#and yet so far nothing has disproved it
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how we feeling over this moment chat
#no but why in the first episode was i like ‘hm yknow what would be funny? if gwen and alice had an enemies to lovers arc’#and yet so far nothing has disproved it#tmagp#the magnus protocol#tmagp spoilers#kinda???#alice dyer#gwendolyn bouchard#dyhard
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When you're lost in the Darkness
Pairing: Astarion x Reader
Summary: Astarion suspects that you're afraid of the dark. What he doesn't know, is that not only will he soon be proven right, but he severely underestimated just how severe your fear is.
Word Count: 2.4k
Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, nyctophobia, brief description of panic attack, possibly ooc Astarion, literally one use of y/n
A/N: Hey hi hello, I am back from the void for now. I would like to make a disclamier: I have not yet played BG3!! So, if anyone is out of character, I apologize!
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Astarion has a theory.
A small and rather unimportant one, but a theory nonetheless.
It started when he noticed the way you set up your bed roll when the group makes camp for the night. You’re always as close to the fire as you can be without lighting yourself aflame, and when it dims to a certain point, he’s watched you rouse out of a dead sleep to stoke the coals and add more fuel. At first, he thought perhaps you were just prone to chills – he knows some people run cold when they sleep – but after lingering after one of your shared nights together, he came to realise that you’re actually more like a mostly-human furnace.
Then he noticed the way you linger around any sort of light source like a moth to a flame after the sun has set, and the way you fidget and glance over you shoulder every few minutes on the off chance your back is to the darkness.
He finds it strange. Granted, he thinks you’re strange for a variety of other reasons, but this pattern of behaviour is particularly puzzling to him. Which has lead him to his theory;
“You’re afraid of the dark.” He jests after watching you glance into the woods for the umpteenth time, aiming for teasing and realising he’s missed when your face falls into something akin to shame and discomfort.
You try to cover it with a scoff, rolling your eyes in a way he knows is meant to feign indifference, “I have far worse things to fear than the dark.” You spit those last two words, as if they taste bitter on your tongue. Firelight dances in your eyes as you keep your gaze trained firmly on him, even despite how much you look like you want too search for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself is out there, intent on disproving him.
“True,” He smirks with a practiced ease, suddenly – strangely – desperate to ease the tension he’s just created, “But should you ever find yourself too afraid to sleep alone,” He leans in just a smidgen closer, grinning coquettishly, “My arms are always open.”
You snort, the tension in your shoulders ebbing just so as you chuckle, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
“By all means, keep me in your thoughts as long as you wish, darling.” He hums, smile just a little softer than he intends when you genuinely laugh at that, the sound sweet and airy as it bubbles up from your throat.
“And with that, I’m off to bed.” He nearly mistakes incredulousness for fondness, but catches himself as you stand. Turning back for just a moment, you give him a smile so soft, it makes is gut twist with a feeling he’s a little unsure of, “Goodnight, Astarion.”
If he’d fed more recently, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed. He blinks, clears his throat, “Sleep well, my sweet.”
Only days later, his theory is proven correct when you stumble upon some sort of abandoned cottage – House? Astarion’s not entirely sure – and, upon Gale’s insistence that it could be useful, decide to search it for wares.
“You do know there’s likely nothing of use in here, don’t you?” Shadowheart sighs impassively as she thumbs through a tattered book, slotting it back into place where she found it once she’s deemed it useless.
Gale huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, we won’t know until we look, will we?”
“We won’t be finding much of anything if you two don’t quit your squabbling.” You quip before turning your attention back to the chest you were searching. You just barely lean into Astarion’s space, grinning impishly. He leans in just a little closer – only to hear you better, of course – as you whisper, “They’re like children, I tell you.”
Something shatters. You both turn just as Shadowheart fixes Gale with a stern look, “Hells, Gale, pay attention to where you’re going!”
“Wh- It’s not my fault!”
Astarion raises a brow at their bickering, tutting amusedly, “Children, indeed.”
Huffing a laugh, your attention slides to a door on the far side of the room and move to investigate. After trying the handle and finding it jammed, it takes a good shove to get it open. The only thing that illuminates the small pantry is the light filtering in from the door you’ve just opened.
You seem content to simply skim over the contents of the room from where you’re standing until you spot something of interest, eyes lighting up with a little gasp.
Astarion takes your place in the doorway as you rush into the room after propping the door open with a nearby pail, curious, “What have you found?”
Snatching a little tin box off a shelf, you open it and beam, “Oh, I haven’t had this in ages!”
“What?” He asks again, a little impatient.
You hold it out to him, and when he comes closer to look over the lip of the tin, he finds a fair amount of shredded, aubergine coloured leaves inside.
He looks back to you, confused, “Tea?”
“Tea.” You grin, holding it up to your nose and closing your eyes to revel in the fruity scent, “I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s delicious.”
With how delighted you are over finding it, he doesn’t doubt it.
“Well, at least we can tell the others our searching wasn’t in vain.” He turns, “Settle that dispute between Gale and Shadowhear-.” The toe of his boot bumps the pail, sending it rolling as the door swings shut and swathes the room in darkness.
It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, the door comes back into view, only now the faded sage green paint is a dull grey.
Just as he moves for the door, he’s startled by the clattering of metal and a loud bump. He whips around to ask what in the hells just happened, but the words die in his throat when he finds you pressed flat against the shelves on the far wall – which really isn’t that far considering there’s only about six feet between the two of you. He can hear your heart racing from where he’s standing, your breaths quick and shallow.
That theory he had just got a lot more important.
He calls your name and you flinch, gaze flitting in his general direction but never settling on him. You look well and truly petrified. “Darling, are you alright?”
It’s a terrible question considering you are very visibly not alright, but he can’t seem to come up with anything else fast enough.
“I can’t–.” Your voice cracks and you swallow, looking dreadfully close to tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with your hands, “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”
“Hang on,” After trying the handle, he finds the door is jammed no matter how hard he yanks. He considers calling for Karlach or Wyll, but thinks better of it, not wanting to frighten you further. They’ll notice the two of you are missing and come looking eventually.
“Astarion.” His name from your lips pulls him from his thoughts. He usually loves hearing you say his name, even when your cross with him. But when it comes out like a pitiful mix between whisper and whimper, he finds his heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.
He turns back to you and stalls. Unsure, helpless. He wants desperately to comfort you, but he has no idea how. He goes over the many different ways he could try, and the many different ways you could react, before finally, “Tell me what you need.”
After a moment of hesitation, you hold out a trembling hand and he steps forward to take it without a second thought. You tense when his skin first meets yours, palms wet with tears as your breath hitches. You tug him closer to wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline, shaking terribly as you bury your face into his neck. He secures you to him with an arm around your back and a hand cupped over the nape of your neck. He can feel your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips when they settle over your pulse.
You’re still gasping.
“You need to breathe, lovely.” He says it gently, voice void of his usual coquettish flare. The nickname is softer than what he’s used with you so far, and it feels and sounds more earnest than it should. He tries not to dwell on it as he soothes his palm up and down the length of your spine, “Try to mimic me. I’ll guide you, alright?”
You nod, and when starts coaching you through each inhale and exhale, you do your best to follow.
It takes several breaths, but eventually, they grow deeper and stop catching in your chest. Your heart slows. Not by a lot, but enough that Astarion can stop worrying that you’ll work yourself into a panic induced fainting spell.
He guides you through a few more before asking, “Better?”
You nod. With your throat dried out from crying, your voice is rather croak-y when you reply, “A little.”
“You sound like a frog.” It startles a laugh from you, the sound letting Astarion breathe a little easier.
“I do!” You sniffle, still laughing. It makes him laugh too.
“What the hells is so funny in there?” Lae’zel shouts from the other side with all her usual charm.
“Frogs!” Astarion shouts back, and you giggle a little more.
There’s a few loud bangs as one of your friends attempts to open the door. He can feel you flinch with each one until finally, it bursts open, blessed light washing over the two of you despite Karlach towering in the doorway. Your body sags with relief, and a little, involuntary sound escapes you as a new wave of tears threatens to spill, this time for an entirely different reason.
“What happened in here?” Gale asks, looking wildly confused as you slip out of Astarion’s arms and wipe at your cheeks hastily.
“Oh, erm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, gaze bouncing between the items the fell when you backed into the shelf before settling on the tea leaves. You look genuinely disappointed as you gesture vaguely towards the small pile on the floor, “I found a tea I really like and got upset when I dropped it.”
“Ah. I see.” Gale nods, still obviously perplexed. If any of them find the explanation odd, they don’t say anything.
Shadowheart leans around Karlach, “We should get a move on. There are only so many hours before sundown.”
“Right. Yes, that’s a good idea.” You nod, clearly thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of there as you squeeze past them and lead them outside.
Much to Astarion’s chagrin, Karlach turns when she notices he’s hung back, “Oi, Astarion. What are you doing?”
He glances between her and the pantry before huffing, “Just... Tell them to wait a moment.”
She narrows her eyes suspiciously but agrees, leaving him to tell you and the others. He makes his way back into the pantry for a moment before jogging outside to join you.
It’s a good few hours until you make camp, and another few before he finally plucks up the courage to approach you near your tent.
You notice him striding over and smile at the sight of him, “Astarion! To what to I owe the pleasure?”
“I come bearing gifts.” He announces dramatically, hoping his puckish grin will be enough to mask how incredibly fucking nervous he truly is.
“For me?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to one side.
He rolls his eyes playfully, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, would I?”
“Well obviously, I just meant–,” You huff and shake your head, chuckling incredulously, “Never mind. What have you got for me?”
He holds out the tin and watches surprise and confusion flash over your face in quick succession before something unbearably soft settles over your features.
Taking it from him, you’re quick to pop the lid off. You gasp when you lay eyes on the contents, eyes wide when you look back at him with such wonder, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, “How did you–?”
“I salvaged what I could off the top of the pile. I– erm,” He clears his throat, “I thought it would be wasteful to leave perfectly good tea behind when at least one of us could enjoy what’s left of it. Irresponsible, even.”
You huff a laugh. There’s no mistaking the fondness this time.
“You’re absolutely right. That would be irresponsible of us.” Your smile shifts into something heart achingly earnest as you step closer and lean up to peck his cheek, “Thank you.”
“Of course, love.” He’s aiming for coquettish but it comes out too sincere to be convincing. That feeling twists at his chest again and it’s only now that he realises what it is.
He actually, genuinely cares for you.
Rattled, he feigns a yawn and smirks, “Well, as much as I adore your company, I really must be off to bed. Beauty sleep, and all that.”
“Right!” You seem to startle yourself with your own volume and clear your throat, chuckling awkwardly, “Right, of course. Goodnight, Astarion.”
He takes a mere second to mull it over before he throws caution to the wind and cradles the side of your neck in his palm, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw as he presses his lips to the apple of your opposite cheek. Before he takes time to actually think over his new found feelings and potentially freak himself out, he’s going to let himself indulge in you just a little while longer.
Pulling back, he brushes the back of his knuckles over the skin he just kissed, “Goodnight, Y/n.”
He can hear your heart thump, thump, thumping as he walks towards his own tent. The feelings he has for you are a new and rather inconvenient development. But if later he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind?
No one has to know just yet.
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I’ll never get over this - what an insanely cryptic statement to make . It’s also interesting that GRRM will give long rambling answers about other ships (as he tends to do in interviews and asks) but this is his response here. Short and sweet but ambiguous and entirely up to one’s interpretation - essentially think about what you’ve read.
And then it had me thinking…
To imply that George isn’t a careful writer and doesn’t put immensely intricate thought into every sentence he writes is entirely reductive to him as a writer. Especially if you claim to be a fan of said writing (you’d have to be apart of this fandom). This is the man who has taken 13 years to write TWOW, who consistently writes, scraps, and rewrites chapters if he dislikes them or they don’t fit what he’s envisioned.
And with a fandom that has discussed, debated and analysed every possible theory - providing some well-thought out essays onto the internet, consistently stating that nothing is ever a coincidence with George before delving into a lengthy analysis - it has me wondering why said theorists and ‘very intelligent’ contingents of fans will be grasping, bursting blood vessels, losing their mind and their sanity in the process just to disprove a possible match between J/S.
Now as an example that I’ve come across just yesterday on the infamous r/asoiaf - When S*nsan is brought into the conversation, it’s absolutely accepted as a plausible theory due to *checks notes* people devoting time to and picking apart evidence and to the wider fandom either not dismissing it or remaining neutral about it. (I mean, the redditor I was made privy to yesterday just disproved the Ashford tourney theory and it’s connection to Jon on the basis that it was made by a s*nsan shipper - wow !! Thanks :)) I never knew , finally my rose tinted glasses have been removed and I can bow down to you, oh wise redditor … these J words are CRAZY delusionals indeed!!
This is just one example among the many of the possible future romances that are debated endlessly on the various social media platforms , and all said ships - whether they’ve met or interacted or are very close or whatever require analysis . Deep deep analysis. Picking apart sentences, imagery, chapter ordering, literary references you name it . We all become literature students, and every ship is privy to it and hey ! More power to them - we’re all just having fun here theorising about all the possibilities for a book/s that has not yet been released.
So it begs the question , and bear with me here - I know I’ve been talking quite a lot about people opposed to and entirely dismissive of my ship - but yesterdays’ conundrum had me thinking about generalised fandom receptiveness.
See, normal fans (normal people) when presented with a theory that they genuinely believe to be so absurd/dislike/are entirely opposed to , would simply block the user, filter the content, and move on with their lives. A far happier solution, it means you’re not worked into a frenzy over something you’re aware you don’t like. Yay! Everyone’s happy! But…..
People must be debby-downers and ruin the fun , turning into genuine clouds of negativity, invading tags in which they don’t belong, creating anti blogs, writing lengthy essays disproving it all - yep, we’ve seen it, and we just ignore it as best we can.
But it gets to a point where it’s just frustrating. Because this is all so painfully hypocritical. If said intelligent fandom can provide 3 hour video essays, 50,000 word essays and reddit debates of threads with 100+ replies based on the notion of tyrion being a targaryen, or j*nrya is actually canon or the blue rose is metaphor for a future romance whatever theory that’s been put into the world - why - gods why does the entire fandom jump on the bandwagon of hating/dismissing Jonsa as soon as it’s brought up as a theory??
When we are just doing what everyone else has been doing vigorously for the last 13 years - theorising, analysing, debating like we’re literature students (and I’m a lit major, so it does feel this way). And whilst we quietly engage with and make our content, we’re ridiculed, picked apart, and vilified elsewhere for being awfully stupid people - because ….why?? Oh yes, that’s right - it is not a valid plausible theory at all, we just ship it because we self insert as sansa and jon is a heroic figure or the even sillier assumption - because Kit and Sophie are attractive people (which indeed they are, but most theories stem from the books, lmao.)
Sooo, essentially jonsas aren’t allowed into the club because …. (Well I’m actually still wondering why), because every other popular ship theory is either incestuous or involves a child being shipped with a grown person.) so Jonsa is obviously the latter, but that’s not the reason that the general fandom (J*nerys and to an extent, J*nrya) dislike them because those too - are incestuous.
If you’re an individual who is uncomfortable with all incest ships period . Then I respect that since I understand it. What I don’t understand, as seen through reddit and what I was made privy to yesterday, - were the multitude of disprovers fine with J*nerys and J*nrya and S*nsan but god forbid someone brings up Jonsa because then it’s a crackship - except all those other ships I mentioned are valid because people have analysed and theorised and written metas etc etc etc and Jonsa’s are just plain silly crackshippers.
I really have to wonder about fandom mentality, because it’s making less and less sense to me ….
Anyway George you ARE a sly one and I’ll always giggle when I come across that image.
#jonsa#jon x sansa#anti sansa antis#fandom mentality#anti asoiaf reddit#anti asoiaf fandom#anti jonrya#anti jonerys#anti sansan
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐕! THE NIGHT IN QUESTION
<- prev masterlist next ->
"and here's to finishing finals!"
you grin alongside your friends, clinking your glass with theirs as you all take your first drink of the night. you're not even being dramatic when you can practically feel the weight of the past month's stress melting away as soon as the slight burn of alcohol meets your lips, and it's clear that your friends share the same sentiment with the almost collective sigh of relief that you all breathe, despite the crowded atmosphere of the local tavern.
every akademiya scholar had the same idea, flocking straight to the nearby tavern in sumeru as soon as they had finished their final exam, finding the perfect solution to the past month of stress and studying to blow off some steam and drink with their friends. in hindisght, it was lucky that your friends had managed to even snag a table, with most of the other darshan members sinply huddled together in whatever spare space was left.
kaveh suddenly throwing his arm around alhaitham's shoulders brought your attention back to your friends, and you grinned at alhaitham's disgruntled expression before shrugging a tipsy kaveh off of him. though you weren't too far behind the blond in terms of level of sobriety, you still giggled at the way he swayed even while seated, laughing even harder when alhaitham's eyes met yours in dismay as kaveh's head flopped down onto the table.
"take it easy, hm?" nilou reached across the table, patting his hand reassuringly. you could hear a muffled response from the man, before he suddenly sat back up again.
"finals are over," he gushed, his smile spreading to the rest of your table as you grinned and took another sip of your drink. you glance upwards again, feeling the heat of a gaze on you and almost blinking in surprise as you meet the teal-coloured ones of alhaitham's from across the table.
his chin was propped on his hand, head ever so slightly tilted towards you, and you weren't sure whether it was the alcohol or the look in his eyes that had you coughing and saying you would buy everyone some shots.
"careful, make sure you don't end up like kaveh here," dehya smirks at her own joke, the hilariously low tolerance of kaveh often making him the butt of jokes on a night out. kaveh huffed, the slight pink tinge to his cheeks not helping disprove her words.
"everyone here is sho mean to me," he slurred, and you bite back a giggle as you rise to your feet unsteadily. if the effects of your drink hadn't been felt before, they certainly were now as you fully straightened up, feeling the rush to your head.
you frowned, doing a quick headcount of the table.
"are tighnari and layla not here yet?"
you catch nilou and dehya exchange a look, before the redhead hesitantly tells you "they're with cyno." you blink once, nodding at this news.
"so no shots for them, huh?" you grin, trying to break the awkward tension as you slid away from the booth and made your way to the bar on unsteady feet.
you weren't exactly expecting everything to proceed as if nothing has happened, what with you and cyno breaking up a mere month ago, as well as the fact that you both had the same friends. and while there hadn't been any bad blood, per se, between you and cyno, there was still a rather bitter taste in your mouth at the mention of him. one that could get washed down with another drink, you mused to yourself.
your plan to do so was interrupted when you felt yourself collide with someone as you were lost in thought, an automatic apology slipping out of your mouth before your slightly tipsy brain finally recognised the girl in front of you.
"kirara?!" her own eyes widened as she recognised you too, a grin breaking out onto her face.
"hey! how's it been?"
"oh, you know, finals are over so i'm finally taking a break along with rest of the akademiya." as if to prove your point, you hear a particularly loud and drunken yell of a nearby student as he raises his glass above his head in some triumphant scream.
kirara smiles, shifting the glass in her hand to the other. "yeah, i saw the fun and i don't have to go back until tomorrow, so i thought i might as well join." you hummed, watching as her eyes flitted between the students that surrounded you.
"how's the business going?"
"oh, it's doing great. how's, um-" she furrows her brows for a second- "how are you and cyno doing?" that same pang returns, and kirara can see the way your face changes as she puts two and two together.
"ah, sorry."
"hey it's fine, it's not like you-"
"so how long ago did you guys break up?"
"like a month? finals and stuff got really stressful, so yeah." kirara hummed, and you cleared your throat as you started to move past her. "i've gotta go get some more drinks, so see you around, yeah?"
"of course, nice seeing you," she gives you a toothy grin, waving a hand as you continue on through the crowd of scholars, feeling a little more disgruntled.
by the time you had returned to the table of your friends, shots in hand, you were more than eager to throw back your own one, not even grimacing at the taste by this point.
"you guys wanna dance?" you heard nilou shout over the chatter of others and the fainter throes of music from who knows where. you nod enthusiastically, feeling your head swim as nilou grins and takes you and dehya by the hand, starting to lead you further into the crowd. you cast a glance behind you, seeing kaveh back and active again, trying with less success than nilou had to get alhaitham up and onto the dancefloor. you snickered at their little back-and-forth, and how alhaitham didn't even budge despite kaveh's best efforts, before you were whisked too far away into the crowd to see them any more.
this tavern must have been larger than you realised, since you could see a makeshift dancefloor a couple metres away where the music was now much louder. nilou took the lead, raising her arms above her head as she began to sway to the beat, beckoning to both you and dehya to join. your drunk self doesn't take much convincing, and even dehya joins, spinning nilou in a circle which has the redhead giggling.
the night continues in a drunken haze, sounds and colour blending into one as your senses are soon overtaken by the now loudly thumping bassline of the music, as well as the new swarm of bodies surrounding you and your friends as other students joined the already-packed dance floor.
it all got a bit much, and you shouted to tell dehya that you're going to go to the bathroom, getting a quick thumbs up in return. weaving your way through the sea of people makes you feel like you're worthy of joining the adventurer's guild, and you're fairly certain you've had at least one drink spilled onto your outfit by the time you made it to the toilets,
it doesn't quite hit you how drunk you are, until you find yourself clutching the counter and staring at the woozy reflection of yourself on wobbly legs. regardless, you freshen up a bit, waiting for the room to stop spinning before you open the bathroom door again, once again getting hit full force with the sheer volume of the tavern.
and, as it quickly dawned upon you, in your drunken haze you hadn't really planned out on how to exactly get back to your friends. you huffed out a breath, opting to turn on your heel and head back to the bar, only to almost barrel into someone.
"oh my god i'm so sorry-" your words were spilling out quickly due to the alcohol, that heady feeling returning as the stranger steadied you with their hands, and you looked up at their face with some difficulty to see the slightly concerned face of alhaitham peering down at you.
"y/n? where's nilou and dehya?" his words sounded far-off, and you merely giggled before swaying a bit, pointing in the general direction of the dancefloor as your answer.
"went to the bathroom on my own and i lost them." you couldn't help but pout, and you watched as alhaitham scrubbed a hand down his face.
"right, ok, let's get you home then." your eyebrows shot up at his words. he fixed you a firm glance, his warm hands on your shoulders now adding a gentle pressure as he began to guide you towards the exit. "you're clearly drunk, and i don't see you finding either of them any time soon." you open your mouth to complain, only for him to interrupt you before you even talk with a firmer utterance of your name. you frown, and his face softens a fraction before tugging at your arm again. "c'mon, it's late."
"you sound like my fucking dad," you ultimately grumble before relenting, hearing alhaitham snort briefly at your remark as he guides you around the throes of people before the cool night air greets your skin as you leave the tavern. you draw closer to him subconsciously, almost pulled in by his body warmth that seemed to emanate from him on this chilly evening.
much to your dismay, alhaitham had released his grip on your upper arm, now letting the two of you walk in tandem. you frowned to yourself briefly, coveting his warmth again, seeking out for it with your fingers until they met the expanse of his bicep. you wrapped your arm around it, practically giggling to yourself as alhaitham rolled his eyes at your antics. it felt nice, having something to keep yourself warm as you began to walk in the direction of your house, and clinging to his arm until you were practically pressed into his side also had the added bonus of ensuring that you wouldn't stumble and fall into the road.
it doesn't stop the asshole from snickering as you stumble over your own feet, detracting from the fact that his arm shot out and wrapped around your waist to steady you. you glared up at him as he made no attempt to hide his amusement, jostling him with your shoulder, though it didn't appear to have much effect.
"i'd like to see you try walk home while drunk." alhaitham merely shrugged, the smile still playing on his lips.
"i'm pretty sure i drank more than you, only difference is i can hold my liquor." you huff again, much to his amusement, and things fall to a comfortable silence for a few metres.
your attention diverts to the arm that's still rested comfortably against you, you're practically hugging it, and you give it an experimental squeeze, raising a hand to poke at one of the veins.
"the fuck are you doing?"
"you have nice arms." there you go again, drunk and babbling words before your brain can stop you from blurting them out.
"oh yeah?"
you hum in affirmation, letting your finger continue to trace his vein as it continues down to his forearm.
"you're tall and they're warm but not too warm and they're very solid. good arms." you pause for a second, appraising the one that you had in your grasp for another second. "they also look nice."
"you must be more drunk than i thought," alhaitham hummed, a tinge of mirth in his voice. "i'll keep that in mind though." you groaned a little, letting your forehead fall against his shoulder momentarily. alhaitham didn't seem to mind, merely slowing his pace slightly to glance down at you.
"you're gonna make fun of me for this when i'm sober, aren't you?"
"only if you want me to." you peek up at him, eyes narrowing at his smirk.
"i used to think you were nice to me, y'know."
"nah, i'm just drunk right now."
you scoff at this, batting his chest as he laughs, though the less inhibited version of himself that he was right now did nothing but corroborate his own claim.
that same easy silence once again enveloped the two of you, the walk back to your home once again becoming the primary focus. the cool air began to sober you up, and despite some newfound clarity, you felt hesitant to relent your grip on alhaitham's arm, and some insistent voice in the back of your head didn't hasten to point out that he wasn't moving away either.
this mini revelation almost had you reeling, having you walk next to him with bated breath, as if one wrong move would break the spell and he would move away from you, back into the safe zone of being just friends, and not whatever had been happening for the past twenty minutes. each step closer towards your house became more dreaded, carrying with it the growing realisation that you would have to let go of alhaitham and his arm, and have to look him in his eyes and bid him goodnight.
maybe it was some drunken selfishness, but you had grown rather accustomed to the way you had wrapped yourself around him, not quite willing to part with it yet. and by the time you were approaching your front door, this feeling still remained prominent.
you finally came to a stop just outside, and you fumbled with your keys, partially hoping that your fingers would never find them within the small confines of your purse. you cursed yourself as you felt the thin metal, drawing them out of your bag and flashing a reluctant smile at alhaitham as you began to unlock your door, fingers already itching for his touch again.
and then he utters your name, so low that you can barely hear it, and you can't help but glance back at him over your shoulder.
alhaitham stands at the bottom of the steps, not quite daring to cross the threshold despite the look in his eyes mirroring your thoughts. you swallow hard when you see the open longing in his expression, closing the gap between you somewhat by moving down a step, bringing you to eye level with him.
the briefest flash of an idea to invite him inside enters your mind, though fear holds you back from voicing it. alhaitham's eyes search your own for something, before they travel lower and gaze at your lips for a few seconds in a way that has your heartbeat increasing.
it has you leaning forward ever so slightly, drawn to his warmth all over again. the centimetres between the two of you diminish, and you can almost swear that you see him lean in too, before some unknown emotion flashes before hisbeyes and he straightens up, coughing once.
"it's late, y/n. get some sleep." you freeze, feeling warmth spread to your cheeks as you now ignore his gaze.
"right. thanks." you shut your door with a little more force than nencessary before alhaitham can see the way your face crumples, frowning as you pull out your phone, eager to tell your friends about what had just transpired, wiping away the stray tear that managed to slip past your waterline.
𖦹 if you had a ring doorbell instead of a regular one, you would have been able to see alhaitham lean his head against your door for a good 2 minutes after you closed it, before muttering "stupid" to himself and walking off
𖦹 gia's notes ⌨ and here is the flashback episode!! this should have been out like a fucking week ago but it's been so fucking hot recently that my brain feels like it's melted and i was too sweaty to sit down and write. moment of silence for all the girlies who dont have ac. also sorry if there are typos i am just. ausudhhehfjdjdhd you feel me?
𖦹 taglist ( let me know if you want to be added / you changed your username! ) @makimakimi @aeongiies @sukunasrealgf @ssoliva @sakiimeo @eggn0gcookie @yxcade @fiona782 @heartswonder @eunchaeluvr @clumsyphuq @pinksodacan @aelxr @themusingsofmany @obervation-subject-753 @kittycasie @aimno256 @maxineshearts @mafuyuslover @meigalaxy @mintydump
#🌀 ! all i think about now#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#alhaitham x reader#cyno x reader#genshin smau#genshin impact smau#cyno smau#alhaitham smau#cyno x reader smau#alhaitham x reader smau#cyno fluff#cyno angst#cyno smut#cyno x reader smut#alhaitham fluff#alhaitham angst#alhaitham smut#alhaitham x reader smut
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sampos tango
commission for @pickingpixel
First time writing smut! I like how it turned out.
summary: sampo manages to drag you into a naked wrestling tournament.
tags: dom/sub understones, naked wrestling, gay, male reader, bottom reader, top sampo, reader is not trailblazer.
word count: 2,759 | ao3 link
ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem alligened, please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛
You stare at the wrinkled flyer in your hand, rereading the headline for the 15th time. It an advertisement for a naked wrestling tournament? The contesents were allowed to do whatever they wanted with the opponent. Whoever wins gets a grand prize of 10,000 credits.
You look up at Sampo with a disgruntled look, "There is no way in hell I am doing this."
Sampo chuckles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, ignoring the way you sqirum under his touch. "Well, my dear, you don't have much of a choice. After all, you did lose the bet, and I have your agreement to it in writing." He says, wrapping himself further around you, pinning you to his chest. "We both know the things I can do to you if you try and back out."
He uses his other hand to tilt your head up towards him, the devious glint his eyes make the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. You simply nodded your head to the forced agreement. His signature grin returns, and he realses you from his death grip of a hold.
Sampo clasps his hands together, "Wonderfull, my dear! Just make sure to be early. We wouldn't want you to be late after all." He turns on his heel, slipping back into the shadows, disappearing from view.
You stood there for a few more moments thinking things over. You didn't think that single simple piece of paper would have such a control over you. However, it would've been far worse if Sampo wanted it to be. You really need to stop associating yourself with him, even your colleagues, disprove of him.
They say you shouldn't trust him. He's a con artist, and he has so many enemies that probably will become yours one day. Although there's just something about him... probably just the charm of a con artist. He just seems like someone you want to keep close for whatever reason that may be.
You turn on your heel, heading into the direction of your home. Preparing for whatever shit shows you just got yourself into.
-
The place was swarming with over and underworlders alike, some you even recognized, but thankfully, none has recognized you yet. You make your way through the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the blue hair con. For such a tall man, he is difficult to spot.
You approach the check-in desk, and there are two identical looking workers who seem to be nothing but tight boxer briefs and a name tag stuck to their muscled chest. They greet you in synch.
"Hi, I think I'm supposed to check in here? My names (Y/N) and I'm supposed to be one of the uh contestants." You managed to stammer out, trying not to get caught having your eyes anywhere but theirs.
The one on the left, Jax, begins scanning through the list while the other, Max, eyes you up and down.
"So, who dragged you into this? You don't look like you'd sign up for yourself willingly."
You sigh, shifting your weight, "I lost a bet, and I was wondering if a man named Sampo checked in? He's tall with blue hair."
Max nods and points behind you, "I think that's your guy."
Jax holds out a pen and paper out towards you, "Before you run off, we need you to sign this. It's just a consent form of what could happen during the matches."
You sign the papers quickly, thanking both of them before going to Sampo, who is leaning against a pillar scrollling in his phone. He seemed to notice your approach, making his way to you.
"Good to see you, my friend! Hope you're ready. " He grins, grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him. He brings you to what looks like to be a dressing room that only has empty hanging racks and a few of body oils spread along the counter.
Sampo clasps hands together, sly grin etched onto his face, "Well, for the first order of business, Strip."
This makes you choke on your own spit in surprise, "Can we at least go over how these rounds are gonna go and general rules too before you see me naked?"
"It's simple. It's elimination based. You defeat your opponents and climb your way up to victory. The matches are timed, so whoever is on the ground at the end loses." Sampo starts to explain and gestures to you to start removing your clothing.
You start with your shirt, shivering when the cold hair hits your skin. You slip off your shoes and socks, shivering more as your feet touch the cold tiles. While you're undoing your pants, you ignore how Sampos gaze falls on your crotch.
"I won't be participating in these matches. I won't be able to stop anyone from doing certain... things to you. So you need to make sure you dont allow anyone to get the upper hand." He places your shirt and pants on the counter, sliding your shoes and socks under.
You stop on the waist band of your boxers, nervous. You've never been naked in front of someone you knew personally. The only people that'd seen you naked are random hook-ups.
Sampo notices your hesitation, "If you're worried about being judged. Don't be. I've seen my fare share of dicks. I highly doubt yours will disappoint."
The comment made the blush on your face grow brighter. With a shakey breath, you slip out of your boxers.
"Well, that wasn't so bad. Was it? You're pretty decant size, too...nothing to be ashamed about."
"It's more embarrassing than bad, honestly. This is the first time I'll be naked in front of such a large crowd."
Sampo turns for a moment, grabbing a random bottle of body oil. "You'll be fine~ Most of the contesents are new to this too. No ones gonna judge you."
"Now, we have to smother this all over you, aside from your hands and feet, of course. Do you want to do it or me?" Sampo asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes not so stubly trailing up your body.
"I'll do it, thanks, but you'll have to get my back. Also... I saw on the waver that people would try and have sex with their opponents? How would that even work. I thought these matches were timed." You ask, taking the bottle from his hand as you turn away from him. You put the oil on your hand, giving it a sniff. It was a subtle semll of coconut. At least you'll smell good.
"Yes, though, that matches are timed, 3 minutes each. If the pair starts to do the deed, they'll extend it to 5 so the audience can have a good show. You might even be able to see the audience getting off to it themselves. But if you're not going to do it, the matches stay the same, and as long as you have the person pinned down for a few seconds, you'll win."
You hummed, listening to him talk as you spread the oils on you. You start with the legs, making your way to your dick, quickly going over before pulling away and grabbing more oil.
You move to your torso and sides, lathering them up generously. You reach your shoulders when you feel bare hands lay themselves on your hips.
You freeze up for a moment, leaving your hands to rest on your tense shoulders. You don't even try to look up at Sampo as he begins to run his hands on your sides.
He rubs the oils into the skin even more, moving to drag the access on your lower back, dangerously close to your rear. He pulls his hand away for a meer second before pouring the oil on his hand and spreading it along your back.
The way his hands glide along your back, spreading the oils into every nook and cranny it can reach. You resist the urge to fall putty under his skilled hands.
It's a few more seconds before his hands leave your back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact.
A voice suddenly came over the rooms speakers, "All contestants, please make your way to the rink. You have 5 minutes."
You look at Sampo, who's just finished drying off his hand with an old rag. He makes his way to the door and beckons you to follow.
You follow him silently, keeping your gaze to the ground as you walk by the other naked contesents. You'd rather not get a face full of someone's junk.
You narrowly miss bumping into Sampo when he stops. Peaking out behind his large frame, you set your eyes on the wrestling ring. Stars, it was huge. So was the crowd.
If they were closer, you could've sworn they'd blown out your eardrums.
"Well, it's game time. Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Good. Make sure to show them who they're dealing with. The most important thing to do is win. Just do that, and those credits are ours." Sampo grins, pushing your forward into the arena.
You go to stand next to the line of contesents. Head up tall, not letting your gaze leave the crowd.
With a few announcements from the host you couldn't bother focusing on, the matches has begun. You tap your foot in anticipation, snapping out of your trance when your name is called.
"(Y/N) and Kody, please come to the stage!"
You and a very burly man make your way up the ring. You shake hand before the match begins. He gets the first hit on you, making you quickly learn that he is top heavy. You dodge the next attempt to tackle you. Moving out of the way fats enough to grip the back of his neck and slam him on the ground, making sure to force your entire body weight onto him.
The referee calls it before you send off the ring, waiting for your turn again. Sampo was right about those who tried and sometimes succeeded in having sex. They even still had cum dripping out of their holes and dicks.
Your matches didn't last long, not long enough for someone to successfully grab your dick anyway.
You reach the end smoothly, standing on the back of your last opponent as the crowd chants your name.
The chant slowly dies down when a certain blue hair con artist makes his way to the rink, the spot light shining on his naked body.
The announcers cackle over the speakers, "You guys couldn't have thought that we weren't gonna end this without a bang. Now give it up for Sampo, one of our longest running contesents! Let's see if our new hotshot can win."
You step off of the man under you, staring at the blue-eyed bastard in front of you.
He grins mischievously, "I knew you'd make it this far. Now, let's see if you can make it past me."
You don't know what to say, thoughts getting interrupted as the referee begins the match. Sampo is quick to advance, throwing you against the borders of the ring, nearly making you fall through the ropes. He grabs you in a choke hold, pressing himself against you.
You claw and scratch at his arm, freezing for a split second when he rubs himself against you. You lean forward before quickly reversing and slamming into Sampo.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!"
You managed to get Sampo off his feet and back on the ground. Slipping out of the hold, you move to pin his arms down and attempt to pin his long legs with yours.
"Just having a little fun, of course. Plus, it looks like I'm not the only one getting excited." Sampo chuckles, looking down at your harden dick.
Your head snaps down, checking to see if it was true. By the time you processed the truth, you were flipped over by Sampo.
He pins your arms with one hand, using his other to hold your hip down. He rubs himself against your, agonizingly slow.
"Sampo..." You whimper, already getting worked up. You internally curse yourself for becoming undone so quickly. You attempt to create more friction by rubbing yourself against him but fail as the hand on your hips doesn't allow you to move.
Sampo grin doesn't falter, if anything it judt grows. He leans towards you, noses almost touching.
"Yes, my dear?" Sampo asks with a teasing tone.
"Please..." You whimper out, desprate for his touch.
"Please, what? You'll have to use your words. C'mon now .." Sampo uses his thumb to rub at the dips of your hips. As if trying to be encouraging.
Sampo gazes down at you, his eyes feel like they can see your soul.
"Please fuck me, Sampo."
Sampo chuckles, taking his hand off your hip, not minding the way you start grinding your dick against his. He cups your face and gives you a soft pat before slipping two of his fingers into your mouth.
"Be a good boy and get those all nice and wet. Don't leave it dry."
You obliged, eagerly sucking off his fingers. Some of your saliva dripped its way out of your mouth and onto the floor. Sampo moves to rub himself against you again. Instead of your dick he chooses to run himself underneath your balls, having a hunch that's one of the places that you're sensitive.
Indeed, your were, the muffled moan around his fingers made it clear. This causes a tiny bit of your precum to start to drip out of your tip.
Sampo gives his hand a slight tug, a small warning before pulling his drenched fingers away from your mouth.
He moves his hand downward towards your hole. He lines his finger up with it, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod quickly.
Throwing your head back when he pushes inside, your walls tighten around him. He thrusts it in and out, letting you get used to the feeling before adding the other.
He adds the second in, despite the tightness he manages to scissor and curl his fingers. At this point, you're a drooling mess. Not at all used to his heavenly feeling. You can feel that certain knot in your stomach tighten.
You look up at Sampo, pleading eyes displaying how desprate you are for him. "Sampo, please... I need you in me so bad."
Sampo is glad he deemed you stretched out enough to take him and the way you say his name makes him want to pound you into the ground.
He slips his fingers out, admiring your the way your hole clenches around nothing. He lines his dick up, pushing in slowly. Enjoying the way you tighten around him.
You moan loudly, fuck... he felt huge, making you feel so full and good already.
He bottoms you out, balls slapping against your ass. He relases your wrists from his hold, placing his hands on either side of your head as he looks at the stomach bulge and back up at you.
You press one of your hands down on the bulge, liking the way it shapes into your skin. Sampo takes this as the queue to begin moving.
He starts out slow and hard before gradually going faster. Soon, the only thing you can focus on is the way he keeps hitting your prostate perfectly.
He moves your legs, putting them into a matting press as he thrusts deeper. He dives down, catching his lips with yours. Swallowing the sound of the beautiful sounds you let out.
His thrusts start to become erratic and sloppy as he fucks you, a sign that he's reaching his peak. You are as well.
You wrap your arms around Sampo, pressing your forehead against his, your last clouded eyes lock with his. "Fuck, Sampo I gotta cum so bad."
"Yeah I do too, let's cum together yeah?"
You nod eagerly.
"1,2,3...fuck. Baby, you feel so good." Sampo groans out, realsesing his load into you, pressing right against your protaste as he does so. You cum in long spurts, it landing mostly on your chest but some on his aswell.
He slowly takes his dick out of you once he's finished. Letting your shakey legs back onto the mat. He kisses you once more, mumbling sweet praises as he rubs your thigh.
He looks up at the referee proud and carefree look on his face.
"The winner is: Sampo!"
#x male reader#honkai star rail#honkai x reader#honkai x you#sampo koski#sampo koski x reader#sampo koski x male reader#sampo x reader#sampo x you#sampo x male reader#smut#hsr smut#sampo smut#dom/sub#dom sampo#sub reader#hsr x reader#hsr x male reader
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For the "Not So Normal Teacher" thingy. (Not the original asker, just got an idea for it.)
Imagen some of the Decepticons destroying a part of the school, nearly endangering the students, and Optimus going completely feral over it. Like, Primus have mercy on those who thought it was a good idea to attack the school. Doesn't even matter if it was an accident.
Only good thing is, that the school grounds and students are off-limit now. None of the Decepticons want to deal woth a feral Optimus again, not even Megatron.
It has been a moment since I touched this AU, but I love it so here we go. Time to flex my writer muscles again and mess with this.
Previous part here.
══════════════════
It was a fairly average day with Optimus teaching as he normally would when the alarm sounded. The children were rushed outside where armed soldiers were already waiting to usher the children away just in time for a squad of Vehicons to drop down and attempt to bomb the school upon sensing Optimus's signal within.
They missed the school itself due to Optimus projecting his signal more powerfully to draw them away, however their attacks managed to damage a good fourth of the building. Rock and stone were sent flying, very nearly hitting a few students and scaring the younger children into a state of hysteria. At that moment Optimus saw RED. His holoform was absorbed the moment it was out of sight and Optimus's true form came barreling into action. By the time his real body arrived, the children and all other civilians had been evacuated by the military, leaving Optimus one mission.
He transformed without a second thought and threw himself into blasting the Vehicons out of the skies. Unfortunately for them, Optimus's aim rang true and they fell like buckets of bolts. The Vehicons attempted to fight back, they really did, however they were no match for a Prime fed up with their slag and downright wrathful over their attempt to harm his little archivists. The group of three escaped alive, however one came back missing a wing, another lost an arm, and the third had to be carried since his legs were lost in the bargain for life.
As a general rule, Optimus didn't touch Vehicons beyond punting them into a wall if they got too uppity. Thus seeing three Vehicons return shaken beyond words and missing limbs left and right was concerning at best and terrifying at worst. Having Soundwave review footage from where it could be gathered was enough to drive one point home.
The human school was not to be touched. Ever.
Thus is quickly fell in the very very short "off limits" list and life went on as usual. But of course the rumors around Mr. Pax only grew. The students noted his absence and the few observant ones were very aware of the fact that the bombers vanished but a few minutes after Mr. Pax did. Those who believed him to be an old god added yet another reason to their claims when they pointed out the total lack of destroyed jets or gore. It was as if nothing even existed to attack the school in the first place.
All the while Jack, Miko, and Rafael watched on knowing full and well just who was behind the whole situation and its conclusion. They said nothing of course, but watching the rumors expand and grow greater was fun in its own way. Miko had a blast making everything FAR more serious than it actually was, even going so far as to claim that the attackers had been erased from reality. Mr. Pax for his part did nothing to disprove the claims or confirm them. He went on as usual and paid the rumors no mind. He had classes to teach after all.
#transformers#transformers prime#maccadam#optimus prime#teacher au#orion pax#tfp kids#Mr Pax out here leaving everyone baffled yet again#the vehicons fear him and Pax just chilling with his students
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Resurface 10 - Recall
Maybe could be the next instalment of Resurface (a.k.a. the psychotic Virgil fic) or maybe could be a standalone - any thoughts? Inspired by a song which, it turns out, fits the situation rather well. Some sad Earth&Sky… given I’d managed zero words for days and have found that very irritating I’m gonna run with whatever! Edit to add: Yeah I’m calling it. So what if the fic has a random songfic chapter… it’s Virg…
💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚
He floated in the darkness, weightless yet weighed down. There was nothing to see, nothing to feel. Nothing to smell. Yet he could SEE the dark in an overwhelming level of detail and his nerves rejected the empty tactile nothingness and told him cold instead.
There was sound in the void, but it was intermittent and muffled, as if he was underwater. Voices… familiar but unhappy bubbled past him. If only they’d speak more clearly perhaps he could fix whatever the problem was… but he found he couldn’t move his arms or… his head or… anything so fixing was probably out of the question. He wondered if there anything of him left to move?
He wondered if he was… gone… and found he couldn’t feel too strongly about the idea. Hello darkness, Virgil was ready to succumb.
Oh… Virgil. He had a name. Well there it is.
He knew he was supposed to fight the dark but he was so tired. He was also aware the reason he kept fighting was no more. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what that had been… it nagged at him. It had been important. He was pretty sure it had been everything - there was just a hollow space where he imagined his chest would be. Was odd he couldn’t remember. If he could move his face he’d frown at that.
Maybe it was just that Afterwards you didn’t remember Before?
He only hoped this nothing wouldn’t be everything - the lack of comprehensible sensory input was maddening. Not to mention he had an irritating earworm that was disproving his theory about not remembering. And that would be really annoying to think about for eternity. What even was it? Some kids’ film…
Can there be a day beyond this night? I don’t know anymore what is true.
Huh. Pretty dark for something aimed at children.
Mind you, children felt things pretty strongly. He’d always done so, as far as he could tell. It’s why art and music worked for him. He remembered that too. Alright, memory was a thing then. Given the lack of anything else to do he cast his mind back, trying to recall something, anything… about who he was.
Trees. He could picture trees and feel the drop in the wind as he stepped amongst them. One in particular which was taller than the rest… a pecan. The scaly bark scratched at his fingertips as he peered up into the rustling branches overhead. Wait! He tried to shout but no sound came out! Wait! He wasn’t tall enough! He couldn’t follow! He stood on his tiptoes and stretched towards the hand that reached down out of the leaves but his fingers only brushed the air. He gasped, a bigger hand landed on his shoulder and it all went black again.
He was on his knees on the dusty tarmac and his knees were stinging but not as much as his eyes. The back of the big yellow bus blurred as he cursed his little legs for not being able to catch up with it. He squeaked in horror as a truck thundered past, horn blaring and then large hands were pulling his shoulders, dragging him to the grass. Sharp words, scared words. They told him he couldn’t follow. He wasn’t big enough for big school yet. He couldn’t always follow. He lifted his hands from his knees and stared at the redness that highlighted the wrinkles in his palms. A sob choked him and the red spread out and covered everything.
That large hand was tugging at his elbow, but Virgil wasn’t easy to move against his will. He relented and took one pace backwards, moving his right foot down one of the stone steps leading away from the ornate doorway with a lone figure standing in it. The others had gone back inside to continue the celebration. But one remained, watching them leave, smiling. The stupidly massive doors made him look small and he’d never looked small before. The left foot wouldn’t move. The arm tugged at him but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not follow. The figure waved again, straightened the smart blue coat with the silver buttons and gave a cheeky salute before turning and walking away. Virgil had no breath to cry out to him to stop, he could only reach out silently towards the retreating blue.
I follow you around, I always have, but you’ve gone to a place I cannot find.
No. The song was wrong. NO! He thrashed against the nothing and gagged on the bile that rose up in a throat that could suddenly feel, could suddenly burn, could agonisingly scream out loud:
“SCOTT!”
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#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#scott tracy#virgil tracy#Scotty’s gonna find you Virg don’t worry#wip wednesday#idontknowreallywhy fanfic#Resurface fic
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Have you read the rebirth Ultimania? If you did, was there something you considerd interesting?
Nope, as far as I know the rebirth Ultimania won't have an english release, or atleast not any time soon, so all I've read are unofficial translations, translations that paraphrase the meaning, and a few translations I've done myself to check if something was accurate. But that's only for small parts since Japanese isn't exactly my native tongue or anywhere close to it. If it turns out that there won't be an english version forthcoming I will probably buy a japanese version though since it would be good training.
Problem is people aren't allowed to just post fully translated pages for the ultimania, they're pretty serious when it comes to copyright concerning that stuff.
Nothing I've seen so far has really surprised me though, it's basically the same stuff Clotis have been saying all the time. The most interesting thing that has come out to me is that they were hesitant to add an affection mechanic to rebirth. This may seem like a pretty throw-away line but it's actually pretty meaningful.
For one it really hammers in the idea that you're not supposed to see this story as a choose your own adventure, they want it to be a single coherent story. And if they were already hesitant to add it to this part, where I think it makes by far the most sense to have one in there, then it gives me hope that there won't be an affection mechanic in part 3.
And lets be honest, who do you think has more to fear from there not being an affection mechanic? Us or the Cleriths? I think that in their hearts Cleriths are secretly begging for the existence of an affection mechanic, while Clotis are openly hoping that there won't be one, that really tells you everything.
Something that has gotten a lot of attention are the quotes surrounding the dates, where Cleriths have been jumping for joy at the idea that the dates aren't canon, and trying to twist that in something good for Clerith. This has been both intriguing and hilarious to watch.
For years Cleriths have rallied around the date in the OG, and prior to the ultimania releasing they've been desperately trying convince the world that the Clerith date is canon and the Tifa kiss is meaningless fan-service. And now that the Ultimania has confirmed they are all equal they're suddenly trying to use that to undermine anything to do with the date XD Meanwhile Clotis went "actually, I think none of them are probably canon, more informative 'what-ifs' that are meant to illustrate Clouds relationship with the different characters". And when the Ultimania said essentially exactly the same thing Cleriths actually took that as a good thing. It's amazing how they can twist anything to fit their narrative, or rather, to not totally disprove it. These people actually took a quote talking about how all dates are equal, and tried using it to prove the dates weren't equal.
The most fun part of this entire debate is to watch how over the years it slowly changed from Cleriths trying to attack, to Cleriths desperately trying to defend and explain why "we're not quite dead yet, we might be able to still make a move." It's no longer "Clerith is canon, here is why", no, now its "well, no, the kiss is optional, you don't have to see it, he also held Aeriths hand you know!!!!" They've been checkmated a dozen times already and are now just illegally jumping their king around the board erratically, pretending that they haven't lost.
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WIP Whenever
@ramblingoak and @ghostchems tagged me to share a WIP and because I know it's been ages and I'm super behind here's a piece from Chapter 12 of IKNBS. Also the fic hit 666 kudos on Ao3 and I think that's a good reason to share this today ♡
The pasta is still lukewarm. Eating semi cold spaghetti two days in a row is not very glamorous but you’re pretty sure you’ve never eaten with quite as much enthusiasm and hunger. Copia himself bolts down the pasta like he hasn’t seen food in a few days. He looks relaxed now, a sort of post-coital glow in his mismatched eyes that never really stray from your body, a hunger not directed at his food, adoration that is unhidden, visible in every glance. You think that this is the closest to real heart eyes a human can offer and it gives you butterflies that make it hard to swallow your food.
His red zip-up hoodie is draped over your shoulders, the only item of clothing on your body. You sit on the mattress right next to where Copia is leaning against the wall in just his briefs, eating straight from the take away containers with wooden forks and paper napkins. His make-up is smudged, traces of it on the pillows, on the sheets, on you. He looks beautiful in the fading light, darkness slowly creeping in through the windows and deepening the lines on his face. With the long hours of the night stretched out before you like a calm expanse of sea, the only visible shores far off in the distance, you feel utterly at peace. So much time to spend with him, uninterrupted, time to worship in the only way you now know.
“You look beautiful,” he says, setting his empty paper box aside, “wearing my clothes.” A smirk, his eyes shimmering with lust and mischief. “Or nothing at all.”
You smile into your next fork of pasta. “You have to give me a few minutes after eating.”
“Who said I want to do anything, cara? Can I not compliment you with no ulterior motives?” When he sees your hidden grin, the raised brows, he chuckles. “You are right, there is no moment in which I don’t want you. Don’t need you.” A deep breath, his head falling back into the pillow that’s propped up behind his back. “But I can be patient.”
As if to disprove his statement, his bare hand reaches out to touch your thigh, squeezing the flesh and tracing its soft stretch marks all the way up to where it meets your hip. You shiver against his touch, goosebumps forming underneath his fingertips. He chuckles, repeating the ever same movement, stroking your skin until it stops tickling as much and becomes a steady, reassuring gesture. So focused on his touch, he barely takes notice of you still eating, wrapping the last few spaghetti around the wooden tines.
“Copia,” you say.
“Hm?” He looks up, squeezing your thigh once more. “Are you done yet?”
“What about being patient?”
“I want my dessert.”
You sigh dreamily, swallowing the last bite of pasta. “I love dessert. I wish we had some.”
“Oh yes, you do, eh? Macarons and croissants.”
“Mhm.” You close the empty box, scooting closer to him. “I was never allowed to have it as a child.”
“What else do you like?” he asks. “Real desserts?”
It seems like the talk of food has distracted him momentarily from touching you. You decide to crawl over him to get rid of your empty container, but he still grabs your hips the moment you’ve set it down, pulling you against his chest and rolling you over until he’s towering above you. A short gasp leaves your lips, his weight and warm body so solidly caging you in.
“So?” he asks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your cheek.
“Most things,” you reply, shivering when his lips brush the tender spot below your ear. “Tiramisu.”
“Oh, really? You like Italian, eh?”
“I like Italians, yes. I like one Italian especially.”
He chuckles, looking at you with his love-struck eyes, the green shimmering so delicately in the soft moonlight that is now making its way into the studio. The first kiss is soft, a moan fluttering from your throat as his tongue licks along your lips. The next kiss is more demanding. He presses in hard until you open for him, his tongue teasing yours with no haste.
“Mhm so sweet,” he whispers. “My baby tastes so good. Better than all the pasta and desserts.” You can’t help but giggle and he hums in delight, pressing more kisses to your neck, your shoulder, down the column of your throat where he lingers, licking along the line of your clavicle until you shudder. “Do you know that I am addicted? I could taste you forever.” He gives a throaty chuckle. “Perhaps I will.”
tagging: @xfilesinamajor @copias-sewer-rat @kissingghouls @gothdaddyissues (if you want to and have something to share ♡)
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Jpm x reader who find the hidden hallways and rooms and takes the chance to murder a hobo, James (whether they are close or not) catches her and she replies 'Just a hobo, do you disprove' just like he did with the countess
A Well-Respected Man
note: been so busy recently. i still luv u all! taking liberties with this request (aka i know you didn't ask for smut but i wanna write it)
warnings: quick sm*t, wall f*cking, murder, violence, blood, stabbing, misogynistic stuff
+++
I floated through the halls of the third floor in a dream. I couldn't tell if I liked being dead yet. There were no more consequences to my actions. I didn't have to choose to live every day. The lavishly decorated hallway felt different now.
When you're alive, you rush. You want to experience as much as possible before your time runs out. Eternal life in death is far different. I walked slowly through the hallway, examining each and every door, bumps in the carpet, and water stains on the ceiling.
I ran my hand along the wall and felt the texture of the orate wallpaper. The patterns were raised and felt rough against my fingertips.
Out of sheer curiosity, I began trying doorknobs. The doors were not locked. Each one opened with ease and to my surprise, led nowhere. I raised an eyebrow at the revelation. I suppose one doesn't usually try the doors to suites in a hotel out of respect for other guests, hence the lack of regard for locking these decoys.
One door stood out to me, nestled quietly at the very end of the hallway. The others were outset from the wall, accented by wood molding around their edges. This door was flush with the wall. A feeble attempt at hiding it in plain sight. I tried the knob and it was, in fact, locked.
Fuck, I said inwardly. Under the impression that my exploration has been thwarted, I spun on my heel and began walking away. It hadn't yet dawned on me that being a ghost meant locked doors and keys had become antiquated items.
It took my inclination to simply appear upstairs, rather than take the elevator, to remind me of my new abilities. Within a moment, I was standing in front of the enticing door, ready to see what was inside.
Behind its decorative facade, the entrance housed a dreary, dark hallway. One that led back in the direction from which I came. This was what those pointless doors were hiding. I wandered down the corridor. It was cold and unwelcoming. It sounded as if the hotel's pipes ran through along the ceiling. Sounds of rushing water washed over my head sporadically.
At the very end of the long passage was something in the wall akin to a trash or laundry chute. I opened the metal door and soft light came streaming through. It was jarring to be afforded that much visibility so unexpectedly. I squinted and peered through, finding it was a multi-story drop down to what looked like a basement.
The cement floor was spattered with what I could only assume was blood, and I thought I could spot a body part of some sort. It was a body chute. I shrugged and closed the opening, bored with my attempt at exploration.
+
Days later, my need for fun had not been satisfied. Being a ghost was frankly, a bore. The building was full of secret passageways and doors, all of which led to essentially nothing. I was hoping to find cult activities or a blood sacrifice within these hidden places, not empty hallways.
James was giving me space and time to adjust, but instead, I simply felt insane boredom. On this particular day, I spent my time in the bar overlooking the lobby, trying to spot any new blood that took the misstep of entering The Cortez. It seemed on this day, the hotel was not going to provide me with entertainment.
That was, until, I heard a male voice speaking loudly in the empty, near-silent lobby. I hopped down from my bar stool and rushed to the railing of the balcony, hanging over it to see what the commotion was about.
'Careful, Y/N, you could fall,' Liz quipped with a wink. 'You wouldn't want to get hurt.' I looked back at her over my shoulder and smiled. She thought she was oh-so-funny.
'Hello?' the male voice shouted. I turned my head once again in the direction of the sound.
'Oh, just go down there,' Liz sighed. 'I don't feel like dealing with that.'
With her permission, I practically flew down to the lobby and across its geometric carpeting. A man with long, stringy grey hair and a dirty beard stood just in front of the hotel's entrance. He stood hunched, wearing a large coat, stained jeans, and a tattered backpack. he stared off at one of the art pieces we had hanging on the wall.
I cleared my throat to announce my presence. 'Can I help you?' I asked politely.
'I don't know, can you?' the man replied sarcastically.
'Do you need a room?' I tried.
'Only if it's free,' he laughed, looking right through me. 'I obviously can't afford to pay.' He gestured grandly at his appearance.
'We don't do free rooms,' I replied bluntly.
'Can I at least get something to eat?' he questioned with an impatient tone.
'You'll have to go somewhere else, sir. We don't do charity here,' I crossed my arms and popped my hip.
'Excuse me?'
'You heard me. No handouts,' I stated.
'Well then, I'll stand here until someone more qualified comes to talk to me,' he huffed. 'Preferably a man.'
'A man?' I scoffed.
'You women have no understanding of how things work. Get me your superior,' he declared. I chewed my lip in annoyance. How dare he insult my gender? How dare he be picky when he so obviously needed help?
'You know what,' I began, 'I do believe we have somewhere you can stay.'
'Don't be fucking with me, girl,' he spat.
'Follow me,' I instructed. He did as told, remaining on my heels as I passed over to reception, grabbing the key to a special room on the third floor from the hook behind the desk. I also made sure to slide Iris' emergency switchblade she kept under the desk into my sleeve.
The man and I took the elevator to the third floor, standing in awkward silence as we went up. The ornate hallways of the third floor flew by in a wash, my periphery blurred by blind rage toward this person. He walked behind me down the long hallway, all the way to the inset locked door. I slid the key into the lock slowly and turned it.
Just as the lock clicked open, though, the man broke the silence. 'Anyone tell you you got a tight ass?' he remarked as his open palm smacked my rear end.
'What?' I replied, shocked, contorting my expression to one of disgust.
'Hey, don't act all grossed out,' he asserted, throwing his hands up. 'You're asking for it, dressed like that and all.' I practically kicked the door open and gestured for the man to enter. He sauntered past me cockily and paused at the entrance. 'It's dark in here.'
I pushed his back with force, causing him to stumble further into the darkness. I slammed the door behind me and rounded on him.
'Hey, what the fuck?' he shouted, panic creeping into his tone. I pushed him again, knocking him onto his ass. 'Hey! Stop!'
'Not so cocky now, huh?' I teased. He scrambled backward down the corridor, trying to make it back up onto his feet. I kicked his chest, causing him to crash down onto his back. 'Fucking apologize.'
'F-for what?' the man stammered, panting in fear. I pulled the switchblade out of my sleeve and flicked it open. Its sharp edge glinted beautifully.
'You fucking pig,' I spat. He began to scream in terror, still trying to clamor away from me.
'Help!' he screamed, still unable to make it onto his feet. I continued to back him toward the end of the corridor. 'HELP!'
'You can scream as loud as you want. In fact, I prefer it,' I smiled. 'Beg for your life.'
'P-please! Let me go! I'm sorry!' he pleaded. I stooped down to his level and grabbed his shirt collar, holding him firmly in place. I pressed the blade to his neck and smirked.
'Too late,' I whispered. I slid the cold metal across his flesh and watched as dark red blood spilled out. It was much more blood than I was expecting. For fun, I continued stabbing the man. I slashed at his skin repeatedly, grunting and screaming as I went. His blood spattered all over my body. I reveled in how it felt.
When I was sure he was gone, I grabbed the hood of his thick coat and began pulling his body to the chute. Unfortunately for me, it didn't occur to me that this man would be heavy and that his dead weight would be nearly impossible to move. I tugged and pulled, moving him only slightly with each exertion.
'Fuck!' I yelled. 'You're even more fucking annoying when you're dead!'
'Darling?' a familiar voice spoke. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun on my heel to find James suddenly behind me. It must have been quite a sight to take in. 'Who is that?'
'Just a homeless man,' I said plainly. James took a moment to process, smoothing his mustache with two fingers. 'Do you disapprove?'
'No, no,' James contended. 'I've just, never seen you like this.' He took my cheek in his hand and gave me a kiss on the forehead. I sighed in relief at the gesture.
'Can you give me a hand, then?' I asked. laughing a bit.
'Gladly, my little hummingbird,' he cooed. We both worked to hoist the man up and through the chute. His body landed with a sickening smack on the concrete below. I hopped to the front of the door to look down at the carnage. James' arms snaked around me, one hand resting on my chest, the other on my tummy.
'Thank you,' I breathed, resting my head back on his body. 'He was a piece of shit.'
'Mmm?' James vocalized into my ear. 'How so?'
'He assaulted me as I was doing him a kindness. Smacked my backside,' I answered. James spun me around and held me by my shoulders.
'A well-respected man would never treat a woman like that,' he gasped. 'You did the world a service in killing that animal.'
'I know,' I grinned.
'A well-respected man treats women like this,' James said lowly, pulling me in close. His lips met mine tenderly. I backed up to rest my body on the wall. We made out passionately. With his body pressed up against mine, I could feel a bulge grow in his trousers. He peppered his lips along my collarbones and breasts. I shrugged the cardigan I was wearing off my arms.
While James continued to kiss every square inch of exposed skin on my upper body, my hands wandered to the hook and zipper on his pants. I undid each and let the fabric slide smoothly off his legs. His briefs exposed just how turned on he was. I tugged his underpants off, letting his erection spring loose.
He wasted no time and tore my panties off from under my skirt, then proceeded to hoist me up the wall. He sat me on his dick. The length went in roughly. I gasped at how deep it truly went. His strong arms held me against the cold wall as he fucked me senseless.
James came inside me within minutes. My back arched as I felt his hot load spill into me. He grunted and whimpered, breathing raggedly. He slid out of me and guided me back onto the ground carefully, before tugging his pants back on. I smoothed my skirt down and cleared my throat.
'You have no idea how much of a revelation that was, Y/N. My little hummingbird...killing people.' James grabbed my face in both of his hands. 'Now, that was just the appetizer,' he growled. 'We must venture upstairs for the main course.'
+++
I'm watching Hotel right now and man I missed James so much. That sexy bastard.
#evan peters#evan peters fic#ahs#evan peters x female reader#evan peters x reader#evan peters oneshot#james patrick march#jpm#james patrick march x reader#james patrick march x you#James Patrick march smut#ahs hotel
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Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader: No Place Like Home
Summary: Alcina Dimitrescu + 38 -- "Can we go home yet?"
Prompt from this list here!
A/N: Writing this made me very happy. I love fics that focus on the whole Dimitrescu family, they're very wholesome (as wholesome as they can get) and I love them. I hope you all like this, please don't hesitate to leave a comment :)
Full Ficmas List
Tag List: @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld
AO3
Warning(s): Blood, Minor gore, Ambiguous relationships
According to Daniela, there are several reasons why winter is awful.
Number one—it’s freezing! How could anyone enjoy their day when their limbs are half-numb with cold?
Number two—they’re stuck inside the Castle. This is one that bothers you as well; you failed to realize how much of a handful three castle-ridden girls would be.
Number three—and Daniela’s least favorite, there is nothing to do.
Winter has been your favorite season since you could walk; The holidays, the snow, the warmth of blankets and drinks. Your fondest memory is curling up with your sisters beneath a blanket after spending the day in the snow, fingers slowly warmed by ceramic mugs full of hot chocolate. It’s one you held onto your entire life. One you want to share with your new family.
So you’ve decided to disprove Daniela’s points—or the last one, at least.
“You’re quiet tonight.” Alcina comments.
She glances across the room to where you’re curled up by the fireplace, book in your hand forgotten while you stare at the flames. You’re unsure how long you’ve been distracted. Her place in her own book is marked by a finger as she waits.
“I’m just thinking.”
“Ah,” She nods, “And here I thought it was the fireplace producing smoke.”
You roll your eyes, but can’t stop the upturn of your lips, “Very funny.”
Alcina wears a smirk as she goes back to her reading, leaving you to your thoughts. You can’t figure out how to bring winter to three girls who’ll die from the cold. They have to stay warm, there are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Unfortunately, both hot and cold can’t coexist for what you want to plan.
Sighing heavily, you put your head in your hands. You want to give up and call off the whole idea. Think, your mind argues, You’re a Dimitrescu now, and Dimitrescu’s don’t give up.
“Alcina?”
She hums, not looking up from her book, “Hm?”
“Has the village ever celebrated the holidays? Not in the religious way, but in the festivities, giving kind of way.”
“Not that I can recall. Mother Miranda frowns upon celebrations that aren’t tied to her. Though she could be forgiving this year, with Eva being freshly returned.”
Ah. There’s the basis of your issues then; Mother Miranda. You nod and stand. Crossing the room, you’re delighted to remember that Alcina’s at level height with you since she’s sitting. You lean in and steal a long kiss.
You pull away, red-faced and breathless, “Can I use the phone in your office?”
And then you’re standing at her desk, the large phone clutched in your hand and ringing, ringing, ringing…
“This better be good.” A cool, venomous voice drips down the line.
You ignore the venom, “Mother Miranda.”
“Little human.”
Her voice has ticked higher in pitch, though otherwise nothing about the woman changes. You can hear the giggles of Eva somewhere in the background.
“I trust you’re well?”
“Skip the pleasantries. What do you want?”
You wince, but relay your desires to the Goddess. It takes promises and a dash womanly charm to coax her into your ideas. You’ve agreed to watch Eva anytime she requires, as well as assisting her once a month in her studies.
If you’re being realistic, you got off far easier than you expected to. You’d anticipated a lot more flirting and agreements of a bloodier nature.
Dodging questions about your call at dinner that evening, you head into the village the next day, alone. The few villagers shy away from the Dimitrescu carriage with fear in their eyes. You knock firmly against the inside of the carriage and bring it to a stop.
Stepping out into the cold, snow crunching under your feet, you watch the people relax. Their grips are no longer white-knuckled and they nod in your direction. Some even dare to meet your eyes and you do your best to reward them with a smile, especially the curious children.
You pat the flank of Alcina’s loyal horses, “Aștepta.”
Beelining to the back of the village square, you slip quietly into the butchers. It’s empty save for you and the graying woman on the other side of the counter. Her back is facing you, rusty red curls slipping from the black scarf around her head, hacking away at a carcass with a cleaver.
“Be with you in a moment.” She throws over her shoulder.
“Take your time.”
The cleaver clatters onto the table and she spins. Her eyes are wide, one hand clutching her chest as it rises and falls too quickly.
“My Lady!”
“I said take your time, Detta,” You sigh, “Will you ever listen to me?”
“Her Ladyship would dislike it very much if I kept you waiting.”
“My wife isn’t here. Finish up your task and then you can help me, not a moment before.”
Detta hesitates as if waiting for a trap. You mentally curse the Lords—not for the first time—for inspiring so much fear into the people of their domain. Your love for your wife and her family is unending, but there are many times you could smack them for being so cruel. It makes interactions like this all the more difficult.
You sense eyes staring in the shop, following your every move. You wonder if Detta feels them glued to her back as well. But you peruse the selection of dried meats as if they’re not there.
There’s an attractive set of hindquarters hanging behind the counter. A heavy layer of salt covers the outside, dark red made pale pink. You wonder if your girls would appreciate it; it’s hardly their preferred fare of man-flesh, but Bela and Cassandra were fond of venison on occasion.
Apparently satisfied with her work, Detta turns back to you, arms splattered with blood. You hardly notice it.
“How can I help you, My Lady?”
“I have an interesting request for you.”
“Anything.”
You level the woman with a look, “I’m not my wife, Detta. You’re allowed to refuse me.”
Detta nods, but her eyes flicker behind you, to where the village no-doubt watches on. There’s sweat on her brow and you know it isn’t from her hard work. You sigh. You can hardly blame her for being so afraid, she’s grown up in the village and seen the countless atrocities committed, but you don’t want to be viewed as an extension of the bloodshed.
Never have you raised a hand against any of them, but it’s done little to make you more favorable. You suppose that became your lot when you took the Dimitrescu name.
“I… What is your request, My Lady?”
“I’d like to set up a bit of festivity here for the holidays, including stalls for businesses like yours. Mother Miranda has given me her blessing. You’re highly respected amongst the people and I’d like you to spread the word around.”
She hesitates.
“You don’t trust me.”
“It’s not that, My Lady,” Detta says, “The winter season has been hard on the village. It will be hard to join the festivities with no product.”
“What would the village require to make this happen?”
Another glance behind you, a deep breath, “The lycans need to be disposed of. They hunt all our game and stock, trample crops, and terrorize us all around. Rid us of them and celebrations will be easier.”
You nod. Heisenburg hardly needs the foul creatures anymore, the threat of Ethan Winters and associated groups having been eliminated. It will take a lot more than agreeing to watch Eva to convince Mother Miranda, but the woman has always been partial to you for some odd reason. You’re not convinced Alcina will appreciate what you have to agree to.
Detta seems to take your silence as evidence of anger; she’s backed herself away from you, as far as she can without being rude. Her hand grips the handle of her cleaver. You could almost laugh at the absurdity of the scene, but you need her favor.
“Give me a week.” You say, “And I’ll take the hindquarters behind you. What are those, venison?”
—
The piece of meat goes over well.
“None for me, girls.” Alcina turns it away, sipping at her wine.
“Mama?” Daniela turns to you.
Motioning to your plate where a cooked piece rests, “I’m alright. Thank you, bug.”
The words have hardly left your mouth before the three swarm, teeth ripping into the raw meat. You’re thankful the aging process left it with less blood. Leaning back, you watch as you always do, with a sense of horrified interest.
A large hand comes to rest on your thigh beneath the table. You glance up into golden eyes, offering her a fond smile. She smirks in response.
“Your trip to the village proved worthwhile, it seems.” She comments.
“To a degree, yes. I still have much to do,” You shift, sitting up and turning to face her. Alcina’s eyes meet your own and narrow, “Some of which you may not… enjoy.”
“Oh?”
“I need Mother Miranda’s approval and my methods may have to be… different, this time.”
“No.”
“Alcina, please.”
Her wine glass is slammed onto the table. It shatters, Sanguis Virginis running over her gloved hand. The girls don’t notice.
“She can’t have you.” Alcina snarls.
“What is one night with her compared to an eternity with you?” You ask, “It’s only my body. You own the rest.”
“I own all of you!”
“Alcina, this is an opportunity to endear the village to us. I know you’ve been searching for one. You can hardly scoff when it drops into your lap!”
“I can when it involves loaning out my wife!”
You stand and move into her space. Slowly, you drag a finger up her arm, until you meet her gaze with eyes full of desire. Her jaw clenches.
“What if you’re there too, hm? You’ve always enjoyed watching.” You whisper.
Alcina exhales heavily through her nose. She rakes her eyes over you slowly and you can practically see the images behind them. You, in various positions, another pair of hands pinching and pulling at flesh, while all she can do is watch in a delicious state of helplessness. The interest and hate rolls off of her in waves.
Her hand wraps around your smaller one. Your wrist is pulled to her nose and she inhales, eyes darkening with the scent of you in her senses. Teeth dig in and pull blood from the veins. You try not to whine.
Three sets of eyes look up from their meal.
Alcina pulls a tasteful amount of blood from you before pulling away. It colors her lips like another shade of lipstick.
“You are mine, understood?” Alcina asks.
“Only yours.”
Cassandra gags, “Ugh. Get a room.”
“Or at least let us have a taste!” Daniela smiles, blood and flesh in her teeth.
“What did we say about boundaries, Dani?”
Daniela wilts under Bela’s chastising look. She curls in on herself, muttering obediently that having them is important while the blonde nods. Should the Cadou parasite not be the right path for you, you’d want to go in a way that benefits your family; where they consume you, down to your marrow; you gather now isn’t the time for such admissions.
Cassandra has leaned back in her seat to watch the scene unfold with thinly-veiled disgust. She’s using her sickle to pick flesh from between her teeth, accidentally flinging some into the center of the table.
“Cassandra.”
“Sorry, Mother.”
The middle daughter doesn’t stop despite her apology. Alcina digs her nails into the arm of her chair, the night’s events taking a toll on her sanity. You can’t blame her. There’s surely more news she’ll fill you in on when you’re wrapped up in bed.
Something else finds its way into the center of the table, staining the white cloth red, and you see Alcina tense.
“Girls, you’re excused.” You say quickly.
All three nod, crossing around to offer brief affection before leaving; Cassandra the quickest of all, you can’t help but feel sorry for any maids that may cross her path. Daniela and Bela are slower and more intentional, offering a kiss on the cheek to you and Alcina. Daniela skips from the room and Bela waits for her to leave before following.
It leaves you and your wife alone in the room, the latter with her head in her palm, releasing heaving breaths. You wait. Sipping at your soup politely, you spare glances her way.
“You’re intent on going through with this?” She asks.
“I am. I want to give the girls something to brighten their spirits.”
“And there’s no other way?”
“The village wants free of the Lycans and Karl won’t let them go unless Miranda tells him to. I’ve already made steep promises for my plans to happen at all, but this… there’s only one thing left to bargain with.”
Alcina seethes, “Very well.”
You lay your hand on the table between you, palm up.
She stares at it for a few long moments. Placing her own hand over your own, you smile, and bring it to your lips. You kiss the back of it reverently.
From there your plans unfold nicely. After a long meeting with Mother Miranda—in person, to Alcina’s disgust—the two of you settle on terms; she’ll permanently rid the village of lycans for 24-hours of unhindered access to you. It’s too easy, but that’s a problem for later.
Within a week the village is free of the twisted creatures. Detta seems both pleased and surprised you managed it when you visit, but makes good on her end of the bargain. The people are informed of your plans and the square undergoes an exciting transformation.
All of it is on your and Alcina’s dime of course. The Duke is all too happy to provide what you need for the lei you offer. He’s friendly enough though and you’re not naive to business relations, so you don’t take it too hard when he vanishes after collecting payment.
It feels like a whirlwind until the day of the festivities rolls around. You bounce on your heels in the hall of four, waiting for your family. Alcina descends the stairs first, wrapped in pure white fur, smirking at your apparent excitement.
“I’m glad to see you so pleased, draga mea.” Alcina presses a kiss to your lips.
“I just hope the girls like it.”
“They will,” She assures you, raising her voice, “Daughters!”
The familiar swarms race down the stairs, coming to a stop and forming your girls. Cassandra and Bela stand properly and nod at their Mother. Daniela throws herself into your arms, making you spin to catch her. She squeals in your ear.
“I’m so excited, Mama! A real winter festival!”
“Darling girl, try not to deafen your Mama.” Alcina suggests.
You kiss Daniela’s forehead, “I’m excited for you and your sisters to see it, bug.”
Cassandra clears her throat. You all glance her way.
“If you’re so excited, why are we still standing here?” She asks.
It’s a valid point. You miss the warning glance Alcina gives over your head, taking your wife’s arm and leading the way outside. The Dimitrescu carriage waits, the horses whickering and shaking their heads, eager to move. A maid holds open the door for you and your wife first.
You let Alcina step in, followed by your daughters, but don’t enter yourself. All four give you curious stares. But you rush to the front where the horses wait with forced patience.
They, like your family, are beautiful in a twisted nature; all a dappled gray, with midnight black manes, their flesh sunken in to reveal their skeletons. Their mouths drip black like they swallowed an inkwell. Where eyes once were are empty, red sockets. Though they lack the organs, you can still feel them follow your movements.
In a pouch you’ve tied to your hip are five apples you dipped in clotted blood. The first, Negatio, noses the bag with interest. You pat one side of his face while feeding him an apple with your other hand. You go through the same motions with the other four until they’re pleased and your family is suitably impatient, making you smile.
You’re tucked into Alcina’s side for the trip, enjoying the warmth of her body despite the heat in the carriage.
“Mama?” Bela asks softly.
“Yes, sweet bug?”
“How are you keeping the carriage warm?”
“A generator and heater I affixed to the back,” You answer. When they all stare blankly, you correct, “Technology I purchased from the Duke.”
They all nod in understanding. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, leaning back against the seat and enjoying the gentle sway of the carriage. Out the window a fine layer of snow has started to fall. Alcina takes your hand in her own.
You open your eyes and look up at her. She kisses the back of your hand, eyes impossibly fond. Cassandra rolls her eyes across from you.
“Can we go home yet?”
Alcina’s eyes are ripped from you as she glares. You raise your eyebrows at the reaction, saying nothing.
“Cassandra.”
“What? I’m just asking a question.”
“You know how much time your Mama has put into this. The least you can be is grateful.”
“I never said I wasn’t grateful! I just want to know how long this will take, there’s an old sword in the armory I had to stop working on.”
You lean forward, “If you’d rather, we can take you back to the Castle, Cassandra.”
“Absolutely not.” Alcina snarls, making murderous eyes at her middle daughter, “Cassandra will join her family for the festivities you so carefully planned and like it.”
Cassandra grumbles and crosses arms over her chest. When you’re sure your wife isn’t looking, you meet Bela’s eyes, the both of you looking lost and confused; silently asking what the fuck was that? Neither one of you can come up with an answer.
The youngest bounces eagerly in her seat by the window. It grates on Cassandra’s nerves the longer it happens and you’re waiting for all hell to break loose, you curse yourself for not telling the group to leave their weapons at home.
The carriage rounds a final bend and the lights of the village come into view. All four of your family members lean forward to get a look, eyes wide.
String lights hang from every tree and building around the village square. In the center stands a tall tree decked out with ornaments of all shapes and sizes. Some are brightly colored orbs and others a mesh of wood and glue, courtesy of the first graders at the school.
Near the back, in front of where Detta’s shop is, stands a long white tent. People dip in and out, some bearing arms full of goods, others clutching only a steaming drink.
When the carriage comes to a stop, you’re pleased to see minimal reactions to your arrival. You wave your girls out first.
“After you.”
Daniela shoves past her sisters and out into the air. She turns in circles and giggles, looking at you and Alcina with a large smile.
“Mother, it’s warm out here!”
“What?” Bela says aloud, while Cassandra scoffs out, “No way!”
Soon enough the three of them are standing outside of the carriage, looking surprised and excited. Daniela and Bela even join hands and dance childishly for a moment before Alcina clears her throat. You elbow her hard.
“Let them enjoy this.” You say.
“I am, but they’re still Ladies of House Dimitrescu. They need to uphold the image.”
“For who?”
“Mother Miranda strictly explained—“
“Mother Miranda needed you and the girls to intimidate so she could take what she wanted. The villagers are already frightened and Miranda’s achieved her goal. Let the girls be girls or I’ll have the carriage take you home.”
Alcina’s eyebrows reach her hairline. You hold your breath and wonder if you’ve gone too far, but she smirks.
“How refreshing,” She purrs, “Speak to me like that again and you may lose your tongue, draga mea.”
“Yes, Alcina.”
“Good girl.”
You’re led into the festivities on your wife’s arm. Though you helped set everything up, it looks better than you expected.
Detta waves shyly from across the square and you smile. The Duke sits next to her, gesturing passionately with his hands, and Detta blushes. You wink at the two.
Your girls have disappeared into the tent to harass the local vendors and you’re about to join them when Daniela skips out, hot chocolate in her hands.
“So,” You start, “still think Winter is awful and boring?”
“Pretty much! But this is nice. Maybe it’s not so bad if this happens.”
You laugh, shaking your head. Daniela grins and vanishes. You’ve done all you can to spruce up this winter for them and you’re rather proud of yourself.
You already have a new set of ideas for next year and a whole 12 months to plan this time; you’re looking forward to firmly changing Daniela’s mind… eventually. For now you’ll just settle for being together.
#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu x reader#lady dimitrescu x reader#resident evil village#resident evil 8#resident evil village x reader#re8#lady d#lady dimitrescu imagine#alcina dimitrescu imagine#wlw#wlw imagine#dec2022#multimilfswritings#multimilfsficmas2022
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There is something so delicious abt the intertwining of failure and success when it comes to the narratives of pathologic.
Daniil enters the town a success, a celebrity doctor, well know and well liked, desperate to save his lab and secure funding but ultimately it isn’t the end of his life if the Hail Mary doesn’t turn out- he still might find a way to save it. Even though the details are uncertain, Daniil Dankovsky enters the town mostly a success. Artemy enters the town hated, suspected of patricide, denied his inheritance, in p2 he didn’t get the degree his father wished of him (it was more about the actual learning than the degree but still) because he was drafted into the war. His old friends dislike him and all hate eachother, by all metrics, Artemy Burakh enters the town a complete failure.
However, even when Daniil gets the Utopian ending, his entire time in the Town is a never ending cycle of little victories that ultimately end in failures. He barely does jack shit, even his medicine sucks ass and doesn’t work. He’s technically the only person here with a medical degree even if both Rubin and Artemy are qualified, yet he functions as a bureaucrat most the time. Even if he gets the utopian ending, he still has failed to save his lab and his old life, it’s all still in ashes.
In Daniils quests, even the ones you do well, half the time it still feels like you’re losing. Daniils story is the story of a man who lost everything he held dear in the span of 2 weeks, the entire time getting punched in the balls.
However, Artemy, even though he enters the town as a failure, retakes his place. He manages to disprove his guilt, he finds his fathers murderer, takes his revenge, he takes his rightful place in the kin (debatable how much he wanted to but like, he didn’t want literally anything so yk), he reunites his friends, his medicine is so good, even when you’re playing as Daniil it’s THE most useful medicine you can create by far. HE ADOPTS CHILDREN FOR FUCKS SAKE.
If Daniil wins, he’s destroyed the town and the people will forever hate him for taking it away. If Artemy wins, he’s the town hero, the one who successfully filled his fathers shoes and saved the town from a deadly outbreak.
Does Daniil deserve such a title for his ending? Absolutely not lmao, he’s an outsider afterall. This was never his world to come in on, merely all he had left. But it’s simply showing how Daniil is doomed to be a failure, and Artemy has the chance of being a hero.
AND the way this feeds into burakovsky is great I feel, the town hero and the disgraced doctor. The one who had it all and lost it all vs the one who lost it all and gained so much more than he ever could’ve expected. Not to say Artemy has only won, but he comes out of the outbreak with far more of a purpose and direction in life, he has a job to do. Daniil has nothing at all, the closest thing being his old friends who spend all their nights drinking away their lives mourning the dream of Utopia. Artemy has set up the future of the town, the children who will ultimately succeed him. Daniil has lost the closest thing he had to a child as well as his own hope.
The story of Daniil is getting beat into the ground where the story of Artemy is climbing your way out of the pits of hell. And idk. I think. I just think it’s fun. (AND both of these things do LITERALLY happen- with Daniil getting the shit beat out of him in the abattoir and whenever you talk to Clara before Artemy jumps in the pit. Or in p2 whenever it’s arguably even more clear that he jumps in a glowing red pit and makes his way out of the bowels of the earth yk)
#Daniil saying he’s used to winning is such a cruel joke when his whole route is him repeatedly losing over and over again#before eventually losing himself#ITS SO GOOD. I just love how you never feel like you’re winning as Daniil. it’s fascinating.#he gives me so many feelings#truly a man doomed by the narrative#I fear this is mostly nonsense but hey#first pathologic text post#innane ramblings#probably relatively milque toast observations but whatever#daniil dankovsky#pathologic#pathologic 2#artemy burakh#wont tag burakovsky because I don’t go into much depth but know it is about them in that way.#and yes I mix p1 and 2 events with little regard for how much sense it makes- sue me#I make my own canon
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I have a crack theory that also isn't
Normal is the Doodler. The Doodler is also Generational trauma.
Here me out.
There's a lot of thought into this but it makes sense the more you think about it. The original Doodler wasn't anywhere near as powerful, it was powerful but nothing like it was now. Over the generations however it's grown.
Beary feared it.
Henry ignored it.
Lark and Sparrow want to destroy it.
And Normal? He wants to help it... or rather finally break the cycle.
So how can Normal be the Doodler? There have been a couple of hints for it so far.
-On Earth everything on the surface has to do with something within Normal's life. He likes pizza and his sister works at a pizza place. He loves music, and guess what there's a marching band! We know there's also Oakvale as well there.
-More than once has someone told Normal there is something Dark within him.
-What he says after seeing into the Doodler's mind are all things we have learned Normal struggles with...
-Normal loves mascots.. the Doodler was literally a mascot
(I'm sure there's more to add to this list)
Going back.
Lark and Sparrow both want to destroy Normal in a sense, they actively are shown to disprove of his feelings/interests/etc.
We don't know much about Normal and Henry's relationship but I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say he probably ignored Normal.
Finally, we haven't seen Normal and Beary yet,, but I have a feeling Beary is gonna fear Normal
I could be missing stuff. If anyone wants to add to this feel free
#dndads#dndads s2#Normal Oak#Henry Oak#Lark Oak#Sparrow Oak#i love Normal so much#dungeons and daddies
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Sharing a little DLTD theory I have @hateweasel (tagging in case you want to hear about it) :
Remember when Lilith wanted to resurrect Akeldama (last arc of Devils Like To Dance)? She couldn't because 1) she didn't know if Akedama was his real name and 2) his soul was probably not in limbo anymore, thus had already been reassigned (he's like suuuuuuuuuuuper old).
My theory is that Akeldama's soul was actually reassigned to Ciel ! I have two reasons : - While nothing proves this theory, nothing in canon disproves it ! - THE IRONY Think about Lilith ! Her goal so close to her, yet so so far away ! She dedicated her demon life to see him again, fraternazing with Krampus, killing and hurting people all around her ! She manipulated Ciel and hurt him without really wishing him harm, as she only wanted to reunite with the only person that ever showed her affection ! And all of that was doomed to the start. And why ? Because the man she tried to hurt was the one she was seeking. She could have turned around, in this arc Ciel accepted a few of his enemies by his side (Vincent bones weren't that happy about that) so I'm sure he would've accepted her redemption if she really would've want it. Alas, she turned into a dragon...
The cool thing is that this has like, no impact at all on DLTD. I just think it'd be fun if this soul was constantly plagued with a man or monster conflict and a tendancy to want to get revenge them kill itself in the most grandiloquente way imaginable.
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do you ever just think how gentaro's favourite food is watermelon, a large, expensive fruit, and one that is usually shared with someone else. do you ever think abt how, if scenario liar's lyrics have some sincerity in them, this is a luxury item when he was a child, but as an adult something he can buy as he pleases now w his own money. do you ever think abt how growing up he's never been truly alone bc he's got his brother to keep him company...eating watermelon in the short hokkaido summer...engaging in their favourite hobby of telling each other stories, making up ones abt the people they see...
more rambling abt the yumeno under the cut (it's long)
i'll get this out of the way first: it's a popular headcanon that gentaro's older brother is an identical twin, extrapolating from gentaro's novel summaries that we get a brief glimpse on in the first chapters of the fp+m manga, and last year, in the gendice duet, murder at the magic house. couple that with the ominous implication of him impersonating a known yumeno-sensei (who happens to be his brother), far removed from what gentaro used to be. i Love my possibly committing identity-theft, driven by vengeance blorbo. it would be very funny if kr pulls a fast one on us and theyre not identical at all, so let's enjoy the art and the speculation while nothing's confirmed yet wwww they already did that by revealing that gentaro's "friend in the hospital" is actually a family member
there's so little we know about gentaro's home life. there's tiny bits of it, like how much his clothes mean to him, how he would starve himself writing bc of deadlines, that there's a specific cafe he hangs out in, etc. but unlike rmd or dice, details abt his origins are p hazy...scenario liar is an entire backstory that gets shut down at the end by claiming it's all a lie. but who's believing this admission anyway
my headcanon is that the yumeno were born and lived in nowhere snowy mountain town, hokkaido (just to explain his birthdate being a wintry april 1st). they were orphaned and taken care of by their grandparents. theyre not well-off and p isolated. i like to think that w the aging of their grandparents, they depend more on eo as they get older. fast forward to some time in the future, their grandparents pass, and they both move out, maybe together, leaving behind their home mostly empty with nothing of sentimental value but the house itself. there's no one else known in line to keep or take care of the house, and it's left without the possibility of renovation. what's the point of that anyway?
i like to think this scenario of their childhood home, abandoned and dilapidated from years of neglect, having a sort of local legend surrounding it, that the house is haunted. someone goes in that house in indefinite times of the year. if you strain your ears enough you might hear faint footfalls from the inside, or a gentle voice carried by the wind. in reality it's just gentaro visiting for no particular reason. it's an empty childhood home.
last year i made a drawing w a similar lighting (and vague setting) to the one above, completely unintentional. he's all alone now....
i based it on one of the stuff gentaro said on hypradio: he likes to eat watermelon while sitting on the engawa, and he has spat so much watermelon seeds overtime that he's grown a garden of his own. he says it's a lie of course.
while there's no evidence to prove or disprove that gentaro now lives in a house with an engawa (in shibuya!), i get sad thinking abt him living in a space as large as that in the middle of a busy city, alone...
one of my favourite things abt gentaro is although he shares the then-nihilism of fp, that everything has no meaning or purpose, he's not Entirely self-destructive like ramuda or dice. gentaro doesn't seem to think he's disposable especially when he's got some avenging to do. in fact he tries so hard to be invulnerable.
the irony is that theres very little of his own personhood to destroy anyway. what's there to dispose? even confessing, although he says it's a lie, "i'm not yumeno gentaro." in a way he's done with the destruction, done with the death, and he's well in the middle of decay— and decaying is a process full of life, it is less about reducing the body into smaller and smaller pieces than it is about being nourishment...gentaro's desire is to keep telling stories that might bring joy, even if it meant he'll have to keep lying his whole life....
i feel that i have more to say abt gentaro and his brother but my grasp on the english language is getting slippery the more i type lol. he drives me insane <3
#hypmic#not an analysis it's really just....thoughts abt gentaro#imagine being so emotional abt a faceless character#this is an impulsive post i just need to get some words out#hypnosis mic#gentaro yumeno#france art
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Hii I was intrigued by your headcanon that Cromwell burnt Arthur
I'd be interested to know more of your thoughts on this (like why that happened)
Reeeaaalllly not happy with this one but I'm running out of time, I'll circle back to this again, Anon!
Trigger warnings for detail of gore
‘It’s been a long day’
Day 20 of Whumptober
Going into shock/ Foetal position/ Prisoner trade
Characters: England
Day 19
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Witches are not usually burnt in England. That death is reserved for heretics, or only for the worst of witches with another crime to their name.
'Yours are too many to list,' Arthur was told, thick iron chains clamped tight around chaffed wrists as the Lord Protector of his realm paced before him in anxious lines, 'A demon in human form sent to tempt me with pretty lies; witchcraft and curses to lead me astray.'
Men feared what they did not understand. Some men did not understand that which challenged them, that which disproved a core belief or morality that guided them through this messy fucking life. The teachings of the church and Arthur's mere existence going head to head in the minds of those with too much fear and not enough heart to make sense of the unsensable.
Irrefutable. Impossible. True.
Nonetheless, against all possibility and probability, true.
In the eyes of men, Albion had seen his reflection change across history. He is not known to them now, not for who he really is, unless he blesses them with that knowledge. And then- then they see him again. See who he is, what he is for. Can speak his true name, understand the full meaning of his words and use him as he is meant to be used. He sees, he remembers, and he shares and they know.
Times change and opinions change with it Arthur knows, but never before has he been betrayed by one of his own like this.
He was granted a private death. It could be seen as kind but Arthur knows that it is not. Cromwell doesn’t want him to be watched lest what Arthur had told him is proven true- that people will fight, will rise up in his name to hear him. Will push to cut him free, will carry him away without really knowing why they feel so deeply for this stranger with the ancient eyes.
So behind the stone walls of the tower he is locked, cold and alone and waiting until his time comes. Bound and tied as the kindling at his feet is stacked higher higher higher, forcing himself not to search or pray for rain that could grant him a precious extra day. Waits silently as his sentence is read, his sins proclaimed to a waiting bland priest who tuts and shakes his head solemnly to hear the severity of his crimes.
The wood is stacked under his feet. His mouth is gagged. He cannot protest and tries not to. Tries to go with dignity, although his soul is broken by this betrayal. This man knows him, and yet-
The fire catches. Arthur’s head is free to move and he can’t help it, he looks down to watch. It creeps slowly at first, jumping to the hay pressed between larger logs, fat and oil glittering along the sides but then the flame is swallowed, goes deeper. Warmth begins at his toes and smoke fills his nose as wood begins to snap.
He shuts his eyes and tries to be logical. If he breathes in deeply, the smoke will kill him faster than the fire will. Maybe if he breathes in enough, he will fall unconscious before there is too much damage.
He tries it. Tries to take big lungfuls of smoke but breaks of choking. Panic sets in as it grows hotter and he struggles against his bindings, all sense gone as the flames find him, a man of earth and clay amongst the fallen tress of his felled woods. He fancies he catches sight of Wales’ face at a tower window, watching behind thick glass. He’s not seen his brother in years, doesn’t even know where he is and before Arthur is even sure it is him he is gone, nothing but dark windows that watch as he throws back his head and screams himself hoarse.
He feels his skin bubble, smells the scent of himself cook amongst the wood- hair and fat and blood. He feels far far too much for far too long before blessed shock finally sets in and he is free, mind numbing as his body shuts down from the agony. Death approaches as his lungs grow too tight to inhale and he knows that this death will be deeper, will be longer than usual. The times have changed, too much too soon, and to learn the wicked ways of the world he embodies he must walk amongst it for a time.
He is glad. The last thing that he thinks as himself for a lifetime, is that he is glad he won’t have to think any more.
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For a wonderful wonderful look into Cromwell and England, I highly recommend reading @needcake 's In This Universal River
Day 21
Full Masterlist
#aph england#hws england#arthur kirkland#historical hetalia#aph#hws#whumptober#hetalia#whumptober 2022#whumptalia#heroes writes#heroes answers
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