He stuffed the comic back into his bookbag, careful with it despite the way his hands were starting to shake and he was getting light-headed. “Aizawa-Sensei? Is everything okay?”

Aizawa slid into the seat across from him, “Everything’s fine, Hitoshi. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” He didn’t want to take a deep breath. What he wanted was for Aizawa to just rip the bandage off so he could leave. One of Aizawa’s hands disappeared from view for a moment before coming back with one of the fidget toys he kept around for his kids. In a sign of peace, he put it in the middle of the table and Hitoshi took it, swiftly working it over with practiced ease.

It worked well to calm him down enough to hear what Aizawa wanted to tell him. “What’s in the folder, Sensei?”

The teacher flipped it around so that it was facing Hitoshi before opening it. “See for yourself, kid.” Staring back at Hitoshi in big bold letters were the words ‘Report of Adoption.’ The world stopped as Hitoshi read through it all. His biological parents had been contacted and had signed over custody already, Aizawa and Yamada’s information were nearly completely filled out except for the very last signature, which left only Hitosh’s section empty.

“Are...Are you serious?” He couldn’t look away from the papers, going through them over and over again just to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. Surely, there was his mother’s signature and then his father’s. On the other page, neat Shouta Aizawa stood above Hizashi Yamada.

Aizawa nodded, “I’m completely serious. It’s only logical considering your living arrangements and the multitude of arising issues as you enter the hero course next year. Hitoshi, you deserve to have someone who cares about you and whether you make it home safely or not. Hizashi and I have already spoken it over and we’ve contacted our lawyers. Before we continue anything else, I needed to tell you. Do you consent to being adopted by Hizashi and I?”

Did he consent? Did he consent to being taken in by the hero that kept Hitoshi going his entire childhood? Did he consent from having to leave the one place that was always home to him to move to a brand new location, a brand new layout, a brand new family? Everything between them would change again. He would have to readjust, find himself and where their limits were - surely, they would have rules and strict No’s for him. Maybe they’d regret adopting him not even a week into their legal adoption and then it’d all be for nothing. Maybe Eri would fear him and he’d leave. Not that he’d mind it. Eri and her had interacted plenty of times but he knew he made the little girl uncomfortable.

But Hitoshi wanted it. He wanted it more than he’s ever wanted anything in his entire life. Hitoshi wanted to wake up to Hizashi’s singing in the mirrors as he cooked breakfast. He wanted to wake up to his own cat pressed against his side. He wanted to step out of his room in the morning, dressed for the hero course, and see Eri leaving her own room, smiling up at him while he smiled down. He wanted to be able to walk home with Aizawa after training rather than have to go separate ways every day. Above all else, Hitoshi just wanted to be loved.

“I- I consent.” Aizawa’s smile was toothy and a little lopsided but Hitoshi didn’t really see it past his own tears. He hadn’t cried since he was six and had scraped his knee badly enough to need a hospital trip. This was the biggest thing in his life, the biggest change surpassing the hero course with ease.

The cat had already scurried off, leaving Hitoshi’s hands and lap free once he dropped the fidget toy. He stood up, rounding to Aizawa’s side. The hero stood up as well, and Aizawa reached a hand out to ruffle his hair no doubt. No more did Hitoshi flinch but he didn’t let the hand reach him. Instead, Hitoshi threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Aizawa’s shoulders, tucking his head in the crook of his arm and Aizawa’s neck. Aizawa returned the hug, holding on even tighter than Hitoshi was, one hand on his back and the other curled around purple hair.

He let the emotions and relief finally escape him, completely silent sobs racking his body as he went limp, letting the hero hold his weight for him. Aizawa grunted, planting his feet more strategically before shushing him, “I’ve got you, Hitoshi, you’re safe, you’re okay.”

Aizawa didn’t budge under Hitoshi’s weight - even if the teen was nearly as tall and as heavy as the hero was, steadily starting to surpass him even. For nearly five minutes they stood there, Aizawa supporting both their weights, talking softly to Hitoshi the entire time, telling him to let it out, that he would be there and so would Hizashi no matter what Hitoshi needed. Unfortunately, Aizawa’s straining muscles eventually caused them to both slide to the floor, still gripping each other tight, Hitoshi slack in his arms.

They didn’t need to move anytime soon so Aizawa let the kid remain there. After all, it was about damn time Hitoshi got some well-earned affection.

#shinsou hitoshi #aizawa shouta #hannah's writing

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duhragonball · 3 years

Note

Launch?

Give me a character and I will answer:

Why I like them: I think the main appeal to the character is that she doesn’t take any shit from anybody. The blue version of Launch is pretty passive, but she also knows that anyone who messes with her for too long is going to have to deal with the blonde version.

To go a little deeper, I think there’s an enigmatic quality to Launch that draws people in. We have no idea why she changes hair and personality when she sneezes, and we don’t know where she came from or what she was up to when she dropped out of the Dragon Ball story. This sort of ties into something I’ve always maintained about the Vegebul ship: the main fascination lies in how much we don’t know. The audience is left wanting answers, and has no choice but to invent those answers for themselves.

I decided to look for information on sneezing in Japanese culture, just to see if I could find some insight into the character. I had a hunch that there must be some figure of speech about a volatile person changing moods as often as they sneeze, or something like that. What I found instead was the superstition about a sneeze meaning that someone must be talking about you. I didn’t think this had anything to do with Launch, but then I found out the superstition goes a little deeper. If you sneeze once, then someone must be saying something nice about you, but if you sneeze twice, then someone’s saying something bad about you.

So that might be what Launch is based upon. When she sneezes, someone must be saying something nice about her, and she becomes nice in turn. But on the next sneeze, she turns bad, just as someone must be saying bad things about her. Really, though, she turns the whole superstition on its ear, because of all people, no one’s ever talking about her while she sneezes. They’re always watching her with breathless anticipation.

Anyway, I think it’s her lack of a coherent character arc that intrigues people. You can sort of piece something together, but nearly all of her appearances in the anime are filler scenes, so it’s almost a guarantee that you’ll be putting more thought into it than the writers. That scene where she’s working in a food truck could mean that she’s gotten her life in some kind of order, but with her, there’s really no telling.

Why I don’t: I find the lack of hard information about Launch frustrating at times. I feel like there’s some awesome throughline that I should be able to find that would define the character in some profound kind of way. Mark Waid could figure it out, I bet. I still need to read his run on Archie. He probably did some 4D-chess character study on Coach Kleats or something that would blow my mind. I’m sorry, this is supposed to be griping about Launch and instead I’m griping about how envious I am of Mark Waid. Uhhhh... I dunno, maybe she shouldn’t be stealing stuff all the time.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): I can’t think of anything better than the episode where she’s getting drunk over Tien’s death in the Saiyans Saga. It’s a great followup to their last encounter, where she wanted him to join her in robbing banks, and he wasn’t interested.

Death wasn’t that big a deal for TIen in the long run. He just ascended to the next plane and trained under King Kai, just like how he trained under Kami in the year leading up to the Saiyan invasion. But for Launch, it’s a big deal, because he’s finally gone somewhere she can’t follow. And at last, she begins to understand why Tien isn’t interested in stealing money.

And then... nothing. She shows up again at the end of the Kid Buu fight, giving zero indication as to what’s happened in between. What happened to her? You decide, because Mark Waid costs too much money to hire, and I sure got no clue.

Favorite season/movie: Probably the Tien Shinhan Saga by default, since her fascination with Tien is probably the biggest character development for her. And she figures into this weird glitch between the anime and the manga. See, the manga version of the 22nd Budokai is much shorter, so Launch never leaves the hospital after they take Yamcha there to deal with his broken leg. You don’t even see her until the final match, where she, Bulma, and Yamcha are listening to the play-by-play on the radio. But in the anime, the tournament is drawn out over a few days, and she watches all of Tien’s matches in person, and even attempts to murder Chiaotzu. So it’s a weird deal, which is perfect for Launch.

Favorite line: Probably the line where she explains what happens to her when she sneezes, since it’s the only concrete evidence that she’s aware of her double personalities. Blonde Launch sometimes goes “awww, no!” when she feels a sneeze coming on, but that could only mean that she hates sneezing, even without knowing what it means. But Blue Launch knows she has another self, which means the Blonde one must be aware of this as well.

Favorite outfit:

It gets no better than the black shirt and army surplus pants.

OTP: Tien. There’s so little we know about Launch, so I’m inclined to hang on for dear life to the one thing we do know, which is that she’s very interested in Tien.

Brotp: None. Launch is a very solitary character. She’s the wind.

Head Canon: Not really a headcanon, but a story idea that I couldn’t really work out, but I thought it might be interesting if Launch’s Launchness was like a physical condition that could be imparted upon other people. Like, Bulma gets it, and then she ends up alternating between robbing banks and standing around going “Oh my!” But I wasn’t sure I wanted to reduce the original Launch to that sort of explanation. “Oh, we know what causes this, and it’s something we can turn off.”

This may be why I struggle to come up with story ideas for Launch, because my impulse is to try to invent some neat and tidy explanation for Why She Is Like That, but doing such a thing would force me to choose one possibility and exclude any other, potentially better ideas.

Unpopular opinion: Toriyama forgot about her because there was really nowhere left to go with her at that point in the story. Once DBZ started, the story became less about Goku’s friends and more about Goku’s family, and Chi-Chi basically took Launch’s spot. She was introduced as a foil for Master Roshi, and then got a stint as Tien’s love interest, and then the series progressed to the point where Tien and Roshi were both afterthoughts, so of course Launch was going to become even more of an afterthought.

And this is okay, because this is what happens with supporting characters. Like I was saying, if she actually stuck around, and showed up in every “All-the-side-characters-watch-what’s-happening-on-TV” scene, I don’t think she’d be as interesting as she is with her long, mysterious disappearances.

A wish: I hope my next attempt to write Launch goes well.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: I don’t really have anything to put here.

5 words to best describe them: Enigma wrapped in a mystery.

My nickname for them: Ain’t got one.

#dragon ball #ask duhragonball #launch #lovelypurplefox

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dorksndisasters · 3 years

Text

Session 2

[[<PREV]] | [[NEXT>]]

Let’s pretend I didn’t almost forget about this, ok? Cool? Good stuff.

episode 4 went up on patreon.com/scmalarky, if you want ahead!

players involved: Siana, Ophibwynn, Carric, Uriel

“Should we – we should take this back to the city. Right?” Ophibwynn asks, pausing in the act of cleaning her new golden flute.

Carric shrugs. “I guess?”

“But why?” Uriel sighs. “They’ve already lost it, we could just... make it stay lost?”

“No!” Ophibwynn shakes her head. “No, we’re definitely taking it back. We can’t just keep it all.”

“Oh?” Carric raises an eyebrow, glancing at the flute in Ophibwynn’s hands.

“Finder’s fee,” Ophibwynn replies, after a pause.

Carric laughs. “Alright.”

They find a handcart and load the rest of the stolen goods onto it, and pile Siana in on the top of it all, since she hasn’t yet woken up.

“How long does that mushroom effect last?” Ophi nods at Siana.

“Uhhh...” Carric shrugs. “She’ll be fine. Probably.”

“Alright...”

“Come on,” Uriel says, stalking out of the camp. “If I do not get to keep everything, I would at least like to be in a proper bed tonight.”

Carric and Ophi share a glance and, between them, create a magic sending that will pull the cart for them.

When they arrive at the citadel, the gates are closed and Rarder, the human in charge of the guards at the gate, is leaning over the wall atop it.

“Any chance you can let us in?” Carric calls up.

“Depends,” Rarder yells back down. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“The... missing items?” Ophi says. “We found the bandits that had stolen them.”

Rarder whistles, sounding impressed. “Well.” He turns to yell – roar, maybe, is the better word – down to whoever’s below to open the gate.

He meets them inside and glances over the group, gaze resting on Siana’s sleeping form for a moment. “You’d best take all that over to Captain Aewyth. Annan, you show ‘em the way.”

One of his guards – a human, tanned skin, blonde hair tied back in a ponytail – nods to Rarder as she steps up to the group. “This way.”

They follow her away from the gate.

“So,” Annan says, seeming to relax as they get further from Rarder’s watchful gaze. “Bandits, huh? How did you find them?”

“I took-”

“We found a map,” Carric says quickly, talking over Uriel. “And we thought we’d check it out.”

Annan nods, glancing at Uriel. “Where was it?”

“Out in the woods. Not too far off the path, honestly. Nice little clearing.”

Annan nods again, and the whisper of a frown passes across her face, too quickly for the group to notice.

She leads them to a local command post which, despite the late hour, is still fairly busy with guards coming and going.

“Can we leave – oh, Siana! You’re awake.” Carric looks back to see her sitting up, still fairly groggy.

Annan whistles over a guard. “Keep an eye on this cart until Aewyth works out what needs doing, alright?”

She walks into the building without waiting, and the four hurry in after her.

Annan leads them past the first two doors – one of which is slightly ajar, and sounds of training can be heard coming through it – and to a closed door just off the main hallway. She raps her knuckles against it, and the conversation behind it halts.

“Yes?”

“Rarder sent me,” Annan says, opening the door. “This group found the stolen items.”

“Send them in.”

Annan opens the door and lets the group file in past her.

The office is mostly neat. The desk is not quite covered in small piles of loose notes and empty cups. There‘s a long table along one side with a couple of plants and a small shelf of books on it, upon which a kobold sits, practically bouncing with badly restrained energy.

A magelight hovers in the corner next to the covered window, which seems to be the only source of light in the room. It’s dim, casting a comforting sort of glow.

Annan doesn’t wait to be dismissed before she’s closed the door and left them there.

“So. You found the stolen goods?” Aewyth scans the group.

“Yeah.” Ophi nods. “They were, um, just... outside the city...?

Carric and Uriel engaged in a minor tussle, in which Carric is victorious and holds out the map.

“Found this,” she says, and passes it over. “But we brought them back in, they’re in a cart just outside.”

The kobold shifts to sitting cross-legged, leaning forward with his hands on his ankles, studying the group with unabashed curiosity.

“Who are you?” Carric asks.

“Bituin,” he replies, grinning.

“You don’t... need to pay him any attention,” Aewyth says.

“Wrong, you should pay me lots of attention. I know things.”

“Yeah?” Carric smiles. “What do you know? Anything interesting happen recently?”

Bituin hesitates, appearing to think. “Oh!” He smacks his tail off the table beside him. “Yeah! There was someone new in the city last night. They came in near the waygate, but not through it. That interesting?”

“Did you see them?”

“Yeah, they were all dark ‘n’ mysterious! Wearing a cloak that reached the ground, I couldn’t see their feet at all.”

“Bituin.” Aewyth casts him a slightly tired look.

He giggles and pulls back against the wall.

“I am. sorry about him.” She rubs her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Tell me – was the Hanging of the Empress amongst the stolen items?”

“The Hanging... I don’t think so.” Ophi shakes her head.

Siana sits upon the floor and pulls out a bag of runemarks. “It wasn’t, but if I just...” She passes them from hand to hand and then pools them across the floor.

The others move back, giving her space to work.

Bituin rocks forward onto his knees and peers down, and his eyes seem to glow briefly before he blinks.

“It’s... it’s the reason everything was stolen,” Siana says. “It’s long gone.”

Aewyth leans back in her chair, sighing. “Right. Thank you. I... will pass that on. And get everything back to its original owners.”

“Ok, uh – we'll... be at the Knave and Cauldron? I guess?”

Ophi winces. “I am so late for my shift.” She turns to hurry from the room and the building.

The other three follow her, Siana hurriedly picking up her runes and piling them back into their pouch.

They’re partway across the square in front of the command post when Bituin comes running after them.

“You dropped this!” He holds out a note to them.

“Thanks?” Carric takes it. “I don’t think we did, but – he's gone.”

Bituin has darted off down a side street, disappearing in an instant.

She unfolds the note and squints at the elegant writing.

This is the last of the items from Malpha that we need you to acquire. Once this is completed, we no longer require your services; your reward is on its way. Keep out of sight, and await any further orders.

It is unsigned, but the front of the note is addressed to “Aelfswild”.

“That’s... that’s the guy we bought the gems from,” Carric says. “Right?”

“Think so.” Siana shrugs. “It doesn’t say who it’s from?”

“No.” Carric passes the note to Uriel, who inspects it closely.

“Well, he might be at the Knave and Cauldron,” Ophi says, all but running ahead of them. “So come on!”

The sun is mostly set by the time they arrive.

Aldehrt, the owner of the inn, grunts at them as they arrive, and gestures Ophi to the small stage.

She dives up there, shedding her bag and coat on the way, and stumble to a halt at the seat, pulling out her carrot flute to start up a jaunty tune.

“Do you know Aelfswild?” Siana asks. “He was in here last night, with an elf.”

Aldehrt frowns. “You think I know everyone that comes in here?”

“Well-” Siana starts.

“I don’t, alright? Don’t know the name.”

“Maybe we could jog your memory?” Uriel asks, before Carric can quiet her. She’s spinning a knife between her fingers, and her tarantula is sitting on her shoulder.

“She doesn’t - she doesn’t mean that,” Carric says, pushing Uriel’s hand down. “But do you know someone who might know where to find him?”

Aldehrt narrows his eyes, drawing his shoulders up like he’s squaring for a fight.

Ophi, from the stage, bleeds a little bit of magic into her flute playing, and a calming sensation takes over the room.

“Bondua,” Aldehrt says, still a little gruff. “He’s not here tonight, but he knows everyone.”

“Thank you,” Carric replies. “Appreciated.”

She pulls Uriel with her and Siana to a table out of the way. “So.”

Siana pulls out her runes again, placing the note on the table and tipping them over it. “Looks like this is from an elf sorcerer.”

“Not from here, I’m guessing. Not if everything’s going out of town.”

Siana nods and tosses her runes again, but doesn’t get anything new.

As Ophi finishes her shift, she talks to a few of the regulars, asking some questions. When she sits down with the group, a tray of drinks in hand, she announces that the Hanging of the Empress – a tapestry depicting one of the Elder Gods in their high form – was formerly displayed in the Scriptorium, before it was stolen.

The group decide to head there in the morning, and proceed to down their drinks and find their rooms to crash in.

Over breakfast, the four decide to put together disguises and fake their way into the Scriptorium as religious personages from out of town.

The Scriptorium is an imposing building. It’s taller than the others around it, and built of heavy stone blocks, without any kind of intricate moulding or design.

Siana stares up at the slanted roof and thinks about climbing up there to see across the city.

Ophi tugs her attention back to the door of the Scriptorium as they reach it, and Carric knocks.

The doors are closed; it’s early, maybe even too early.

Carric knocks again, and Uriel gleefully calls out, “Open up, or we’ll kill you!”

“No we won’t,” Carric hisses.

Uriel shrugs.

The door opens, just a crack, and Uriel brightens up.

“See? I knew it would work!”

“Can I... help you?” The kobold squints up at them and pulls back into the shadow of the door, out of the soft morning light.

“We’d like to talk with... with whoever’s in charge,” Carric says. “Important matters.”

“And you are?”

“Visiting dignitaries?” Ophi suggests. “I mean – we're. From a religious branch. Out of town.”

“Yes,” Siana says, her eyes still on the roof. “We’d like to talk things over. About the heights we can reach.”

The kobold squints at them and hums. “You two.” He points at Carric and Uriel. “You can come in.”

“What did we do?” Ophi looks affronted.

“Limited visitors,” the kobold replies. “I’m sure you understand.”

Carric glances back and shrugs at Ophi and Siana as she follows Uriel and the kobold in.

Ophi tries to follow, but gets the door shut in her face. “Huh.” She turns to Siana. “So... what should we do?”

“I can climb it.” Siana was still staring up at the roof.

“I think... I think that might make it worse.” Ophi crouches to pick up Gordon. “But if we can get Gordon through a window, maybe he can help. Somehow.”

Siana nods and circles around the corner of the building and into the slim alley. “Here, pass him over.” She looks up at a window, a little above the low building next to them.

Ophi passes over the rabbit and steps back as Siana scales the side of the building with relative ease.

She sets Gordon on the window ledge while she jimmies the window open, and leans in to drop the rabbit onto the floor.

“Alright,” Siana murmurs, as she drops back to the ground. “He’s in.”

Ophi nods. “Back to the inn?”

Siana glances up at the roof again, and sighs. “Alright.”

Inside the Scriptorium, Carric and Uriel are led through tall, straight corridors with only a few off shooting paths.

He knocks at an unadorned door and waits for the person inside to call him to enter. “I have visiting dignitaries. They’re like to speak to you.”

“Let them in, then.”

As they enter, Gordon comes hopping down the corridor, and Carric crouches to pick him up. Her own familiar, a wren, hops down her arm to greet Gordon, and something seems to pass between the two of them.

All the grandiose austerity of the scriptorium comes to a head in this room, which seems too large for the person sitting behind the slab of a desk.

She seems young. Lightly tanned skin, round glasses, auburn hair that almost impossibly fades to purple at the ends. She’s already watching them as they enter the room. There’s only a few things on the desk that she could have been paying attention to before they entered, but it isn’t clear which held her attention.

“Visiting dignitaries? We weren’t informed of any visitors coming our way.” She doesn’t stand up to greet them.

“Surprise visit,” Carric replies, smiling. “You are...?”

“Autag. I run the manuscriptorium. That will be all.” She flicks long fingers in the kobold’s direction.

The kobold leaves them, closing the door in his wake.

“We’re investigating the thefts,” Carric says. “I believe the Hanging of the Empress was taken from here?”

Autag stiffens, almost imperceptibly. She spreads out her fingers, like she’s merely stretching them. “Where did you hear that?”

“Aewyth,” Uriel says, and Autag almost frowns. “We managed to find some of the stolen goods on our way into the city. I am sorry that the hanging wasn’t amongst them.”

“I suspect it is long gone. It has been two weeks, after all.”

Carric clears her throat. “Have you any clues? About how it might have been taken.”

Distaste flashes across Autag’s face. “I suspect an inside job. There was a kobold who was more interested in it than his work.”

“What happened to him?”

“He disappeared, not long after the Hanging was stolen. I should have known. He was hired as a favour to someone, but he wasn’t quite so particular about the job as I was told.” She lets out a chuckle. “Well; he wasn’t particular about the job I gave him.”

“Do you remember who asked you to hire him?” Uriel is stalking the room, studying the edges of it like she’ll find something out of place.

“... No.” Autag watches her, face carefully blank.

Carric closes her eyes, focusing. Her familiar stands on her shoulder and whistles an odd, fluting tune.

Its eyes glow, its feathers darkening into a swirling sort of implacable void as her patron speaks through it.

“Į̵̪͚͚͈͙̦̝̓̀̐͌ ̸̡̢̮̯̖̙͌̎̑̃̌̊́́͛͌̿͐͠͠͠à̶̡̧̭̣̮̥̠̠̲͉̥̘́̉̋̚m̸̧̘͚̜͍̰̭̳̼͔͌̌̈́͑̏̔̊͘ͅ ̷̨̛̥͉͇͖̉̅͂̄̎͋͗͜l̵͓̇͐̋í̵̧̦̭̠͍͚̲͕̙͍͇̕͜ͅs̷̢̧̭̠͚̖͙͈̱̹͍̤̝͍̋̐͘͝t̶̳̯̪́̿̈̒̑̑̏̈́̀̕͝ȩ̵̛̰̞̣̭̤̝̫͉̞̜̺͆̍͌̋̍̋̓̔́͋͒͝͝ͅͅn̵̡̧̳̝̪̭̪̬̰̾̀́̚ì̷̢̻̩̜̬̹n̸̢̛͇̝̺̯̗̱͍͙͓̍͆́̀͂̚g̴̟̳̞̖̪͉̙̦̭̱̮̤̈́̒͛̓̉̎͌̚͘.”

“Can you tell me who hired this kobold?” Carric asks.

Autag is watching, curious.

The wren tilts its head, and after a pause, “T̴̨̧̞̬̭̲̯̣̰̥̲̙͒̇̌̉̎̂̈́̎̇͛̂͋̍ĥ̸̞̻̣̬͚̟̝̟̞̩̈́͂͂͘͜e̶̜̓̓́́̀̉i̸̹̬̗̙͎̳͉̙̫̞̹̐̇̄̈́́̽̊́̒͌͗ͅr̵̠͔͇͗ ̷̡̡̢̡̨̘͚̬̬̠̹͕̞̂̀̒̅̽̾͋̏̓̕̕͝ņ̷̘̜̥͎͈̟̰̈̂̄ą̶̛̖̼̫̫̦̳̗͈̓̋̎̈͑͒̈́̓̈͘m̵̯͓͔͈̰̘̤̖̝̙̜͉̾̉̌̓̓̇̀̃̀̀͘͠ě̶̢̨͉̠̳̭̝͚͖̻̫̓̆̌͐̋̒͗̀̿͑̕͝͝ ̸̬̭̻̦̥̱̿͆͌̈̾̅͂̕̕͝ȉ̵͙̜̣͈̯̰͚͎̍͋̒̇̂̊̐̕ͅͅs̶̡̡̢͉͇͙̝̞͚͚̦̿̌͋̈̄́̆̀̔͋̅̈́̐͝ͅ ̴̢̛͉̠̟͎͇̒̍̐̏̿̅͂̂͑̒̐̄Ǐ̷̩̗͓̗̲̫̰̜͍̜̪̹́͊̀̄͋͆̓̐̇̽̏͝͝l̴̡̧̬̘̰̲͎̝̖̬̖̥̙̂̿́̓̋̀̽̎͛͜͝r̵̛͖͈̭̝̱͕͚̟͎͎͚͆͛̀̌̋̅̿́̔̓͗̀̎͠ͅǫ̵͖̹̝̦̗̮̱̤̦̤̦̥̟̫͐͂̍̉̀̋̀̉̄̊̽̊m̷̡̳̟̞̬̞̬̳͚̻͈̖͛͛̊̄͒͜͝ͅĭ̵̢͈̮̻̖͍͓̲̟̱̫̇̓̋͂̂̍͒̃̓̃.”

Gordon shifts like he wants down.

“Nothing more?” Carric asks, relaxing her arms.

Gordon drops onto the ground and lollops over to where Uriel is trailing the room.

“Ouch.” Carric presses a hand to her head. “Ok. Thank you.”

The wren whistles again, and returns to normal.

“Uriel.”

Uriel puts down the heavy paperweight – a solid orb of wood – and looks over. “What?”

“We should find the others.” Carric turns to Autag. “Thank you. Are you hiring? To cover the loss of Driany?”

“Are you looking for a job?” Autag’s lip curls. “No. There are no openings.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Carric hefts Gordon back into her arms, and nudges Uriel towards the door. “We’ll not take up any more of your time.”

Autag watches them leave, inscrutable.

They find Ophibwynn and Siana in the Knave and Cauldron; Ophibwynn brightens up considerably as she sees Gordon in Carric’s arms.

“I have an idea,” she says, and takes Gordon back.

Gordon is almost instantly lined with an unearthly glow, becoming less a rabbit and more a rabbit shaped window into the void, much like Carric’s bird had done.

“Where can we find Bondua?”

Uriel almost scoffs, but she falls silent when Carric raises a hand to stop her.

“W̸̨̛̪̠̠̽̄̔͌̌͒̌͐i̴̳̣̍͊̋̾ẗ̴͔̦̫͉̦̖̘̪̯́h̸̙̤̖̹̫͆̌̀͗̈́̃̐́̅̚i̸̧͚̟̼̔n̶̤̤͖̝̥̟̭̞̻̩͇̍̽͆̿ ̷̭̠̬͖͔̘̬̙̠͎́́t̴͎͕͚̠̺̙̘̜̹͔̯̻̯̳̐͑̊̍̒̉̓̎̓̽̓ͅh̶̙̲̠͕̮͛͆͆́̂̐͒̐̑ȩ̸̡̡͖̤͍̦̭̱͚̣̭̿̿̏̈͐̎̇͌͜͜͠ͅ ̷̡̛̰̮̣̱̟̋̎͆͠w̸̛͉͌̚ą̶̰̩̟̘̦̞̭͉͖̪͈̐́̎͌̒͑̅̀͋͝l̷̡̧̡̘̲͈̭͚̳̠̀͑͋͊̊̊̿̑̌̋̅͑̆͠l̸̛̙̦̦͌͆́͛̏̌̅̕s̷̫̀͑͊̓͂̈́͊͆ ̵̡̢͕̹̰̺̱͖̦̀̀̂̽̚o̴̡̤͍̪̥͚͈͓͔̻̔̊f̵̺͒̿͋̊̇̑̊̎͆ ̴̱͓͍́̆̃̊́̍̽̅͂t̵̠̗̪̲̥͖͍͇̮͈͌h̸̙̜̮̗̫̯̥̭͙͉͈͈̫͉̎̒̇̌̚e̷͎̹̻̻͝ ̸̡͕̞̞͚̣̙͕̬͍̟̺̈́̀͜͜S̴̺̖̜̜͇̅̌̌̌̽͐͒̆̈́̈̀͠e̴͇͎̬̊͊̌͂̓͋̒̓͑ř̴̨̧͖̤̗͙͎̻̽͐̀̓̒̒̔̏̕͝ͅp̵̨̪̙̳̟̼̗͍̱͔̺͛̇͌̓̔̚e̴͈̮̤̭̘͉̗̤͙̝̩̫̎̔̎̒̀̔͊͌̃͂͐͘n̴̡̛͙̐̂́́̽̽͋̋̐͠͝͠ͅt̷̄̏̽͗��̡̖̦̲͚͔̲̤̯̲̯̻̫͛̑̀͆̈́̂͋͑ͅ ̵̢̞̪̜̈̓̇̎́̑̀͒̒͌̚͘͠I̶̫̬͍͉̎̅͒̂̈̋̿̈́͆́̈n̶̪̲̱͈͎̙̙͇̻̟͇̪͋̅̐̌͗̇̋̾̈̎͐̿̃̾͜n̴̨̡̢̛̛̤̥͕̝͍̮̎̍̈́͐̔͆̓́̿̊̋.”

“Is that a... wise way to find out?” Siana asks.

“Thank you.” Ophibwynn strokes Gordon’s ears.

“We’ve already made the deals with them,” Carric says. “So we might as well use what we’ve got, you know?”

“The Serpent Inn...” Ophi frowns. “Aldehrt, do you know it?”

He’s walking past their table as she asks. “Sure. It’s in Highlamp. Will you be back for your shift tonight?”

“Probably?” Ophi shrugs. “We... might be onto something here.”

Aldehrt grunts. “Alright.”

Uriel looks up as the rest stand and make their way towards the door. “We just got here!”

“And now we’re going somewhere else. Come on. There’s another inn with drinks at the end of it.”

Uriel stands, grumbling, and follows.

The Serpent Inn is a strange place. They say it was built by an elf in the early days of the stabilised waygate, as either a peace offering or a levelling of the field. It still has those marks of elvish creation, most notably the spells laid like carvings into the woodwork that allow everyone to know each other’s names from the minute they walk past the threshold. Those same spells also prevent offensive magic from being used within the walls.

Elfgild – the current owner, a half-orc – is working on pulling the magic from the walls, but until then, the spells remains.

It is almost noon; the inn is quiet, but for Elfgild behind the bar, and two patrons sitting at a low table in front of one of the arched windows. These are Bondua, an elf, and Coirpre, a half-elf. They’re deep in conversation as the group come closer.

“You really think I can get in, this time?” Coirpre is asking. He seems younger, in attitude and face. Middling brown skin, amber eyes, glasses that half conceal the glyph mark burnt into his skin. His hair is almost amber, shaved close on the sides and swept back on the top.

“Of course,” Bondua replies. His skin is almost ashen grey, his hair piled on the top of his head in a bun of coils, leaving his long ears free to move. “I truly think the Scriptorium is the place you should be.”

“Oh, good luck getting in there, mate,” Carric says, dropping into a seat. “They aren’t hiring.”

Coirpre’s face falls. “Oh.”

Bondua frowns. “Where did you get that information?”

“From Autag. Talked to her this morning.”

“I - uh, I should be going.” Coirpre gets to his feet. “Thank you. I think.”

“Any time, little one.” Bondua smiles almost fondly at Coirpre. There’s something just slightly threatening behind it, like a spider eyeing a fly.

“Let’s get drinks,” Ophi says, attempting to catch Elfgild’s notice.

“What can I do for you?” Bondua sketches his gaze over the four of them as they shuffle seats about.

“We were hoping you could tell us about this,” Carric pulls the note from her pocket and passes it across the table.

He takes it, examines it. “Since none of you are Aelfswild, I do have to wonder where you picked this up.”

“Handed to us by mistake. Do you know who it’s from?”

Bondua shakes his head, accepting one of the drinks that Elfgild brings over.

“Look, we just want to return it to Aelfswild. Seems important, right?” Carric takes a tankard and drinks first.

Bondua hums. “I think I can get it to him, if you like.”

“We’d rather meet him ourselves,” Ophi says.

“Do you know where to find him?” Carric asks, as she casts the smallest truth spell she can, trying to avoid detection.

“I don’t know where he stays. But I know someone who does.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

“Can you... get them to meet us?”

“Why are you trying to get Coirpre into the Scriptorium?” Uriel asks, leaning over. “Did you help to steal-”

“Nothing like that.” Bondua laughs. “I simply think it would be... prudent to have a man on the inside.”

“T̶̺̣̰̑̋̉̌͛̍r̷̡͐͋̆̎͋̿̃̐̿̐̈u̵̡̱̪̟̟̖̼͉͖͍͇̮̺͂̍̋̈̉̆̂̾t̷̡͕͖̼̜̟͍͉́͊̑̊̍́̕͜ͅh̴̢̧̨̺͙̪͇̹̝̼̩̬̝̮̾̍̃̏͛.”

Bondua stands. “I will send for my friend, shall I?”

“Please.”

As Bondua leaves, the group lean in.

“Ok,” Opih says. “What else did you find out in the Scriptorium?”

Carric and Uriel fill them in as they wait for Bondua to return.

They’re eating, when Bondua arrives with Annan in tow, and drinking a little heavily.

There are more patrons now, the place filling up as the afternoon draws on. The influx of names as each one crossed the threshold takes some getting used to, but after a while it becomes easier to tune out. The drinking helps a little.

Annan tenses as she crosses the threshold, whipping her head around to stare at the group.

“Oh, it’s you!” Uriel grins. “Hello again.”

“... Hi.” Annan slips into a seat beside them. “Bondua said you wanted to meet Aelfswild.”

“How do you know him?” Ophi pushes a tankard over to Annan.

“Old friends,” she replies, taking it up.

“And you can take us to see him?” Ophi smiles, leaning back against the chair, head lolling slightly onto Siana.

“... Sure. It’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my shift.”

“Ugh, night shift.” Ophi wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”

Annan laughs, slightly awkwardly. “As long as it pays, right?”

Ophibwynn hums, taking out her current flute and beginning to play half notes.

“In the morning?” Carric asks. “The Knave and Cauldron?”

Annan shakes her head. “The market between Orchard and Crystalfane.”

“Alright.”

Annan glances at Bondua, who smiles cryptically at her. “I’d best be going.”

“Tell your boss not to be such a hardass,” Ophi mumbles past her flute.

Annan laughs, and leaves them to it.

“You won’t be playing your shift tonight, will you?” Siana asks Ophibwynn.

“I can play it here,” says Ophi, and returns to shakily playing her flute.

#dnd #homebrew #campaign

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katierosefun · 3 years

Text

author interview tag game

thank you for the tag, @pandora15! <3

Name: caroline

Fandoms: mostly the clone wars, but i also have some marvel stuff, and waaay back in the day, i wrote some doctor who and merlin stuff!

Where you post: primarily on ao3! i mostly just write on tumblr when i’m accepting prompts from like...ask games or something.

Most Popular Oneshot: real

Most Popular Multichap: to these memories (this fic only recently hit 1k kudos, and my heart?? w h a t)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: def. to these memories because a) longest fic i’ve ever written, and b) oh, the hours i logged into writing this fic, and c) oh, the outlining that went into this fic...i’m very proud of myself for completing the fic, and of course, i credit this to everyone who showed their lovely support for the story. :’)

Fic You Were Nervous to Post: uhhh definitely too far just because it’s...rather personal. i sometimes say that there’ll be a scene or two or just straight up a line or two that’s plucked out of my real life, and i think it’s inevitable for writers of any kind, including fic writers, to isolate their real lives completely from whatever they’re writing, and?? this fic is probably the most personal for me because of that. i remember kinda hem-hawwing about posting it, because i was like whoa, maybe this is a little too personal? but then i steeled myself and was like, “okay, well, would this have lifted my spirits when i needed a story like this??” and then decided to post it.

How you choose your titles: i def. toss and turn between titles! there’s a few fics of mine that are straight-up song lyrics (no surprise there), but to my surprise (as i was looking through my catalogue of fics just now), i realize that a lot of my fics are usually just words or two about what i think might have been extremely important to the story. (or captures the overall tone/theme of the story, anyways.)

Do you outline? for multi-chapter fics and relatively long one-shots with lots of moving parts, i’ll outline. but for shorter one-shots and prompts, i’ll usually just stick with the image that compelled me to write the prompt/one-shot in the first place! (and then kinda write around that.)

Complete: uhhhhh, i’m gonna answer relatively for all my clone wars fics, because in total, i have 74 completed fics. (make that...75, hopefully in a few minutes or hours!) but out of clone wars fics, i have 46 completed fics! (and again, hopefully 47 in a little while.) a part of me is lowkey hoping that i’ll get up to 100 total fics by the end of this year. a part of me highly doubts it, but given how much i was able to write over summer break, i’m...intruiged if i wind up somehow writing another twenty or so fics by the end of this year. (asfsf my wip list is long enough to fill in for another twenty fics. caroline finish all your wips challenge.)

In Progress: okay, so officially, time, wondrous time is in progress and online. but in terms of the works in progress on my laptop...i have...*mutters, counting* fourteen official wips. (ten of them are one-shots, and the other four are longform fics. one of them, i’m hoping to release next week (!!!), and another, i’m hoping to release hopefully around mid-december. uhhh so fingers crossed??)

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: oops, i guess i kinda already answered that question, but eh, might as well! the one coming out next week (hopefully!! caroline get your shit together challenge!!) is titled most ardently, and it’s an obitine au based off pride & prejudice because i cannot and will not shut up about obitine being the period drama ship out of star wars okay--

and then the other longform fic that is very overdue is called getting lost in a big galaxy, which is a fix-it of sorts taking place after season 5. anakin’s gone missing, and obi-wan winds up going on a galaxy-ride road trip with ahsoka (who, remember, has left the order) to find their idiot. this is honestly my excuse to just write more obi-wan and ahsoka content. hopefully, that’ll be posted in december!! (despite the fact i...originally meant to post it in august oOps.)

and then there’s this other longform fic which...might be coming in early 2021 called red, underlined, which is essentially...uh. everyone’s a stressed out law-school student, and anakin might have accidentally murdered professor palpatine, and now anakin, obi-wan, ahsoka, padme, and rex are all trying to find out what the hell to do with themselves because they’re all in on it. (def. influenced by how to get away with murder except without the criminal justice professor to lead them through the ropes. so more chaos. kind of a dark comedy vibe, if anything else? anakin no is major theme in this one. uh, i mean, maybe anakin was justified in murdering creep palpatine because our gang’s gonna find out what was going on in the background, but either way! lots of “holy shit are we good people are we bad people what are we doing”. lots of questions about morality! ethics! law school student study nights with anakin sprawled out on the floor and obi-wan wearing glasses (which he pushes up the bridge of his nose whenever he’s about to lecture anakin that no, that’s not how that statute works, dumbass) and ahsoka just bringing snacks and rex catching paper airplanes and padme being the one to supply everyone with very neat flashcards. this fic is gonna be an absolute beheamoth, and i’m estimating about 45 chapters? like...130K+ words? help? yeah idk either this really blew up in my head

and then...this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job, which is...office x tcw au. only not? it’s very, very loosely based off the office, but not really. obi-wan moves in as a new manager of a company, and we’ve got anakin being like “lol new guy i’m gonna mess with him”, and ahsoka being the one who’s both like “please don’t mess with our new boss” but also being like “actually, wait, lemme help”, rex being in hr and being like “i don’t get paid enough for this”. (also there’s some parts that are written like actual interviews like you would find in the office, so there’s this one bit where uhhh

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes to the cameras in silent question before turning back to Ahsoka. “Well, if you need to call maintenance, then I hardly think you need my permission—”

“Thanks!” Ahsoka says quickly, and she’s about to disappear from the doorway when Obi-Wan stands up.

“Wait, Ahsoka, what exactly—”

Ahsoka re-appears at the doorway. “Oh, right,” she says. “Um—maybe just stay away from the men’s bathroom for a little bit.” She pauses.

“Actually, just stay away from them for the rest of the day.” She hovers by the door for a minute longer, and then she adds quickly, “And maybe also avoid the breakroom. Everything’s fine!”

And with a perfectly not-fine smile, Ahsoka disappears from the doorway.

Obi-Wan stares at where Ahsoka was just a moment ago, and the he turns to the cameras in disbelief. “Did she just—” Unable to finish his own sentence, Obi-Wan starts out the door. “Ahsoka?”

The camera follows Obi-Wan out of the conference room and into the breakroom. There are only muffled shouts—Anakin’s shouts, and then Rex’s, and then Ahsoka’s frantic “no, sorry, everything’s fine!”, and then Obi-Wan’s loud, “What is going on in here?”

surprise y’all just got a snippet i’m sorry can you tell i’m weirdly into this au?? i need to rewrite some scenes but uh there you go

Prompts: for the most part, yes! i have some stuff in my faq about prompts that i’ll probably turn down (mostly anything that’s...above a certain rating/really, realy heavy themes that i just don’t think i can tackle with justice or with enough education on my end). i can be a little slow with prompts, but i’ll get to all of them in time!

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: uhhhh i have too many that i’m excited about. literally i can write a mini essay on every single one of the fics i’m working on? but uhhh i guess since i already talked about all my major longform fics above (asdfasdfsd didn’t mean to do that, i’m so sorry for everyone who had to scroll past that word-vomit), i guess the one i’m most excited about releasing is the post season 7 obi-wan-and-ahsoka-finally-talk-about-how-they-miss-each-other-also-sorry-for-fighting-with-you-i-know-you-were-just-trying-your-best fic. (not a whole ton of spoilers for this one, but uh. i’m looking at some of these scenes and making frustrated sounds because there’s this one particular instance where i’m like, ahsoka. ahsoka just talk to him just ta lk to him but then lol no talking :)) also maybe some h/c? lowkey sickfic might be involved in this somehow? might have accidentally served as a precursor to to these memories? help? this fic just ballooned. caroline keep your ideas contained challenge!)

No Pressure Tags: @lightasthesun @soplantyourownflowers @ohhellokenobiand anyone else who wants to join!

#tag game #thank you!!#caroline.....control your wips challenge #also i am so sorry this got sO long and SO OUT OF HAND #also....lol caroline stop writing so many longform fic challenge #i really love writing one-shots #i really really love writing one shots #but like also. also there's a part of me that's like 'im gonna hyperfixate on this au sO HARD'#thankfully tho i think those are all the longform wips #there's also that one time travel fix it longform fic i have in the back of my head....#but lol i still haven't outlined it yet

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chronicbatfictioner · 4 years

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Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 10

The pretty boy in a tight leather suit was as good and pretty with his stitches as he looked in a tight leather suit, Jason observed. The older man, looking much more like a highly trained and competent fighter, but with a similar mental age as Damian, was having quite a success in entertaining the boy.

Overall, the accommodation was decent - no one could come in undetected, or get out unnoticed. He figured this was some sort of containment unit, originally; only later used as a safe house. It was located, ironically, near Jason's old home at Crime Alley. He knew the area well, even the underground side of it. If he were to escape this place, it would have been easy.

But the boy - 'Stray' - seemed earnest when he said the Oracle's name. Thus far, however, there was no presence of the Oracle themselves. Jason was still unsure if the Oracle was a man, a woman, or a group of people - and has settled for a non-binary pronoun in his mind.

Plus, he was receiving free, neat stitches without having to face some sort of legal authorities. He sincerely doubted that the Gotham Police would be able to provide protection or service quite like this, regardless of what he was told.

"What's the Oracle, by the way?" he finally decided to ask, his curiosity won.

Stray blinked. "Uh, an entity that holds numerous kind of information network to help the good people of Gotham take the city back from evil?" he replied.

"Did you rehearse that?" Jason quipped.

"No, thankfully, I'm a professional. That one came straight out of my sitting end." Stray retorted.

Jason barked a laugh. Stray beamed a little at him. "Sorry... just... it's been a while since I hear sincere sarcasm." Jason apologized.

"Heeey, I like this guy! You're a Gothamite, aren't you?" Talon commented from halfway across the room.

"I... how'd you know?" Jason didn't bother trying to deny it. He realized that only Gothamites would appreciate good sarcasm. "Are you?"

"He's not. He was a circus dude and got this mad skillz in figuring out where people came from." Stray replied. "I am, though."

"I could tell that one, actually. You both know how to fight well, yet you have no superpowers, and you helped a random someone and joined a brawl without wondering who was good, who was bad. Typical Gothamites." Jason snarked, only slightly regretting the rudeness.

Talon seemed unperturbed. "See, kitten? You should really reign in your tempers," he commented.

Stray sighed dramatically. "Seriously, dude. It was you who said something about the brawling party and you're not invited. I was just there to make sure nobody died." he deadpanned. "And by nobody, I meant those ninjas. He has a nasty temper."

"What can I say? I had to join in, we're heroes, man!" Talon quipped.

"Are you heroes like Superman?" Damian asked curiously. "You have colors, but muted, unlike Superman's... rather obnoxiously eye-catching uniform..." he added with a slight scowl on the corner of his lips.

"Costume. But hey, you know, he operates in the daylight hours. He has to be visible, right? Otherwise, people might think of him as a weather blimp or something. We, on the other hand, prefer to work nights because the bad people of Gotham City like to work nights, too." Talon explained; reasonably, simply, but not condescendingly. At least Damian bought the explanation. Jason knew how his tempers would flare if he thought he was being belittled.

He unconsciously sighed. The two 'heroes' have provided adequate meals in the form of Turkish fast food for them. The taste was... horrible, compared to the ones made by the League's cooks. But Damian had eaten them, anyway, after seeing Jason ate his. Jason himself wasn't bothered by the taste - he would never be bothered by the taste of food as long as they're hot and fresh; he'd had his share of eating cold discarded leftovers, anyway.

The bright side of consuming the high-carb food was that Damian was starting to sway on his feet.

"Damian, I believe it's time for me to turn in for the night. Will it be okay if you explain to these two what we're doing in town?" he told Damian. The latter blinked owlishly, obviously fighting his exhaustion.

"I... if you don't mind, Red, I would prefer you to explain to them while I repose. My mind does not want to compose words in English right now," he admitted, and Jason snickered internally.

"You want to go to bed?" Talon asked, a little oblivious of Damian's attempt to behave older than his actual age. "Would you like me to keep you comp--" Jason cleared his throat just in time, and blessed be, Talon seemed to understand and corrected himself, "...stand guard for you?"

"If you deem it necessary, then conduct yourself, Talon. I shall not attempt to escape this... establishment - not especially while Red is quite incapacitated. But I understand you have your orders." Damian replied. Stray coughed, and Jason would swear that he was hiding a giggle.

"So he thinks he's a prisoner." Stray finally commented once Talon and Damian walked out of the med-bay toward the bedrooms.

"I hope we're not since you've both been so kind and am not looking forward to popping a stitch," Jason replied. "at least not tonight. Such neat stitches, too," he added.

"You're not. We'll know if you get out, but we won't stop you." Oracle finally made its presence known, through a projection on the wall. Stray pointed at the area between his eyebrows, and Jason immediately noticed a camera located roughly on the projection's forehead. "So, now that we're all adults here... Stray notwithstanding, care to let us in on what's going on?"

"About the boy being Bruce Wayne's son?" Jason groaned.

"That, among all others. What happened to Ra's Al Ghul and his daughter, Talia? Why are they not here?" Oracle asked. "I have done some researches and found that both Ra's and Talia have disappeared. Care to enlighten us?"

"They're dead," Jason swallowed around the lump in his throat. "They were murdered, and I've been assigned by Talia to send Damian to his father if or when she is deceased."

"And you're sure the father is Bruce Wayne?" Stray asked.

Jason shrugged, "Hey, it's not like I was there when it happened, right? Damian was three years old when I met him for the first time. That's what she told me, and that's what I'm gonna go by."

"If..." Oracle hesitated. "A hypothetical situation here: if you did get to meet Bruce Wayne and told him that he has a son, what's next?"

"I suppose there would be processes - DNA tests and whatnot. I'll remain by Damian's side, regardless. Talia has assigned me to be Damian's main Ghost. That is, the caretaker." Jason explained. "Are you worried that Wayne would not admit it?"

"That's one of the things I worry about," Oracle admitted. "What then, if he won't accept Damian?"

Jason shrugged again. "We shall convince him by all means. Otherwise..." he paused and inhaled sharply. "I can take care of him, legally or whatever."

"Jason Peter Todd, 19, has been a milk-box face for six years. You're a few months away before being declared dead in absentia." Oracle recited. Jason was not surprised. He knew that Stray had collected his blood - presumably for use of identification. "So I suppose you don't want to be declared dead, and thus you allowed Stray to take your blood."

"You're good," Jason smirked. "Talia revered you highly; said that you're the epitome of all that is good in the world. Even while being invisible."

"You're a charmer, obviously," Oracle quipped dryly. Stray actually snickered this time. "You didn't even ask who'd put your face on said milk box,"

"Must be some people my folks owed money to," Jason snorted. "Anyway, I was planned to return to Gotham prior to being declared dead, anyway. So that I can exist alongside Damian if... the scenario you mentioned above happened. It just kind of happened a little too soon." he sighed dejectedly. "I was taking Damian out on a training excursion when they attacked... We tried..." he paused, wondering just how much Oracle knew of the Lazarus Pit. "The damage on their bodies were too extensive. The perpetrators were... long gone when we got back."

"I hope by 'we' you don't mean just Damian and you," Stray remarked, looking a little pale even under his amber-colored goggles. "and who's 'the perpetrators'?"

"Oh, no, I meant me and a number of my trusted compatriots. Damian's guards. We're spreading out as we speak to divert attention from the League of Shadows, each of us carrying a child of Damian's size. League of Shadows is... 'the perpetrators'. They're a league of murderers and covert assassins that reneged from us to follow Lady Shiva, who was once one of Ra's Seven Men of Death." he explained. "Anyway, Houston, since you said I'm not a prisoner here, I think it would be fair if you answer my question this time. What was the problem Talon talked about to you?"

#JayTim #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Barbara Gordon #Batless!AU #Red Robin #Robin #Nightwing #Red Hood #oracle!barbara #stray!tim #Talon!Dick #Bruce Wayne #batfamily

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thankskenpenders · 5 years

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While we still have three issues left featuring stories written by Karl Bollers, we’ve pretty much come to the end of his run as lead writer on Archie Sonic. As I’ve said many times, his work certainly had flaws, and there were stories of his that bored me. (I definitely could’ve done with less stories where Sally’s parents prevent her from joining the action.) But there were also many I quite enjoyed, and on average I’d say his stories were usually pretty okay. He definitely went out on a high note with Return to Angel Island, though. That’s for sure

In this post, I’d like to look over the list of scrapped story ideas listed on Bollers’ wiki page, and give some thoughts. Had he continued writing Sonic, this is what he would have done

Sonic and Amy becoming a couple after being stranded at sea together and keeping it a secret from Princess Sally.

Ehh... I’d have to see how this really played out. Sega was pushing SonAmy super hard at the time with Sonic X, though, and the Archie comics had barely even acknowledged Amy’s crush on Sonic, so I guess something like this had to happen eventually. I’m also sure it wouldn’t have lasted long, since it was obvious Bollers would have Sonic and Sally reconcile eventually

Tails reuniting with his parents by traveling into space on a modified Tornado.

This would’ve been pretty neat, honestly! I’d just hope that Tails wouldn’t stay out in space for too long

Amy's origins being explored in a fuller adaptation of Sonic CD.

Very cool! Definitely would’ve liked to see this. But Ian ended up doing more with Amy and incorporating the stories of the Genesis era games into the comics later on, so I guess we didn’t really lose much by not getting this story from Bollers

Knuckles departing Angel Island after learning that his presence exposes the location of the Master Emerald, going on a global pilgrimage to learn martial arts, and battling a Dr. Eggman controlled-Monkey Khan while under the control of the Iron Queen before discovering the Master Geode.

Now THIS sounds cool. While I’m not exactly a fan of Monkey Khan, I think sending Knuckles off on a big adventure and having him learn more fighting skills would be a great use of his character. Way better than having him sit around on Angel Island all day, that’s for sure. And after how great Return to Angel Island was, I would’ve loved to see more Knuckles stories from Bollers

Mammoth Mogul beginning to age rapidly due to his original Chaos Emerald running out of energy, forcing him to seek out alternative sources through illicit archaeological expeditions and hiring mercenaries like Nack the Weasel. The Master Geode, a powerful gemstone that would fulfill Mogul's needs, would be contested by him, the Iron Queen, Robotnik, and Rouge the Bat.

Also pretty cool. I’m assuming this is all part of the same overarching story as Knuckles’ martial arts training. It’d be fun to see this combination of new and old game characters as well as old Archie characters vying for power. I also love that all these forces would be vying for control of this powerful gem, but then Rouge is also there because... she just wants it. All of these characters would have their time to shine in Ian’s run, though

Sally being a pawn in a villainous plot by the corrupted Source of All and Ixis Naugus to prevent the future first previewed in Sonic In Your Face.

Antoine gaining his scar due to an accident with a knife and becoming a villain after allowing himself to be possessed by a corrupted Source of All in hopes of winning Bunnie back.

The Source of All surviving Robotropolis' destruction and reconstituting itself in a remote mountain range, beginning to exert control over King Max, brainwashing the Arachne and another group of Spiders known as the Strand, and possessing Antoine while under the control of Ixis Naugus.

We’ve already talked about this canceled subplot before, but oh man, I would’ve loved this. I always hated the concept of the Source of All, and the idea that Max’s actions were all justified by some sort of omniscient future vision. The Acorn family rituals surrounding the Source were also already extremely creepy, so turning their bonding with the Source into a bad thing would’ve been an incredibly easy pill to swallow

Bunnie and Antoine breaking up due to a change in Antoine's personality, with Bunnie's origins later being explored and her true name being revealed as Scarlette O'Hare

I mean, Bunnie’s last name being Rabbot (pronounced Rab-OH) was always silly, but I don’t know if we really needed this. Y’all know I’m down for more Bunnie, though

Rotor retiring from field duty in order to pursue a role analogous to that played by "Q" of James Bond fame.

They’d already been leaving him out of missions for years. I guess this makes sense, and at least turning him into the guy who makes the gadgets for everyone would give him a more clearly defined role

Locke and Lara-Le putting aside their previous disputes to help raise Knecapeon "Kneecaps" Mace after his father Wynmacher ends up in the Egg Grape Chamber.

I’ve talked about all this a bit before. Really not sure what to think of it. My gut instinct is that I don’t like the idea of Locke reuniting with Lara-Le at all. He hasn’t earned her forgiveness. But I’d have to see how Bollers wrote it, I guess

Robotnik kidnapping Hope Kintobor under the pretense that he is the only correct choice to be her legal guardian, while genuinely using her as bait to lure in Shadow the Hedgehog.

Not sure how I feel about Hope getting kidnapped, but the mental image of literal tyrant Dr. Eggman going to child protective services and pretending he’d be a good guardian for Hope as part of a scheme to get Shadow is really funny to me

Ixis Naugus attempting to return by transforming Max's body into a duplicate of his own, only to be thwarted by the destruction of the Crown of Acorns

I would’ve liked to see Naugus explored more, but hey! Ian sure used him a lot. So this is another case where we aren’t missing out on much

Nate Morgan surviving the destruction of Robotropolis, being De-Roboticized by the Bem, and returning as Coconuts' amnesia-addled ally, who creates a new Metal Sonic, Metal Amy, Metal Knuckles, and Tails Doll that are mistaken for Robian versions of the heroes.

This would’ve been a REALLY interesting development. Bollers was very open about how he hated the direction Nate Morgan had gone in and had some interesting plans to bring him back. And, well, this is it. Kind of reminds me of a certain subplot with Eggman in the IDW comics, except in reverse

I also love how this would’ve brought in Metal Knuckles, Tails Doll, and a new Metal Amy. Bollers really seemed to be enjoy bringing in elements from the older games in his later years at Archie, with much of the action in Return to Angel Island taking place in actual zones from S3&K. Getting Coconuts involved is also wild. This would’ve been a really fun story

Snively taking up a fifteen foot-tall mechanical battlesuit and the alias "Skarkus" in pursuit of revenge against Robotnik for leaving him alone against the Xorda, leading to an alliance between him and Shadow.

Yeah, this one sure is. Something. Honestly I have no idea how it would turn out. It’d be all about the execution

A.D.A.M. and NICOLE becoming romantically involved, leading to A.D.A.M. seizing control of the Shadowbot army and leading them from New Megaopolis to Knothole.

Okay I hate this one lol. But to be fair, I mostly hate it because the other writers ended up taking Nicole in a completely different direction and giving her her lynx form (and eventually pairing her with Sally). Bollers had no way of knowing that Nicole would become such a central character, so I can’t really blame him for having an idea like this, I guess

A new Dingo Regime leader named Colonel Mange being introduced, with Croctobot, Jack Rabbit, and Gala-Na being reintroduced as Robotnik Sub-Bosses over Downunda, the Great Desert, and Albion. This would have led to the disappearance of the Downunda Freedom Fighters and a confrontation involving the Mercian Freedom Fighters.

Ah, the beginnings of Eggman having Mobian sub-bosses working for him. I guess Kage in Return to Angel Island was really the start of this, but still. Gala-Na becoming a subordinate of Eggman actually makes a lot of sense to me. She was already an antagonist in the Chaos Knuckles arc, and it’s painfully obvious that the Albion echidnas are selfish pricks who only look out for themselves. If she thought that siding with Eggman would protect Albion, I totally think she’d sell out

Anti-Sonic coming to enjoy impersonating Sonic and enjoying the love of his parents and adulation of his people, leading him to plan to eliminate Sonic and permanently take his place.

This one’s also kinda interesting I suppose, although we definitely got no shortage of Anti-Sonic impersonating Sonic in the last year of Penders stories. Can’t say I’m dying to see this story told

---

So, all in all, definitely some interesting ideas! If there’s two major throughlines I see in this plans, it’s 1) bringing back forgotten elements from both the games and earlier comics and 2) reinventing Penders characters and concepts. Which makes a lot of sense, because that’s exactly what he was doing with Return to Angel Island

Part of me is sad that these stories were never told. The Source of All being evil and Knuckles’ martial arts training stand out to me in particular. But there are other ideas that are pretty similar to things Ian would do in his run, like Eggman having Mobian sub-bosses or Naugus coming back, so it’s hard to feel too sad. It’s also hard to know how good the execution would’ve been on these pitches

Of course, if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that these stories probably would’ve been better than the ones we actually got from Penders and Chacon over the next year and a half

#StH 141 #tkp post

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antiques-for-geeks · 4 years

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Game Review: Aliens

Electric Dreams / 1987 / C64

Also released on Amstrad CPC, ZX Spectrum, MSX and C16

With one eye firmly on Halloween, we’re going to review some games that used to make us breathe heavily, grasping our joysticks tightly in our sweaty palms...

Based on James Cameron’s sequel to the archetypal sci-fi body-horror Alien, Aliens is possibly one of the most panic-inducing games of the 8-bit era. It goes without saying that it’s hard to actually scare anyone on an 8-bit computer, unless blocky, jerky and flickery graphics bring you out in a cold sweat. What you can do, however, is force the player into having to make a series of quickfire decisions under stressful conditions, juggling resources and trying to keep order in the face of the impossible, like an air traffic controller in a power cut.

Aliens is played from a first-person perspective, and at first glance seems like a fairly simple game. You start in the middle of the operations room in LV-426, in control of Ellen Ripley and a team of 5 space marines who’ve been sent to find the alien queen and rid the base of her menace. You get a cross-hair, which is where your bullets will go. You can look around to the left or right, and you can step through a door to another room with a press of the space bar.

Nothing much is happening right at the start of the game, but don’t worry, it won’t stay that way for long!

The queen sits in a room right in the depths of the base. You use the keyboard to select individual team-members, but you can only directly control one at a time. Each member is represented by a nice little image and a stat bar showing how tired they are. There are no practical differences between each team member, which is a bit of a wasted opportunity, but the images are still a nice touch if you’ve seen the film, and help the player identify with their soldiers. Your team grows weary if they move too far without a rest; they’ll be unable to move and will aim more slowly until given time to recuperate.

You can issue orders for any team member to move a number of rooms in any compass direction, and they’ll carry out your instructions to the best of their ability once you switch out. On the way you’ll encounter alien warriors, eggs and face huggers... or they’ll encounter you as they’ll actively try and hunt down your group.

When one of your characters is in the same room as an alien you’ll hear a warning noise. This is a sinister beeping when you’re not controlling the character directly, and a panic inducing klaxon when you are. What ensues next is a desperate fumble to find the correct key to select the character who is in trouble, followed by an anguished pan around the room in search of the invader. Obviously you’ve only got a limited time to do all this, and the warning tone gets quicker and increasingly agitated to make sure you’re well aware of this fact.

I see you!

Once you spot the alien, you’ve got to line him up and blast him before he gets to you. One head-shot should do it, but you won’t get a clean shot, because by now your heart rate is sure to be through the roof. He’ll run right at you too, making you waste a bunch of (limited!) ammo on him.

If you’re super lucky, several team members will be attacked at the same time, which is probably more tense than doing a driving test naked with a wasp in the car.

If the alien gets you the warning tone will change to a forlorn peep. That signifies your character being bundled up for immediate xenomorph oral impregnation. You’ve got a short time to get someone else to the room to take the alien out, but if you don’t get there in time you’ve lost them for good. Their little picture will disappear and you’ll get nothing but static if you switch to their screen.

Another nasty twist: if you blast an alien in front of a door it’ll leave a pool of acid blood which will kill your character outright should they try to exit that way.

There are a few things you can do to keep yourself alive. You can shoot out the control panels next to any door, which will prevent aliens coming through for a time. This is a one-time only deal, because you’ll have to blow the door open if you want to use it again. You can also re-stock a team member’s ammo at a specific room in the complex. This is useful, because running out of ammo is as good as a death sentence. You’ll also need a map. There’s no in game map provided, though the room number each character occupies is shown next to their image. The full price release provided a fold out map in the box, and you’ll need this. Make sure you have a copy handy, because the game is almost unplayably hard unless you have one!

One last thing. The aliens spread a sort of fungal growth around the rooms, which can cover doors and must be blasted away. There’s a generator room somewhere in the complex, and if the walls there get covered by alien fungus the LIGHTS WILL TURN OUT!

I can’t emphasise enough what bad news this is, because hunting for aliens by shadows alone is probably about as much fun as falling into the sharps bin in an STD clinic.

Film licenses had a pretty bad reputation for the discerning 8-bit gamer, tending to be shoddy and quickly thrown together efforts. Aliens is both an excellent game in its own right and perfect at evoking the tension and atmosphere of the film. There’s also quite a bit of tactical depth here too. Do you keep your group of soldiers together? Move as quickly as possible to the queen chamber? Maybe try to fan out and secure the generator room and armoury?

Ripley is looking a bit off colour today.

It’s also worth mentioning that there was also another Aliens game released for 8-bit micros, developed by Activision in the U.S. This takes a different approach to the license, presenting the film as a series of mini-game levels such as landing the drop-ship, fighting your way through the base to save Newt, the last surviving colonist, and the climactic one-on-one mechanical loader duel with the alien queen. This is also a good game, and well worth seeking out if you're a fan of the franchise, though for my money not quite as well conceived and executed as the U.K. version.

Playing it today

If you don't want to follow the obvious route of emulation and you’ve got a real C64, Amstrad CPC or Spectrum to hand, this should be easy to pick up for a few quid online. If you fancy something slightly more polished, there’s a fine looking windows PC remake ‘LV-426’ by Derbian Games that can be downloaded for free.

Commentariat

Tim: Ah, Aliens. Back when the franchise was actually scary and not a pastiche of itself.

As I suspect many others, I bought this on budget when it appeared on the Ricochet label from Mastertronic. This release really lacked the one thing that helped gameplay. A map.

The full price release had pull-out one included with the game; Mastertronic however, probably decided that including a separate sheet for just one title would have cost too much. And been yet another inlay for the staff at Menzies in the Clydebank Shopping Centre to lose. Zzap 64 published one for those of us without, but as I didn’t have that issue, I was in the dark. Quite literally, as it was more fun to play with the lights off.

Life is too short to make maps, so instead I ended up creeping about the complex, not really knowing where I was. Sounds dull, right? Well, no. The game oozes atmosphere; the graphics are tight and well executed, and though the C64’s SID chip is hardly taxed, the sounds that are there do the trick. The throbbing noise when an alien approaches, your exhausted marine out of ammo but still you frantically pull the trigger of their Pulse Rifle in the vain hope that maybe, just maybe there will be one last shell in there to give you a fighting chance. What I particularly like though is the freedom of gameplay, choosing to use your team as individuals or cooperatively as squads, investigating the different parts of the base separately. Pretty cool, when you consider it’s all done in just 64k.

Do I have fond memories of it? Yes. Would I play it again? Absolutely.

Meat: This game is an intense experience, likely to elicit some strong swear words if you’re not in the right mood for it. It’s certainly engrossing stuff though, and tough to beat. One thing though. Which genius decided that the ‘m’ key should restart the game? You know, the one next to the ‘n‘ key you use to tell your soldiers to move north? Nice one.

Pop: I played this a few years before seeing the film, but in retrospect it’s a very clever use of the license. It was also a really tense experience for an 8-bit game, particularly later on when your soldiers are assaulted by wave after wave of aliens and face huggers. Like many games of the era, it’s perhaps a little arcane for today’s audience, what with having to use the keyboard to select the different team members, but still playable and still enjoyable today. It’s the kind of game I can imagine working perfectly on a VR helmet, though that might be a little too much immersion for comfort!

Strangely enough, one of my strongest memories of this game was actually waiting for it to load off cassette tape. The Mastertronic re-release copy I played (borrowed off Tim, of course!) had a neat game of space-invaders that you got to play while waiting for the loading process to complete, accompanied by some very atmospheric music. This ‘invade-a-load’ appeared on a few C64 tape games, but in my head it’s always tied to playing Aliens.

Score card

Presentation 4/10

Very basic indeed. No intro screen, title crawl or music. The box contained a map, which is essential and should have been a part of the game itself.

Originality 8/10

An extremely novel use of a film license. The mix of first person perspective, team management and light strategy elements put this in a class of its own. Sadly, most licensed games of the 8-bit era tended to use cookie-cutter gameplay which was usually executed better elsewhere.

Graphics 7/10

Very clear and atmospheric, you’ll have no problem working out what everything is. The images for the team members are well drawn and clear for an 8-bit system. On the down side, rooms are drawn predominantly in a single colour and a little more variety in the room designs would be nice. The aliens walk like they’re going for a relaxing afternoon stroll, but the animation when they rush your position is very effective.

Hookability 7/10

Immediately intriguing, but the use of the keyboard and advanced controls for commanding team members require the investment of time to enjoy.

Sound 3/10

Played in near silence, except for gunfire and the alien warning siren. This actually makes the game more atmospheric. A title tune would have been nice.

Lastability 7/10

A decent challenge, it seems impossible until you form a good plan on how to tackle the assault on the base. Like many other games of the era, how much you get out of this game depends on how much you’re willing to put into working out how to play it effectively.

Overall 8/10

A fine example of how to compress the tension and drama of an action film into 64K.

#review #halloween #AFG #antiquesforgeeks #retrogaming #c64

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thornfield13713 · 4 years

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i'd love to hear more of your ideas for the alleycat au - how long was he in the process of noumufication/how old was he during the endeavour incident? how do shirakumo and yamada react after his disappearance? what was aizawa's plan for when he finally escaped? anything you feel like expanding upon, i'd love to read!!!

Ok!

First of all, Aizawa was taken during the same incident that led to Shirakumo’s apparent death in canon. So, he’d be somewhere in the 16-17 age range at the time. I’m working on the assumption that creating a nomu that retains enough intelligence and enough of its own will to do a job like raising Shigaraki probably takes a few months st least, so let’s say six months between disappearance and escape, making Aizawa about seventeen or eighteen when he got out.

I don’t think he initially had much of a plan. He just knew he had to get out of the situation he was in. He’s clever and strategic, sure, but without much memory of the outside world beyond vague common-sense, he was flying blind for the most part, which was how he ended up getting into that incident with Endeavour - he got caught shoplifting very shortly after his escape because he was on the street with basically no other options, and Endeavour responded to the situation with his customary grace, understanding and sense of proportion. Aizawa knew he had no chance in a straight fight, and his instincts around his Quirk still said he needed to concentrate in order to nullify Quirks, leading to Endeavour getting his Quirk erased permanently when he attempted an attack.

It was rather assumed that this was clearly the first sign of a very powerful villain with a plan, rather than a terrified teenager living on the street and surviving hand-to-mouth, and although there was a mass manhunt for the supervillain responsible (dubbed ‘Alley Cat’ by the press because one of the first things Aizawa acquired after getting out of the facility where he was being held was a cat-eared hoodie to cover his scars and also because he just thought it was cute), Aizawa was never even identified in said manhunt because, as a street kid barely surviving in a rough part of town, he was considered beneath suspicion.

He ends up making his home in a rough neighbourhood where heroes don’t generally operate and police presence is limited, and sort of straddles the line between villain and vigilante in how he operates there. He is genuinely trying to look out for the people in this area, but he’s not opposed to taking ‘gifts’ in exchange, usually food or clean used clothes at first, but gradually graduating to protection payments after he manages to run off the last of the area’s small-time Yakuza and racketeering groups and it’s just quietly assumed that he’s taken over. That said, he doesn’t ask for much, and he takes the ‘protection’ part of protection money very seriously. Nobody makes trouble for the people of Alley Cat’s territory and gets away with it for very long, and most major criminal syndicates soon learn that, even if he’s just one guy and kind of a small-timer, you have to cat-foot around Alley Cat’s part of town, since the last gang leader who decided to try and take over came back with no Quirk and two broken kneecaps. This is also part of why he stays below the radar, as in area with very limited law enforcement, he’s still a protector, and between that and picking up some under-the-table work here and there he’s more or less managing to get by.

As for Shirakumo and Yamada...the original form of this AU has them both change their chosen hero names after Aizawa’s disappearance, but I’m not sure I’ll borrow that. It would make for a neat bit of mirroring, though, especially since without a quieter foil, being loud and exuberant isn’t nearly as good a theme. I do think they are both devastated by his loss in different ways, and that one or other of them might skew more towards underground heroics in this AU because of what happened. I’ll need to think on that in more detail. I do know that they are both at UA, and that they are both troubled and haunted when the brothers Aizawa Izuku and Hitoshi arrive at UA.

(Another thing I’ve taken from the original - All for One needed a replacement for Aizawa, and Inko is, on paper, a perfect target. I am also considering using the Dad for One theory here, in that Inko learnt who Hisashi was, and tried to make a break for it. All for One caught up with her, but Izuku got away. As punishment for trying to run, and in a warped attempt to keep her close to him, he decides to make her into the caretaker nomu for Shigaraki Tomura.)

#alley cat remix au #my hero academia #aizawa shouta

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sveasauvageon · 4 years

Text

HSWW ROUND I STORY

I never gave it a neat title, oops. Svea Year I + Pre-Seventh Year Midsummer Celebrations {HSWW}

─═Featured HSWW/Polyvore Era not-mein oc’s═─

Eloise Avery | @.themadmonarchist

(also mentioned Lord and Lady Avery, but they don't appear)

Syn Lothbrok | @.ghostpastey

Hvitty Lothbrok | @.ghostpastey

Entire Lothbrok Family (too many to name individually)

Damien Greaves | @.natasha-maree13

Tyler Lee | @.maybones (lol, I originally typed @minahbones)

Minah Kwon Delacroix | @.maybones

Tara Lee (I couldn't leave out Little T from this nutty dance) | @.maybones

Theo Nott | @.themadmonarchist

Moses Park Jr | @.koby

Lyra Greaves | @.natasha-maree13

Oberon Greaves | @.natasha-maree13

Henry Clark | @.lady-stoneheart

Xander Carlyle (I think I've been listing him as clark all this time, whoops) | @.lady-stoneheart

Sungjae Lee | @.chrissykinz

Loralei Expura | @.thespian-at-large

Lyrae Mino | @.skyfalll

──════𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀════──

Up in the northwest quarters of the Sauvageon Estate, Svea was braiding her young sister's hair with little bells and complex knots. Khalessi style? Yes, obviously. The show is garbage, but is visually stunning. Also the music. Back to point, as the elder heir wove in the little bells, Lili enthusiastically recounted her first year at Koldovstoretz; her classes, teachers, friends, and her first Russian Quidditch game where they play on entire uprooted trees instead of brooms (A/N: true fact, look it up on the wikia).

Her ardor and excitement made Svea nostalgic of her own first year. Her letter had arrived at the Prince Manor in Cornwall, where she had been staying for a year. The darkest year in her life she may add. The arrival of the letter was nothing special or shocking, there certainly wasn't any doubt about her having magic after she had set the manor on fire. Though, she did note a mild expression of relief on her grandfather's face, presumably he was pleased she'd be out of his house soon. And she was pleased about that too, the Prince Manor was dark, dreary, and drab, and they refused to allow Aunt Brigitta to remodel it after the fire. Svea never understood why they insisted it be restored as it was, the poor interiors were what she called "discount gothic", it was nothing like the true majesty of actual gothic architecture.

Anyway, decidedly pleased her time with the Prince's was nearing its end, Svea was positively beaming when she went to King's Cross Station on September the first. She was accompanied by her aunt and step-mother, the later of whom had apparated to London the day before, much to the displeasure of Svea's mother, who also accompanied them to King's Cross. Svea questioned her mother's instructions of walking into a wall, part of her believing that it may just be some kind of trick to humiliate the "foreigners", as she so often called Svea and her paternal family. However, the Prince simply huffed in annoyance, glaring at the odd silvery-gold colour Iliana had died the little girl's hair, before briskly walking through the wall first herself, with Svea, Iliana, and Brigitta quickly following thereafter.

Svea had barely a moment to admire the victorian vibe of the station before her mother pulled her aside. "Richelle, ensure that you're sorted into Slytherin, and try not to do anything to disgrace the Prince name." she commanded, disappearing with a loud crack before Svea could retort. Sighing to herself, she made a mental note to send a howler reminding her mother that her name is Svea Sauvageon, not Richelle Prince, before reuniting with her aunt and step-mother, who were overseeing the loading of her luggage.

She spotted Eloise Avery looking out a window on the train, but she was looking in another direction and didn't notice Svea, not that she wanted to catch her attention when her grandparents were around. If they were around that is, one short playdate and tales of admiration from her own grandfather was enough to cement a cold and unloving image in Svea's head. She shuddered at the memory, she was grateful beyond word that her grandparents were nothing like that. Well, her Sauvageon grandparents. It's a safe bet that all Grandfather Marcius aspires to be is a slightly less rich and more grumbling version of the "great and powerful" Lady Avery.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, Svea hugged Iliana and Aunt Brigitta goodbye, promising to write and look after herself, before quickly boarding the train to find an empty compartment to save for herself, Syn, and Hvitty. The Lothbroks were amongst their closest wizarding friends in Scandinavia and practically family to Svea, she was pleased beyond measure to have her best friend at this far away school too. She'd always been fairly independent, but having familiar faces at Hogwarts would be a great comfort too, and endless fun. No one knows how to enjoy things like a Lothbrok. Okay, like Syn. No one knows how to party like Syn. Even at 11, she was more fun and energetic than anyone you could think of.

She waited by the window until she spotted them getting on, before rushing to the corridor to call them over. The subsequent assault (as she would put it, they might just call it a hug) nearly took Svea's head off. Grinning at being reunited, they chatted throughout the train ride, and purchased ridiculous amounts of British Wizarding Treats when the Trolley lady stopped by. They also met some other first years as well, some of whom, Svea noted, were less than pleased to be in such a rowdy compartment.

Once they neared the school (or as Svea's alarms warned her they were), she changed into her school robes, dragging along Syn to do the same who complained that they were "nowhere near there yet". However, exactly as her alarm warned her, they were at Hogsmeade station within 30 minutes. ("hah! Told you so Tamsyn", she screamed internally and definitely not with every fibre of her being). Seperating from the others, Svea, Syn, and Hvitty disembarked from the train together, where they and the other first years were greeted by a staff member from Hogwarts who led them to a number of boats. Grabbing a boat upfront, they were joined by Henry Clark, whom they had met on the train and whom Syn had immediately given the nickname "Hank", which he seemed to vehemently dislike. Once they had all boarded, the boat seemed to propel themselves as they all sailed across the vast lake. The Black Lake, she recalled it was called. Her cousin Viggo often talked about visiting it one day.

"Vig told me that there's a colony of merpeople living in the lake." Svea excitedly mentioned to Syn and Hvitty as they crossed, gazing down into the murky water to try to spot one.

"Fishman would know." replied Syn, joining Svea to look over the edge of the boat.

"He's not a Fishman."

"As always, you're right." said Syn, nodding solemnly before adding, "He's a half-fishman."

"Well, you're not wrong there," Svea conceded.

Syn grinned triumphantly as Svea dipped her fingers into the water. It was cold, just as Vig told her it would be, but it wasn't as cold as the water in Lake Mälaren.

Despite having been raised in marble coated mansions, even Svea was awestruck when they neared Hogwarts Castle. Whilst Sauvageon Slott was certainly brighter, the large stone structure was absolutely stunning, and far more inviting than her father and family's descriptions of Durmstrang. As much as she loathed her mother's family, she was glad just this once at their persistence of doing things the "English" way. The little boats they were in soon passed through an ivy curtain and carried them along a dark tunnel, which seemed to run beneath the castle itself, and eventually docked by some rocks at what seemed to be an underground harbour of sorts.

Once all the students were out of the boats they were led to a small room (the Chamber of Reception, she later learned it was called), where they were greeted by a tall, red haired woman. She introduced herself as Professor Hester Weasley, Deputy Headmistress. She ushered them into the Great Hall and began reading their names out one by one in alphabetical order. Once called, they were to sit on a stool facing the other students and had a dingy old hat placed on their head which would announce what house they're to join after thinking about it for a bit. It might be a magic, talking, singing hat, but the whole process seemed unnecessarily drawn out and somewhat silly to Svea. She was fairly certain it was thought up by someone forest crazy (Swedish phrase, equivalent to "raging mad").

Svea's was amongst the last few names to be called. Hvitty went off to Gryffindor, and Syn to Hufflepuff. Eloise went to Slytherin, whilst Hank (*wink-wink* @.ghostpastey) went to Gryffindor. She noted that the hat had barely gotten within a foot of Damien Greaves' head before it screamed Slytherin. When the Headmistress finally said her name, Svea tottered up to the little stool, starving by that point and eager to get on with dinner and classes in the morning.

"Impatient, aren't we?" said a voice in her head once the hat was on, 'causing Svea to nearly jump out of her skin. She didn't realize it was talking during those minutes in-between the hat being worn and shouting the student's house.

"I'm hungry," she replied, well, thought, once she had brought her spikes down (Swedish phrase effectively meaning to "chill" -shrug emoji- Sweden is weird, also, awesome). "Any recommendations on what's good?"

The hat chucked in her ear, mind's ear. "Try the steak and yorkshire pudding," her mouth began watering at steak, she needed it now. "I'll try to be quick then. Swedish I see, muggle friends, oh dear, the ministry won't be happy about that breach of secrecy," the hat muttered as it rummaged through her mind.

Svea shrugged. "Not my ministry. Can you hurry it up, I don't really care, but I would prefer not Slytherin."

"Not Slytherin, eh? And why is that?"

"To infuriate my mother."

"But I see you also have the desire to be in Slytherin to outshine her and your grandfather, quite petty, no?"

"Yes, but I am only 10."

"Then would you prefer to be petty? I see great things for you in Ravenclaw, where those of wit and learning find their own kind. You have a great thirst for knowledge."

Svea shrugged again. "Whatever magic hat, isn't it your job to figure that out?"

The sorting hat sighed. "SLYTHERIN!" it shouted aloud, applause erupting on the table to her far right. The hat was barely off her head before she practically bounded over. She was so hungry and there were only a handful of students left to be sorted before she could finally eat. She ended up next to a third year and the speedily sorted boy from earlier.

"Svea," she said, introducing herself with a smile as another students sorting began.

"Damien," he gruffly replied.

"You shouldn't look so murderous, you're 11." She chided, impatiently tapping her foot whilst the last children were finally being sorted.

Damien rolled his eyes. "What if I am one?"

"Then you shouldn't be broadcasting that desire to everyone. Isn’t a killer best served if their intentions are secretive?" before he could retort, however, Svea's attention turned elsewhere. Specifically, their table. "OH YES! FINALLY FOOD! Hey, can you grab me some steak please!" she asked of the boy in front of them. "I'm Svea, by the way. You want one too Damien?"

"I can get it myself, thanks," muttered the British boy, looking quite irritated.

"Seyong Lee, but you can call me Tyler." answered the other one, placing a steak on Svea's plate as well as Damien's.

Once the feast was over (the hat was right about that Steak and Yorkshire Pudding), the Headmistress said a few words, mostly about forbidden places, Svea could feel none of those warnings making it into Syn's ears, and led the school in a rendition of the school song. She noticed some seven years really giving the song their all, and nearly toppled over with laughter. After the song finally ended, Svea and the other first year Slytherins were instructed to follow one of their House Prefects. Svea couldn't remember their name, but recalled them being one of those English Scared 28 people. They followed the prefect back out to the Entrance Hall, and through a door on the right, were led down to the dungeons. When they reached a bare stretch of stonewall, the prefect uttered a phrase and it revealed a passageway which led to the Slytherin common room. The password that month, if she recalled correctly, was "cantankerus".

Svea was less in love with the common room than most of her fellow first years, it was nice enough, but rather dark and dreary, much like the Prince Manor she noted. It had similar colourings of dark shades of green and serpentine décor everywhere (if it were up to her, she'd decorate it with dragons). She did, however, adore the large glass windows, and the water behind it, rushing up to it in excitement when a large squid went swishing by. The prefect explained that they were under the Black Lake and sometimes they saw creatures more interesting than the Giant Squid swim by the windows.

The first night would've ended without incident, but her future bestie just had to be dramatic and get into a physical fight with a seventh year.

"Well, that was dramatic," she commented once the seventh year fell to the floor. "Anyway, where's our stuff and where do we sleep?" Looking back, it was probably impressive that an 11 year old could easily defeat a 17 year old, but meh. She was tired, and she really needed her phone. How can you expect someone to sleep without the honey smooth voices of Eurovision performers?

The year went by quite quickly. Her hair only remained valyrian silver for about a month, before reverting back to her natural gold, and as expected, she ended all her classes with top marks. She enjoyed History of Magic and Potions the most in her first year. Whilst mostly a positive year, she did make some pureblood fervent enemies, but she is not going allow such idioticy to stand in her house. Slytherins are intelligent and cunning, not backwards morons. She recalled Syn dropping out of the sky at point to defend her from a pureblood's oh so hurtful words. But as they say, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words from an idiot do nothing. It was also the first year she celebrated her birthday without her biological family (not including either of the Princes'), she did, however, still have Syn and Hvitty, and a whole new bunch of friends.

Speaking of said friends, time to pull out of memory lane and jump back into the present. With Lili's hair done, and hers' also, once again, done up in Khalessi style (also dyed silver again, she would've dyed Lili's hair too, but the little Swede-Ruski said no), anyway, with their hair finally done, the two siblings went down into the courtyard. The entire Sauvageon estate was decorated in greenery as they were celebrating Midsummer, and before the traditional Sauvageon ball in the evening, they had invited a bunch of friends (mainly Svea's and some of Lili's new friends) to participate in the traditional maypole dance. The Lothbroks, of course, always came along, Norway celebrated Midsummer too, though with a bonfire instead of dancing around a maypole, so weird (that's sarcastic, Sweden is obvs the weirdo here). Minah, and Eloise, and Damien, of course, came along, well, the latter two of whom had to be somewhat dragged along, Eloise on the excuse of "observing" the activities of "lesser" beings. And where went M and E, always came T and T, aka Tyler and Theo or as Svea called the three of them, very much without their permission, zaldrīzes raqiror (translation: dragon friends). Moses and Lyrae had also come, and so had Henry, of course, what kind of awful girlfriend would forget to invite her "paramour" (as Svea preferred labelling him). Numerous adorable siblings had come along as well, Xander Carlyle (who would like to clarify he's Henry's cousin, not brother), Tara Lee, forever shipping Minah with the wrong person; it’s Minah and Tyler forever, not Minah and Sungjae (sorry buddy), whom, by the way, was also invited and showed up. Even Lyra and Oberon Greaves had come along, though they were decidedly less comfortable around Svea and Damien. Also somewhat uncomfortable was Loralei Expura, but as Svea explained, in Sweden, you just eat good food, hold hands, and dance in a circle around a weird pole for some reason.

---Post-credit scene with the zaldrīzes raqiror---

Theo: *leaning up against a tree* I'm not doing that.

Tyler: come on, it looks fun.

Theo: I don't remember asking for your opinion.

Tyler: you're lucky to have been graced with it.

Svea: *suddenly apparates to where they are* Just shut up and hold hands already, you're killing the vibe!

#hsww #writing #story #mine #contest entry #Svea Sauvageon

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Ghost” Part 2

Bane’s wife is a mystery to everyone, including her husband. Ghost also happens to be The Joker’s little obsession, not that she ever pays attention to him. Maybe that’s why The King of Gotham should stop messing around: when you push too much, you might get more than you bargained for.

The Joker and his girlfriend left about 15 minutes ago; Kara was in a bad shape and you offered to drive her car back tomorrow. You have no idea how she made it to your house after the events at the club. You could tell J was fuming and for once he seemed to care about what happened to his woman: maybe it was a little wakeup call The King of Gotham needed. Hard to tell when it comes to these matters due to his spectacular personality.

One thing’s for sure though: after his arrival Kara couldn’t stop crying and Ghost knew why. The Joker’s girlfriend merely escaped assault and him giving a damn about the ordeal made her overemotional: it was the first time he showed some real interest outside the bedroom; he held her hand all the way to the car and didn’t even mind a kiss before she got in.

“You’re awfully quiet,” your husband points out. “You’ve been staring out the windows at the empty parking lot since they left. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah…I’m fine,” you turn only to see him signal for you.

Bane is not stupid; he can tell you’re distracted and he can guess the reason. As soon as you straddle his lap he rests his forehead on yours, choosing to dig a bit dipper without sugar coating his objective.

“Are you thinking about that day?”

You take such a strenuous breath there’s no need for a verbal confirmation.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You are aware of the meaning: your spouse is not asking for details, he’s just bringing it up in case you want to share your feelings regarding Kara’s unfortunate experience.

You caress his bald head and sigh, prepared to describe the facts.

Bane never mentioned anything about the first time you’ve met simply because he always assumed he understood what he saw five years ago. The truth is he didn’t.

“When…when you found me…” you gulp and he distinguishes the struggle.

“Hey,” your husband whispers. “That’s not why I brought it up. You don’t have to re-live the past; I was trying to hint that if you want to discuss…”

He twists a strand of your white hair around his finger while you interrupt:

“When you found me behind the truck, that guy wasn’t trying to rape me; he was trying to kill me.”

Bane’s not wearing his mask and you can read the conflicting emotions written all over his face.

“Vee was my ex,” you continue and pause in order to gather your thoughts. “When I learned he was involved in human trafficking, I urged him to quit. The money was great and he refused so I planned to disappear and help some girls flee in the process. I was very careful yet he still perceived my intentions and when you bumped into us… he was trying to finish me so I won’t be any trouble for his boss and their line of business.”

“Shit…” HB mumbles, hating that his Ghost looks upset.

“I wasn’t defending myself from a rapist, I was fighting for my life. What do you think about that, hm?” you throw the question at him and his reply doesn’t fail:

“That whatever- his-name-was-your-ex had it coming. You can’t kill a Goddess! A man is lucky enough to encounter one and if he fucks up, then he signs up for the bitter consequences.”

A few moments of complete silence, then Bane hears his favorite words:

“I love you,” Y/N pecks the thin scars across his nose and decides to turn the gloomy night into a more accommodating situation. “We were having lots of fun when the unexpected guest barged in; we should stick to the original schedule and reprise our activity.”

“Agree,” Bane squeezes you in his strong arms tighter. “A tiny Ghost might be already in here,” he softly rubs your tummy.

“Or a handsome little brute,” you giggle and he has to underline:

“However, it doesn’t hurt to keep practicing.”

“U-hum,” you wink and he likes the smile forming on your lips, infinitely better than having his wife distressed about an incident that almost ended her existence.

*************

5 Years Ago

Bane was done loading the supplies he wanted in his truck, lingering at the spot chosen for that evening’s transaction. It was consistently a random place where everyone that wanted to buy or sell could get together and exchange merchandise; under the radar of course, since the negotiations were less than legal and the individuals present could have easily be enlisted on FBI’s most wanted list.

A lot of turmoil and movement at the campsite, but he still detected a woman’s scream; he carefully listened when it happened again. Bane circled his truck and walked between the vehicles stationed there until his heavy steps abruptly halted: there was a lady trying to get from under a limp body collapsed on top of hers, still holding the rock she used in order to defend herself.

You crawled from under Vee and froze when you noticed Bane glaring at you. Y/N recognized the masked man: he was starting to gain a certain reputation, not that it was his purpose; he only stuck to his agenda and didn’t give a damn about anything else.

Your future spouse believed that one of the imbeciles tried to sample the merchandise and got more than he could chew; he also knew they didn’t like the girls to rebel and the price paid if they did.

That feral look in your eyes reminded him of the same fire that fueled his veins every time he attempted to get out of the accursed Pit; made him take a decision he never regretted: instead of alerting the others and score a nice bonus for cooperation, Bane gave you a choice.

“If you want to survive, come with me.”

You hesitated: was he toying with you before sounding the alarm?! The pile of muscles indifferently distanced from the scene and you got on your feet, stumbling from the aftermath of almost being assassinated by your former boyfriend. Vee was out cold and you dropped the rock by his feet, not bothering to check if he was dead.

You followed Bane to his truck and he gestured for you to hop in the back; it was difficult to fit in between the boxes yet you managed anyway. He covered everything with the tarp and advised while sealing the way out:

“Stay put!”

It was a nerve wracking couple of hours: Bane drove away immediately and you had no clue about what will occur next. Where was he taking you anyway?

**********

He pried the door and Y/N strolled inside when she realized he was keeping it opened for her. “This is a gated, private property; we’re right outside Gotham, north of Willow Creek. You should lay low: by know they must have identified the guy and they might be searching for the responsible party.”

He was thinking you were “one of the girls” and you didn’t correct him.

“I had no clue I’ll find myself in this mess,” you skeptically brought it up. “I should go to my apartment and pack suitcases.”

“Bad idea,” the distorted voice huffed. “You should disappear, it’s safer. Those are not the type of people you want to cross!”

You nervously played with the hem of your torn dress and Bane added:

“There are clean clothes in the bedroom; you can use one of my t-shirts. I’ll bring some items your size tomorrow.”

“You’re not staying?!” you inquired, perplexed.

“Nope, I’m busy. Give yourself a tour; I’m positive you can cope with my absence.”

He saw the doubt and muttered:

“You’re not a prisoner; you can leave. Close the gates if you do. If I were you, I would linger on the premises.”

That’s all he said and left a very confused Y/N in the middle of the living room. You wished to ask why he was aiding a total stranger, but you figured it was dumb to do so: Bane seemed like the type of man that didn’t do things unless he felt like it. Period.

You curiously inspected the house, marveled that it was neat and organized: four bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs, the spacious living room, another bathroom and the kitchen downstairs. The dust settled on the counters indicated the hideout wasn’t used very often; the decorations were minimal, mostly functional, basic furniture.

You were grateful when you opened the fridge and found some food that was still eatable: the precooked kind but you weren’t picky at that point. After warming up a container in the microwave, Y/N took a sit at the table; with the crazy events that spiraled out of control she didn’t have time to reflect about her current predicament.

It hit as you were munching on your ravioli: how the hell did you end up there?! A sudden, unbearable sense of isolation washed all over you, the numbness that protected you from the initial shock gradually dissipating in thin air.

You had no plan. None whatsoever.

Was it better to go with the flow until you could outline a strategy aimed to get you out of the deep whole you accidentally sunk in? Maybe…

So you did.

**************

Next morning, Bane popped at the residence as promised; at 10:12 am he discovered a hyper Y/N tidying up the kitchen: after a sleepless night and six cups of coffee, she was pretty much invincible. You were wearing one of his military print t-shirts: it was big and he was somehow amused to see you swim in the garment.

“I brought you clothes, shoes and food,” Bane grumbled and arranged boxes on the chair closer to you. “I estimated on the size.”

“Thank you,” the sincerity in your voice proved you meant it. “Thank you for helping me.”

“U-hum,” he intensely gazed at you and maybe because you weren’t in your best shape you misinterpreted his demeanor: was your savior expecting some sort of reward? Since you didn’t have much to offer at that time, Bane probably wanted sex as compensation for his services. If he would have taken what he wanted by force, you reckoned it wouldn’t have been pleasant, not with a man his size; not putting up a fight could have made it at least bearable.

Your logic was way off though: as soon as you took your t-shirt off he came near, picked it from the floor and dressed you back himself.

“You don’t have to do that,” he emphasized and saw how embarrassed you were. “Do you know how to load guns?” Bane switched the dialogue without making it awkward.

“Not really…”

“I’ll show you; I have a project coming up and you can assist.”

“OK,” you were fast to accept as it was an easy way to repay him.

“Besides cracking someone’s skull with a rock, do you know how to defend yourself?” the interrogation continued.

”If I have to.”

“Comes in handy,” he muffled the words beyond the mask and promptly took it off so he can enjoy the coffee too.

It was the first time you saw Bane minus the breathing device; definitely not what you imagined: he was good-looking. HB had a few thin scars across his nose and a thicker one above the upper lip that added a certain flair to his wholesomeness.

He caught you staring and misjudged:

“What?” he growled, pouring hot liquid in a mug. “Is the view not up to your standards?”

Y/N has always been a direct person, that’s why she described exactly what was in her mind:

“I was actually thinking that you’re handsome.”

One of Bane’s eyebrows went high and he huffed at the candid remark:

“Hm… … I’ve been called worse.”

You bit on your cheek and waited for him to finish his coffee in silence, but he had more to say.

“You should change your appearance; it’s safer if they’re searching around for the runaway girl that dared retaliate.”

You nodded a yes, wondering how you could accomplish such task. He wasn’t wrong: it would have evidently aided if they were indeed hunting for you.

“I know somebody,” Bane insinuated the path of action. “I can bring Zorina here and she can work her magic; the woman’s a pro.”

“Sure,” you welcomed his proposal and instantly blurred out: “I have money stashed at my apartment; it’s a hefty sum, all cash. I’ll have to retrieve it then I will be able to reimburse you for everything you’re doing for me.”

He snorted, entertained at your passionate tirade:

“Reimbursed!” Bane repeated and slammed the cup on the counter, preparing to bail. “Don’t worry about that; they might have the condo under surveillance or maybe they already raided the rooms and took your money.”

“I hope not…” you frowned, swiftly tense at his warning.

“Wait for Zorina,” the suggestion alleviated your anxiety a bit. “I’ll text her and she can be here in one hour. I am going out of town in the morning; I will return on the 27th,” he grabbed his mask from the table. “If you have an emergency, call the number I uploaded as an emergency contact,” Bane handed you a brand new cell phone.

“Will you be the one answering?” Y/N asked.

“Yes,” he confirmed and noticed how relieved you seemed at his affirmation.

Bane came back after 10 days, on the 27th as scheduled. You were outside on the porch and he stopped in his tracks when you emerged from behind the wood pillars.

“How do I look like?” you presented the new Y/N to the stunned man instead of a conventional greeting: your hair was completely white, shaved on the left side and the fresh skull tattoo inked on the exposed skin completed the ensemble quite beautifully. The dark red eyeshadow and black leather suit scored extra points with your future husband.

Bane was a straightforward person and didn’t utter words unless he meant them, yet the unpredicted reply still made you smile:

“Like a Goddess.”

*************

For the next six months you helped with whatever was necessary: it kept you busy and while you understood everything was a test, you were able to form your own opinions too.

Bane wasn’t a mindless brute: he was intelligent, outspoken and articulate; the crew didn’t question his decisions not necessarily due to his physical appearance that indicated he could level anyone to the ground with one punch, but because they respected him.

You blindly plunged into an unfamiliar environment: in the great scheme of things, your ex Vee has invariably been a pawn struggling to find his way up to the top. Weren’t you the same now? Another small piece of the puzzle trying to figure out where it belongs?

You weren’t positive so you kept your distance from the team members and never really talk to them; Y/N only did what she was told and stayed away from social interactions. After your disappointing past experiences, one could have said you didn’t like people. Why bother?

Even Bane was probably going to send you on your way soon: he kept on coming to the house more often and your best speculation was that he was getting ready to tell you to vacate the property. Which was fair; you couldn’t rely on his hospitality forever. And for some reason it made you sad.

It was true that Bane dropped by more often: from barely visiting the hideout once a month before your arrival, he multiplied his visits to 3-4 times a week. Under the pretext of checking up on his protégé and give her assignments, of course. It had nothing to do with how much he liked seeing your face light up every time he was around.

One night you fell asleep in front of the fireplace: it was cozy to pile up blankets and watch the longs burn until they turned into ashes. You woke up around 2 in the morning and stretched, surprised to see Bane passed out on the couch a couple of feet away. You didn’t hear him sneak in and assumed he had a motive for being there: to finally tell you he wanted the residence evacuated.

You rolled over and got on your knees, carefully placing two more logs on top of the dying fire.

“Add more,” the deep tone made you jump. “It’s getting chilly.”

“Hi,” you tilted your head to look at him. “I didn’t mean to awake you,” you apologized and did as requested.

“You didn’t,” Bane rubbed his eyes, totally used with short power naps instead of dozing off for hours.

You delayed more conversation, but it had to be addressed although you dreaded the subject; maybe he was expecting you to get the hint so you gathered the courage to speak up:

“I was debating… I should…e-hem…” you fakely coughed, “… find a new establishment…”

“Don’t you wanna stay?” he cut you off.

“I do,” you admitted, “but it’s not fair to take advantage of…”

Bane’s laughter at the statement made you halt your small presentation; it was his strategy of disguising how discouraged he was at your arbitrary idea.

“I doubt I’m the type that can be taken advantage of,” he got on his elbow and you abandoned the warmth of the fireplace in order to sit down by him on the sofa. “You don’t have to go anywhere…unless you wish to,” he gave you choices once more.

You glared at each other for a few seconds and then you demanded:

“Can you please take your mask off?”

“Why?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Bane unsnapped the leather straps without a second invitation: God knows he seldom dreamed about it without paying attention to what it truly meant.

Your lips touched and the intimacy made him slowly pull you in his arms; it seemed natural that the woman he was in love with belonged there.

“My name is Y/N,” you suddenly moaned in between kisses and Bane paused, eager to mention:

“For your own safety I suggest to never disclose it to another living soul. It’s better if you don’t exist; a ghost doesn’t have a past or present thus can never be seized.”

“I like the notion of being a Ghost,” you intertwined your fingers with his. “And you have to call me something; the rest of the world also.”

“Sounds like you got yourself a deal,” Bane grinned and instantly cautioned: “I also have to bring up to your attention that I’ve never slept with a Goddess before.”

Your mouth got close to his ear and you whispered:

“I’ve never slept with a Handsome Brute but I believe we’ll manage.”

************

Today, 1:13 am

Your cell phone keeps on vibrating on the nightstand; attempting to ignore the insufferable noise might wake up Bane: you exhausted your husband last night and he has to recharge. You’ll probably need his services by morning time so… might as well make an effort for his sake.

Great, it’s The Joker.

“Hello?” you keep your voice down.

“I was thinking,” the insomniac King of Gotham gets straight to the core of the issue without apologizing for the late call. “Next time Bane’s out of town and you don’t accompany him, I should take you out to dinner; then we can get some stuff out of our system.”

Is he for reals?!

“I have a better proposal!” you hiss, irritated. “Next time Bane’s out of town without me, you’ll take your girlfriend out to dinner and then you can get whatever you want out of your system with her!! I’ll wait for my husband and then when he comes home he’ll know how to take care of my system!! GOT IT??!!” you hang up and J is displeased at your behavior:

“How fucking rude!” he puffs, cuddling next to Kara; she’s snoozing after her misfortune.

“Who’s that?” your spouse groans.

“Uggghh,” you snuggle to his chest, aggravated by J’s crap.

“Idiot…” HB wraps both naked bodies tighter in the fluffy cover since he guessed the name; your reaction is enough clue.

Ghost pecks his shoulder and gradually relaxes, 100% convinced of the only truth in her life: if she ends up with nothing again, as long as he’s there she will still have everything.

Part 1: diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/187322128171/the-joker-x-reader-ghost-part-1