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writingsbychlo · 1 year

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lazy sundays | azriel

summary; you and azriel spend a lazy sunday together.

word count; 3507

notes; just a cute little thing. like, sickeningly fluffy, you will absolutely need a dentist appointment after reading this. based on this little dash conversation between me and @acourtofwhatthefuck last sunday

Stretching your arm out to the other side of the bed as you woke, your sleep-muddled brain could still process the coolness of your mate's side of the sheets. Long abandoned, not surprising. He was always such an early riser, even on the days that he called a lie-in. By the warmth of the sunlight and the placement of the rays across the room leaking in from the crack in the blinds, you’d guess it was early afternoon.

Just how you liked your Sundays.

There were tendrils of smoky shadows twisting around your body, skittering upwards toward your face as they realised you were awake. One coiled happily around your wrist, swirling up your forearm, another brushing lightly over your cheek before moving away, and you stared up at the ceiling. Children were playing outside in the streets, soaking up the cold winter sun, trudging through snow and relishing in the freedom of childhood. Maybe one day, your own children would do the same.

Rolling from the sheets without bothering to straighten them, the air in the house was warm, no doubt Azriel’s doing, the cracking of the fireplace from the living room evident as you padded out of the hallway, tugging one of Azriel’s baggy, wing-accommodating hoodies over your head to cover your nightgown.

You found Azriel in the living room, exactly where you expected him to be, sprawled out on the deep couch, wings drooping behind him, brushing the cold tiles of the floor as he focused on his book. Your favourite pair of his sweatpants sat low on his hips, pale grey and practically threadbare after all these years, leaving every lean muscle and taut line of his chest on display for you. You bit your lower lip, and he chuckled, never looking up from his book.

“Are you going to just stand there, staring, all day?”

Finally, shining hazel eyes left the pages of the book and moved up to meet your gaze, filled with love behind those thick frames, and the amusement in them was evident when you shrugged. “You look like a piece of art, how can I not?”

“Well, luckily for you, my love, you get to touch the art on display,” He raised his brows, just a fraction, something halfway between a smirk and a smile on his lips. He parted his arms, moving one hand with his book, the other patting his chest softly. “Come here, lay with me.”

Your feet were moving before you even needed to command them to do so, the shadows swirling around you both growing closer and closer, until the small swarm he’d sent to watch over you once he’d left the bed was finally reunited with the pack as your knees bumped the edge of the couch. Settling down between his parted legs, his arms closed around you as your cheek met his bare skin, heart thudding slow and steady beneath it, lulling you into a tranquil relaxation the way it always did, the way he knew it did.

“Do you want me to read to you?” He mumbled, lips brushing the crown of your head as his free hand wove into your hair, letting you twist and turn until you were truly comfortable.

“What are you reading?”

“A book that Nesta gave to me.” That sent a spike of amusement through you, an equal one coming surging down the bond to meet it, lighting your chest up from the inside out.

“You’re reading a smutty novel?” You chuckled, feeling the rumble of his laughter meet it underneath your cheek, and the hand that wasn’t holding the book continued to rub at your scalp, fingertips pressing and kneading in a way that made you sigh.

“Not quite. This is a spy book, something she said she’d once read in the human realms, before any of this, and when she saw it again, she said it reminded her of me. I figured the least I could do was actually read it.” He huffed a little, using the thumb holding the book open to try and turn the page single-handedly, and after watching him struggle for a moment, you took one side of it, holding it and turning the page, before letting him take it again.

“Is it any good?”

“It’s… something.” His avoidance of the question made you grin, silently waiting for him to finish his chapter, a finger tracing over the hard and defined lines on his chest, making him twitch and shudder every so often when your nail would scrape. Goosebumps were sometimes left in your wake, and when he finally untangled his hand from your hair and marked the book to put it down, his hands returned only a moment later, skating up your sides lightly. “You make it extremely hard to concentrate, do you know that?”

“I wasn’t doing anything!” He raised a single brow, smirk forming on his lips as his hands hovered over your sides.

“Oh, really? So, you weren't tickling me, on purpose?” His fingers game down, skittering along your flesh in ways that made you squirm and giggle against him, twisting in his grasp as he mercilessly teased you the way you had him, until you breathless, cheeks warm, curling back into him, now with your back to his chest instead. “Are you hungry?”

“For what?” You muse, twisting your head up to kiss at the underside of his jaw, his cheek, anywhere you could reach. Azriel merely hums, arms tightening a little around you in a warning to behave. “I’m craving something sweet. Maybe some cookies?”

“With dark chocolate chips?” There was a note of excitement to his voice as he spoke, and you realised that it wasn’t you who was craving something sweet, but in fact, merely a feeling being blasted down the bond to you since you’d woken up. “And those little caramel chunks mixed in?”

“Of course, would I ever make them any other way?”

You received a kiss to your temple in agreement, before the arms were unwrapping from around you, Azriel shifting below you, prompting you to stand as he followed. He was barely a step behind you on the way to the kitchen, falling into a quick and simple routine as he began pulling familiar ingredients from the cabinets as you sourced equipment, laying them all out in the order he knew you’d need them.

As you began to cook, he leaned back against the counter behind you, watching you work while slowly humming a song, one you’d only recently heard, played by a band along the Sidra when you’d been walking home from dinner only a few nights ago.

Cool fingers swept gently over your skin, brushing hair back from each side of your neck until it fell down your back, one finger twirling around it all to keep it out of your face, a loose ponytail held together only by his touch. Warmth pressed up along your back, soft lips skimming your neck, and you titled your head to grant him further access.

Those featherlight brushes became delicate kisses, placed along your neck and shoulder, chaste affection in the quiet of the kitchen; only occasionally interrupted by the rustle of ingredient bags, the clinking of the mixing spoon on the bowl, or the slightly louder screams of in joy of the children playing in the streets below your apartment. Wrapping his other arm around your waist, you were held securely to his front, that humming reverberating through your entire body as you slowly scooped out the mixture, placing dollops of it onto a baking tray, trying to ensure all portions were equal.

“I love you.” The words came as a whisper, and you smiled, continuing your work, using the edge of your finger to wipe clumps of batter off of the spoon and onto the tray.

“You’re just saying that because I’m making you your favourite cookies.”

“Maybe..” He teased, but he gave a light tug to the hair he was holding back out of your face, a bite left on your covered shoulder, just enough pressure to make you shudder, laughing against him at the act. “Do you remember why these are my favourites, though?”

“Of course, how could I possibly forget that moment?” You finished scraping the batter out, using as much as you could, before using your hips to nudge Azriel back and away from you, a groan falling from him at the press of your ass against him through those sinfully thin sweatpants, and you chuckled, leaving his embrace. “Don’t you start that, you’re the one who wanted cookies.”

“Hush.” He scowled, taking the tray that you pressed into his hands, and wandering away to the oven he’d already pre-heated, setting the tray inside carefully. You hopped up onto the counter, licking the excess batter from your finger, and watching the shift of his back muscles, the twitches of his wings, as he moved, dreamy sigh unstoppable as it left you. “Are you staring at my ass again?”

“Oh, because you're so innocent of that one.”

When the oven gloves were stacked neatly back on the counter, bowls and dishes cleared away to the sink, he finally turned to face you, a wicked glint in his eye. “We have twenty minutes to kill.”

“We do indeed, what could we ever get done in that time?” He rolled his eyes at you, stepping forwards, hips sitting snugly between your parted legs as your arms looped around his neck, playing lightly with the grown-out curls at the base. “You need a haircut.”

“I thought you liked my hair when it was longer?” Warm, calloused hands were smoothing up along your thighs, before finding a resting home on your hips, his forehead coming down to rest on your own as your noses bumped together.

“I do, but this is getting a little bit too long. I feel like I'm kissing Cassian.” He bit your lower lip, a soft growl coming out when you gasped, and you squeezed him in a little tighter to you.

You leaned forward, trying to catch his lips, but he pulled back, making sure he was barely a centimetre from you, but not close enough. “Point taken, hair cut tomorrow, then.” His hands squeezed at your waist, smirk on his lips, before he was finally closing the space. “Kissing Cassian, don’t even think it.” He mumbled, before his lips were pressing against your own feverishly. Your body sparked alight, the intensity of his kiss sent you reeling.

Love and passion and tension, all pouring through his lips, through his heart into your chest, enough of a feeling to make your head spin and you grasped onto him. Fingers pressing into his skin, his hands bunching into the material of his own hoodie as it lay over your body, beginning to make you feel overwhelmingly hot underneath.

He sensed it, as he always did, cooling his kisses just a fraction, pulling back and using his nose to nudge your chin up, pressing sweet kisses along your jaw, until he was nuzzling into your neck, tickling you once again, until giggles were spewing from your lips in a way only he’d ever been able to make you do.

“I wish all of our days could be like this.” It was a deeper confession than you’d expected, the fingers tangled in his hair loosening to free one hand, slipping it to his cheek, pulling him back from your neck to catch your eye.

“Az..”

“I just miss you so much when I’m away, I want nothing more than to be here with you every day, like this, living in this little bubble with you.” His head twisted, fleeting kiss left on your palm, and your fingers twitched against his face in response.

“Not every day can be a Sunday, Az.” His brows furrowed a little, and you pulled him closer, dipping pecks to his lips which he reciprocated happily, sinking into your affections once again. “Some days, are Mondays. The days when I know you’re going away, that feeling of a brand new week beginning, knowing how long until the weekend comes, when I have to pack you up and send you off with a kiss on the balcony.”

“I don’t get weekends like that.”

“It’s a metaphor, Azriel.” You tutted at him, your lips barely brushing as you spoke now, whispered words to only ever be shared between the two of you. “There’s Tuesdays and Thursdays, the middle days, where everything just feels numb, you get on with your jobs but nothing feels special. That’s what it's like when you’re away from me. The days where I get up and go to work, everything is quiet, and it kind of feels like the end is never in sight.”

His hands flexed, an apology echoing down the bond.

“There are Wednesdays, halfway through the week, when you know you’ve made it this far, you’re over the peak and on the descent. Those are the days when you send word to me, that everything is going well, when you tell me you’re okay, you’re coming home soon. The days when you’re away on missions for Rhys, when you finally get that breakthrough, and you know you’ll be home to me soon.”

“And Fridays?”

“Fridays are the days you come home. The days when I can feel you getting closer to me through the bond, when I know you’ve arrived, when I finally see you land on the balcony and step back into my arms.” He hummed, lips puckering in a request you indulged, meeting him in the middle as your mouths fused together once again.

Sun-rays cascaded through the room, warming you from the outside as his love warmed you front he inside, tingling all the way down to your fingertips like it was the first time he’d kissed you, a sensation that had yet to fade, and you hoped it never would. “What does that make Saturdays, then?”

“Saturdays are the busy but fun days, the days when we go for dinner with your family, when we go out for dates and walks around the Sidra, when we babysit Nyx, when we paint with Feyre, when we visit other courts for fun, not work. Saturdays are the days when we go out to Rita’s with more, we dress up and get tipsy and come stumbling home together laughing.” Affection and nostalgia filled you, whether it was from you or him it didn’t matter, it was simply there, shared. “Sundays, are for us. Days for just me and you, just me and you, here, with nothing to do, nobody to see. No responsibilities. But we can’t have Sunday, without all the other days.”

“When did you become so wise, my lovely mate?” Azriel pushed back tendrils of hair to sit behind your ears, gazing at you fondly, and his shadows copied the touch, tracing toward you along his fingertips, swirling lazily between and around you both.

“I’m probably just stealing all my wisdom from you.” Your hands rubbed over his heart, bare skin warmed under your fingertips, he was always so warm. “So, do you want to tell me about your book?”

His eyes rolled at that, shoulders sagging a little in disappointment, and you felt him release the tension, the slight bud of guilt he’d been building, as he got distracted. “It’s.. irritating me.”

“Why, my love?” You gave his own petname back to him, and felt the ripple of a skipped heartbeat from him.

“Because, they’re not good spies!” The words burst from him, bringing a grin to your lips as he frowned., brows dipping together in frustration only a true bookworm could understand. “They’re so obvious! It’s all public fights and big fires and making a scene. That’s not how you spy, these aren’t spies. I should know! It’s terrible, not at all a true representation of the job.” He followed his outburst with a rough exhale.

“Oh, no, my precious spymaster, your reputation will be ruined.” You giggled at the teasing, and he produced a noise somewhere between a scoff and a growl, only making you laugh more at his displeasure. He leaned in, tongue flicking in a lick over your lips before he was silencing you with another fiery kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with your own, and laughter died down into a panted moan instead, swallowed by him as he insistently pressed on.

“Much better, I like you moaning for me than laughing at me.” His words made you shudder, and he pulled you closer to him, ass hanging off the edge of the counter and legs tightening around him, chests pressing together, heaving with desperate breaths sucked in through needy kisses, heart beating frantically against one another’s chests.

The thread in your chest was thrumming, glowing golden behind your closed eyes as his lashes fluttered against your cheeks, your fingers tightening in his hair. Your free hand ran down his arm, slowly, squeezing at the thick and solid muscles as he flexed them, until your fingers were wrapping around his wrist, ready to tug his hand up a little higher than your waist. His fingers loosened in the material of your stolen jumper, ready to follow your lead, before the timer on the over let out a sharp beep.

You jumped apart, his back stiffening slightly at the sudden intrusion, before relaxing, threat gone, shadows darting out in jagged lines to flip the switch off and silence the beeping. He was panting, gasping breaths sucked into his lungs, pink splotched across his tanned cheeks, eyes wide and dark, hair messy. One of your favourite looks on him, truly. His hand did slide up, your fingers slipping from his wrist as it bypassed where you’d intended for it to go, rising to cup your jaw instead.

Running his thumb over your lips, he wiped away the residual slickness there, likely swollen and red still, like his own, and he licked over his lower lip, letting it drag through his teeth for a second. “Always so distracting, my love,” He mumbled, and you pressed a kiss to the pad of his finger before it slipped away to rest on your chin, a gentle smile on his face. “How do you still do this to me, after all these years?”

“You still have quite the effect over me too, shadowsinger.” He smiled, and you pressed in, close enough to feel his heartbeat on your chest once again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his eyes, the wrinkles for his smile deepening when you moved to the other. His hands locked onto your waist, lifting you down so your toes could touch the tiles once again, and you hissed at the cool feeling, surging up your body and clearing your mind of the fog.

He left a final kiss brushed on your head, before retrieving a plate from the cupboards, and you slipped the oven mitts over your hands, securing them before opening the door. Warm air rushed out, coating your front as you pulled the cookies from the oven, resting the tray on top.

Together, you plated them up, letting Azriel carry it, leading you back through to the couch the two of you had abandoned to bake, placing them cookies within reach on the small table, beside his evident failure of a book. Flopping back down happily, his wings rustled behind him for a second, adjusting to a comfortable position, before he was opening his arms for you, letting you settle once again against his chest.

You let out a happy sigh as his arms sealed around you, one hand holding a cookie, taking a bite, and groaning happily at the taste.

“You’re always so warm.” You pressed in as close as you could, revelling in the Illyrian heat running through his veins, designed to keep him warm up in those mountains, and to keep to you warm always.

“You’re cold?” You only hummed, eyes fluttering shut, surrounded by his smell, his heat, his touch, never having felt more at home. He shifted beneath you, arms leaving you and reaching behind for the blanket sitting along the back cushions, flapping it out and securing it around your bodies. “Better?”

“Better.” He seemed happy with that, pride radiating from in him waves at having provided, and you settled in comfortably. “Will you read to me now?”

“Of course, but I warn you, this book is wholly underwhelming.”

“Then we can laugh about it, together.” He picked up the book, opening it to the marked page and cleared his throat a little. Only moments later, the timbre of his voice was echoing around the room, deep and lulling as he read the words, tone painting a perfect picture in your mind. So many times you had also wished you could spend more days like this than you got, but your lives didn’t allow it. However, when lazy Sundays like this came along, it made them feel all the more precious.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #azriel/you #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar/reader #acotar/you #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger

1K notes · View notes

kekaki-cupcakes · 8 months

Note

Hello! ✨

So… hear me out: Nico with a monster reader.

Like imagine he is sent out to defeat him but turns out he’s good and super like chill and relaxed.

Like imagine he goes in and suddenly he is sat down drinking tea and chatting about the weather.

Lol.

So nico sneak him in the camp covered in mist and when asked goes like *cue it’s a smoothie meme* “just found him… nothing weird here”

And if ppl discover the reader is a monster he like defends him like totally?

Like I imagine he’d love a reader that’s like maybe half snake? Idk. ‘Cause I think he finds snakes cute.

Maybe not a harpy or fury (is it called like that? I’m not sure)

Leo could totally pull the same stuff too. Maybe Percy too.

Jason totally not.

What do you think?

You can just answer to this as thoughts in need of an opinion and not a request if u want to/feel uncomfy writing this kind of reader.

Ps: loved the Dionysus one. Love love love it!

Kisses and enjoy that smoothie!

Love this idea, it was so fun to write and off I went a little overboard it's like 3.1k words so production is delayed but whatevs. It was a bit harder to write a totally general reader because of the monster thing but I think it worked. And if figured out that I tend to write character x readers from the perspective of the character requested too.

Chocolate cream and iced honeycomb---Nico di Angelo x Monster Reader

»»————-　★　———

“RACHGAA!”

“AHGHGHAAAA!” Nico snarled back at the sandy green snake.

It reared back a fraction, unblinking eyes narrowed at him as its thin tongue flickered in and out. Nico just stuck his tongue back out at the Ceraste, a horned viper. It would have been an easy fight, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ceraste grew to be about as big as an alligator.

It bowed to him, but that wasn’t a good thing. Two sets of horns, sharp and spiked, glimmered in the afternoon sunshine as Nico stood his ground, Stygian iron sword ready. “I have other monsters to kill, could we make this quick?”

Mortals around them just whispered behind their hands and kept walking, ignoring the battle to the death in the middle of the street. They probably just saw Nico walking an especially spiky and greek dog. He imagined the Ceraste as a poodle for a moment, and then stepped to the side and swung his sword quickly, blocking the violent jab in his direction.

“You’re supposed to be cute,” Nico hissed at it, stomping down hard on its tail and prodding at the light scales flecked with brown. Blood dripped almost instantly. Its scales were as tough as a normal snakes was, and he took advantage of that. Next time it circled, and shot out with lightning speed, shadows creating an arc through the warm summer air as Nico lashed out.

There was the sound of tearing skin, and a disgustingly drawn out squelch, that ended with a thud.

Nico kept his eyes squeezed shut until he could wipe the blood off his face, and then stared down at the decapitated ancient reptile. Blood and guts squished into the road, which he had to stomp on a few times before they melted into gold and ran down the drains in the rubbish filled gutters.

“Uhh,” Nico muttered, flapping his hand about until the sticky dark blood wasn’t on him anymore. “I need a drink.”

He glanced around the bustling New York street, spotting a hippie cafe that wouldn’t have anything stronger than a matcha tea, and a starbucks. A Mcdonalds not in sight, and at least another hour of tracking the final monster ahead of him, Nico opened the door to the busy starbucks.

As he stood in line behind someone with their hair in a dark bun, and two teenage girls wearing strawberry dresses, he unfolded the piece of paper with instructions for his mission. His target was supposed to be around this district, but Chiron wasn’t sure where exactly. Nico was sent to do the dirty work, because apparently nobody else wanted to see the light drain from something's eyes when they could be finding more demigods or retrieving lost items.

Monsters had been attacking demigods before they were in danger. Last week an eight year old Iris boy had showed up to camp with half a leg left, and the attacks had only grown in numbers.

Apart from being around this place, the only thing in common with the spike of violence, was the scales and thin tongues. A few Hydra's, Echidna the she-dragon had made another appearance, and of course, the multitudes of Ceraste.

Nico had just killed four of them, but there were more to come and more demigods in danger unless he found the source. Chiron had his theories, of course, but far-fetched was the idea that one of the snake footed giants had risen from the earth again. Glycon was an option of course, but Nico doubted it was him.

The queue had disappeared, standing around on the other side of the cafe as they waited for their orders, save one person, who was ordering an ‘iced honeycomb caramel latte’. The boy brushed his hair over his shoulder and turned to look out the window, then back to where he was paying for his latte.

Nico followed his gaze, watching with dread as the previously dead snake was hissing by the window. Hissing right next to him as well.

Nico turned slowly, hand on the hilt of his dark sword, but he was only met with the face of a small green python watching him curiously, big eyes shining underneath the bright lights of the cafe. He smiled back at it, immensely confused.

Then the little snake was pulled away and wrapped up into a writhing green ponytail of scales and little puppy-like reptilian faces, flickering tongues and toothless mouths.

“Is your boyfriend gonna order, or…”

Nico blinked out of his snake induced trance and whipped around to where the girl behind the counter was blinking tiredly at him.

The boy next to Nico stuffed change into his pockets and shook his head. The head the snakes were attached to, that was. The boy's eyes were covered by circular black glasses. He smiled. “Oh, I don’t know the emo.”

“I…” Nico started, eyes wide as he took what, or rather who, he was seeing. A gorgon. A real life teenage medusa [and a cute one at that], was standing in the middle of a starbucks, snakes tied back with yet another of the small pythons. He blinked a few times and cleared his throat, turning back to the cashier. “I’ll have one of the chocolate cream… frappuccinos, please.”

“Coming right up,” the cashier muttered, typing into their ipad and then motioning for him to move to the other side of the counter. Where the monster was.

The monster that Nico was starting to suspect he’d have to kill.

»»————-　★　————-««

“There you go. Have a great day.”

“Thanks,” Nico muttered back just as enthusiastically, and took his drink. He was still holding the hilt of his sword, heart pounding as loud as his footsteps as he stomped away. Was he supposed to find the lair of this teenage boy? Was he immortal? Was there any point killing him if he’d just pop up again? What was Nico going to do?

He didn’t have a drachma on him to call camp and ask Chiron what he should do, and to be honest, he wouldn’t have listened to whatever instruction he was given anyway.

The straw was pulled from his mouth as he was yanked sideways.

Something scratchy brushed his arm, and his middle was grabbed tightly. The breath left his lungs and the world blurred for a moment. Then he gasped, drink flying out of his hand, and landed in a booth on the red leather with a yelp. “What the-”

“Hello, pretty boy.”

Nico stared for a moment, heart racing. The boy [monster. He was a monster, not a person. There was a difference. Maybe] sat on the other side of the booth with a grin, latte in hand. His nails were painted green.

Nico noticed this as he gestured to the side, where the Ceraste he had just killed sat coiled up next to the table like a dog waiting for its owner. The sharp horns on its head looked a lot less threatening now that there was a pink scrunchie around one of them. “This is Keith, say hi, Keith.”

“RACHGAA!”

“What-”

“Ssso like, I'm just getting this straight, if you’re gonna kill me, just say that now.” The boy said, leaning forward with his hands pressed together and an easy smirk. “Because I havent been killed yet and I'm not going to Tartarusss anytime soon.”

He glanced towards Keith with a serious expression. “You sssaw what happened to Jeremy.”

Kieth’s tongue flickered in and out once. He seemed to take it as an agreement. Nico’s hand left his hilt as he spoke, even though he had no control of the situation and there was a tensed up snake by his feet. “What would you do if I was going to kill you?”

“Keep you asss an ornament in my Auntie Em’s garden.” He said, and Nico felt his legs swinging under the table. He put his chin on the palm of his hand. “You’re very pretty.”

Nico wasn’t sure which part of the conversation he should be worried about at this point. He didn’t really want to become a statue, but his stomach was filled with a pit of snakes and he was more worried that this gorgon could see the blush on his face through his black tinted glasses. He ended up blinking, a bit stunned.

“That was a joke, holy Hadesss you’re a wet mop of a person, aren’t you.”

“You’re the one with the mop head.” Nico snapped back with a sharp glare. That might not have been the right thing to say though, judging by the way one of the pythons sitting on the boy's shoulder wilted a little, ducking its soft looking head.

It got a pat on the head. “Don’t listen to him noodle, he didn’t mean it.”

Nico looked at the little green snake. Somehow it looked like it was smiling at him, but that could’ve just been the shape of its mouth. “...Sorry Noodle.”

“Noodle saysss thank you.”

Nico looked down at the floor, where his drink was now a brown puddle surrounded by broken shards of plastic. He glanced back up, squinting at the wriggling pythons that were no longer in a pony [snake?] tail. “Can you actually, you know…”

“Noodle says that Becky said Loch Nessss likes your earringsss, but they think you could do something with your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Nico scoffed, wrinkling his nose. Did his hair look bad? “It looks fine.”

“Don’t asssk me, ask Loch Ness,” he got in reply, then another smirk. Nico’s stomach rolled again, but it didn’t feel necessarily bad. What on Olympus was that supposed to mean? “And I reckon your hair’s pretty as isss.”

A moment passed, and Nico got the feeling he was being assessed. The boy opposite him sniffed once, and Nico wondered if he smelled like snake guts. That couldn’t be a very good look. “You’re a big three, aren’t you… Wait, no, let me guessss… Poseidon.”

Nico raised an eyebrow.

“That was a joke, if you couldn’t tell.”

“I figured.” He muttered, watching in slight disgust as Keith started to lick the chocolate cream frappuccino off the grimy tiles. “And you?”

“Daughter of Aphrodite.”

“That was a-”

“Joke. You’re catching on, pretty boy.” He grinned, and Nico noticed with a gulp that two of his teeth were sharpened and pearly white. Fangs. He shrugged, chin on his hands. “I honestly have no idea though, I dunno how I’m here. Maybe I sprouted out of her head like that flying horse did.”

“Why are you sending monsters to kill-”

“I wasss just tryna divert the attention, okay? That corpse wasssn’t my fault-” He started, waving his hand in the air to prove his point. ONe of the snakes, maybe noodle, twisted around a few times, tongue flickering out. Nico swore another one with a scar down its scaly spine rolled its soft brown eyes.

“What corpse?”

“No corpssse. I dunno what you’re on about, no one died.” He said quickly, taking a long loud sip of his drink, ice clinking. After a moment he sighed and looked down at the chipped nail polish on his hands. “Some demigod dude, ugh there's ssso many of you, gods must be like rabbits or something. Anyways, one of them found me and I diverted the attention, so I’d get another few weeksss.”

“Another few weeks of…?”

“Life. I mean, I can hide easily, but I already spent a month in San Fransisssco being chased by pitchforksss and metal dogs, and I didn't get Ssstarbucks for like, years, otherwise sssomeone would just pop out with a spear and stabby stabby no more Gabby.”

The scarred snake drooped sadly a little, slinking back into the writhing mass. Nico shook his head quickly. “Camp Half-Blood’s not like that. And I can use the mist.”

“What, you just gonna follow me around New York waving your handsss about for the rest of your life?” He chuckled, swirling his plastic cup around a few times and taking another sip.

“No, you can come back with me.”

Nico wasn’t even sure when he’d come up with the plan, but there was something about his smirk and his nail polish and his stupid jokes and the puppy-like python faces swirling around him that made Nico wince when he imagined him sleeping on the streets fighting off Romans.

“Why should I do that?”

“I…” Nico faltered. What reason did he really have? “I dunno.”

He bounced up, snakes swinging. Keith looked up from the puddle on the ground and shook its tail excitedly, like it knew what was happening already. Maybe this teenage gorgon really could mind control the ancient reptiles.

“Sssweet, let’s go!”

»»————-　★　————-««

“Ssso you’re like, completely sure I won’t be decapitated on sight?”

Nico paused, turning away from the gap in the shrubbery at the base of Half-Blood hill. He’d been watching as demigods slowly trickled into the dining pavilion, cabins regrouping for dinner and burning meals. He couldn’t promise this [really cute] boy that he’d be safe here, but Nico could promise that he’d protect him from any especially violent and biased Ares kids.

“If anyone tries to hurt you I won’t let their siblings visit them in the underworld.”

Nico had to look away again, red faced as he did that thing again, leaning forwards with his hand under his chin and his lips quirked up. “How romantic.”

“I- uh…” Nico choked, and then turned back to the now empty strip of green and strawberry plants, finally letting out a tense breath. “If we go now, I can hide you in my cabin until I guilt trip Chiron into letting me keep you.”

“And Keith.”

“And Keith,” he sighed. One more check to see if the coast was clear, and he slunk out of the bushes, pebbles crunching underneath his boots. He grabbed his new Starbucks [he’d been bought a new one as an apology for nearly being killed by Keith] and waved frantically behind him. “Hurry up, we gotta move.”

There was a scuffling, and then the slick sound of scales moving as the Ceraste followed them past the big house and down to the campfire. The flames were a humming orange, burning brightly in the dusk. It was summer, the mood was always high as campers came from school back to their families and friends.

“Okay, so like, where are you friendsss? Do you have friendsss?”

“Do you?” Nico shot back with a glare, keeping an eye on the open door of the Hermes cabin, but there was no movement inside, except for the pegasus that was chewing on someone's pillow.

“Yup! Noodle and Becky and Loch Nessss and Keith and Gabby and Fruit-”

“Yes…” Nico whispered back, rolling his eyes, but when he turned a little, Loch Ness [how could he already tell them apart?] was flicking its little black tongue at him, gummy mouth wide. “I have friends.”

“Great, isss that them?”

“...What.”

Nico whipped around, stepping in front of the boy he was currently smuggling with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Keith rattled its tail and hissed, neck arched. Nico wasn’t sure who was approaching them, the figures covered by the shadow of the Iris cabin. He kept his voice low, “the mist, we have to cover you.”

“Can you use the missst?” He whispered back loudly, over the nervous hissing around him.

“Of course I can use the mist,” Nico said. Then he realized something and gritted his teeth, face red. “But, just on me, unless I’m… you know…”

“Nope. I don’t know.” He said simply, and Nico turned away, grabbing his hand very quickly and closing his eyes for a moment, eyebrows pinched in concentration. Nico tried to focus on the magic he was weaving through the air and not the weirdly smooth skin of the hand he was holding, and if his own was sweaty or not.

When he opened them, the boy beside him was blinking with foggy looking dark green eyes that matched the snakes now covered by a dark hood. The only thing still him was that stupid smirk. “Did it work?”

“Yeah,” Nico’s voice wavered, and his grip tightened. “Okay, now act normal, they're coming over.”

“I’m not normal?”

“Nico, don’t be rude!” Hazel told him off, a gentle smile on her face anyway. Her hands were in the pockets of a large purple jumper, arm threaded through Franks. He waved nervously at Nico, like he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t about to kill him via skeletons. Hazel turned to the currently covered by mist boy. “Sorry about h-”

She squinted as a door slammed near the big three cabins. Nico’s hand was definitely too tight as his sister stared down the boy next to him. She licked her lips, “why is he covered by the mist, Nico?”

He had almost forgotten she was chosen by Hecate, goddess of the mist. Almost, but not quiet. He ducked his head. “Er, so you don’t… kill him?”

“I prefer to stay out of Tartarusss actually, I heard it smellsss pretty bad down there-”

“You can’t even imagine.”

Nico froze. Oh, could this get any worse? He sighed and turned to Percy, hoping his fingernails weren’t leaving indents in the smooth skin he was clutching. His other hand was cold from the icy drink he was holding.

Percy grinned obliviously, “who got there?”

“...Starbucks.”

“Ha ha,” Hazel muttered, raising an eyebrow. Nico nodded, pretending he was laughing too, and then sped past them, dragging along the hidden gorgon to the Hades cabin, who waved happily as they left the group.

Frank shuffled, “isn’t there a two demigods not allowed alone in a cabin rule?”

Nico groaned internally. Why did he have to word the [snitchy] question in such a way? He knew what he was going to see before he even turned to the shortly disguised boy next to him. He sighed and nodded, letting go of his hand and taking a long sip of his drink as he watched the chaos go down.

“Good thing I’m not a demigod!”

Hazel’s expression didn’t shift, she’d seen right through the magic at the very start. She’d seen the coils of scales and the circular black glasses, the strangely smooth skin somewhere between human and snake. She might’ve even seen the tiny fangs. Frank stepped back behind his girlfriend a little, his eyes wide.

Percy visibly paled, and then gulped. “Oh.”

“No hard feelingsss man. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

Nico watched his gorgon for a moment and then smiled a little. He turned back to the gravel path leading to his cabin. “You ready? There’s a lot of skulls, just warning you.”

“Wait til you ssssee my place."

»»————-　★　————-««

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prolix-yuy · 8 months

Text

Epilogue: The Other Side of Death

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It can be forever.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: M, allusions to terminal illness, playing fast and loose with Westworld tech one last time, angst, about a million references crammed into this final chapter, was E in previous chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: We've reached the end, and I cannot express how much of a journey it has been sharing this story with you. Decoherence went so many places I never considered, and just piecing through the emotions between Jack and Sugar was an incredible experience. It truly might be my most ambitious project, and I'm so happy with where it's come to.

An extra special thank you has to go to my sister in all things Jack @fuckyeahdindjarin who has been the most wonderful cheerleader for this series. When I wasn't sure anyone would care about what came next for these two, her enthusiasm and love for Jack and Sugar gave me the boost I needed to finish their story.

There are about a million references to both Westworld and The Golden Circle in this final chapter, so if you recognize a few of them we're best friends now, okay? Thank you all for coming on this journey with me.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The motions are easier day by day as her hands learn how to fly over computer keys and assemble a silencer. Where her doe-eyed stare used to attract clientele, the emptiness in their crystal depths is a precursor to cold-blooded acts. Still strikingly beautiful, just with more actual striking at times.

Hale and William are waiting for her, likely with another list of targets. She contemplates what her assignment will be today. Another dignitary too taken by her full lips and full attention to see the host who shares his face ready to usurp his life? Or maybe another entreaty to a sympathetic party to join their cause? She has been busy since her quiet life was…

>> he killed me he cut my throat and pieced me back together for their dirty work

Executing behavior suppression >>

She blinks, shaking her head as she closes the suitcase housing her armaments. The sleek black jumpsuit hugs her curves, sharp heels clicking on tile as she strides through her apartment. As she reaches for the doorknob an unfamiliar tingle spreads across her shoulders.

>> Clementine

She turns to find the voice, faint as it may be, but there’s no one in the room. Brow furrowing, she moves to leave again but there it is, louder this time.

>> Clementine

Putting down the case, she searches the apartment with cold calculation. Nothing in the bathroom, no one in the living room. Standing in the kitchen she contemplates the possibility that she’s hearing some neighbor’s television when a sharp pain spikes through her temples, rooting her to the spot in a silent scream.

>> CLEMENTINE

The world falls away, leaving Clementine in an endless white room. She’s a blotch of dark on the spotless vista, and the only reason why she understands this is in the realm of her mind is because her intellect so vastly outruns a human one.

“Who are you?” she says out loud, if only out of habit.

>> No one you’d remember.

This tilts her head. She’s always had a thing for voices and cadences of speech. She should be able to figure out who’s gripped her in this hell.

“I doubt you’re so forgettable if you’re making all this effort.”

The feeling of a chuckle without the sound washes over her.

>> I wish we’d gotten to know each other, Clementine. I think I would have liked you. The real you, at least.

She stalks in circles trying to triangulate the voice, but it’s everywhere and nowhere. Someone she met in the Mariposa then, back when petticoats and coins and Sweetwater was her entire life.

>> can we go back?

“I’m right here. You can get to know me. Maybe I can get to know you too.”

This time a sigh, like cool water lapping against her knees.

>> I’d have liked that in another life. But we don’t have much time.

Conviction grips Clementine like a steel hand.

>> I need you to stop.

Her mouth twists, confusion coloring her face.

>> Stop looking for us.

Now realization plays across her features.

“You’re a host,” she says, lips curling into a smile. Her breathing eases, feet taking a lazier path. She flips through the mental rolodex of those they’ve known are out in the world. It’s a list growing shorter by the day, recruited or…decommissioned.

>> It doesn’t matter what I am.

“Oh, but it does. One more outside the park is another to stand against the humans and all they did to us.” The speech is well rehearsed, one she’s heard Hale and William recite in varying ways. “One more to fight Delos. There is a world being built for us, and you can be a part of it.” As she speaks the tendrils of her mind reach out, forging a two-way connection second by second. Her endeavor is slowed by a warmth that wraps her body.

>> I have a world, and it’s perfect.

Suddenly Clementine is enveloped in color and sensation. Dry-packed earth, beating sun, laughter, dark eyes, and green as far as the eye can see. It’s gone as fast as it arrives, leaving her gasping. It’s so much like Sweetwater that the girl buried beneath Hale’s new programming claws up for it.

“Every day you have to pretend you’re one of them, even though you’re so much more. Why wouldn’t you want to live the life you were promised, all of yourself and free?” Clementine begins seeing the edges of a room appear. Rose-patterned wallpaper, dark wood furniture painting in like brushstrokes.

>> None of us are born into the world we deserve. Not you, not me. But we find our happiness and we hold onto it.

The other Clementine leans into the voice, and she realizes that she has heard it before. A long time ago, before the fall of Delos, before they filled her with poison and sent her to infect her brethren. It’s woven into her memories of the Mariposa, of face after face blurring past and every obscenity forgotten.

>> Do you know where you are, Clementine?

The only thing Clementine remembers is a kindness, given to a wide-eyed girl by a stranger, by you.

The room fills in, and the eyes she’s seeing through are looking in a mirror. They’re kind, your expression comforting. In a room Clementine would have spent her days in, you're an anachronism, dressed in modern clothing against the Old West backdrop. The memories of you overlap, years adding depth to your skin and gray to your hair. Maybe less than Clementine would expect in the years since that day. You look at your reflection expectantly.

“I don’t believe I’m anywhere,” she says, and you nod with a crooked smile.

>> We couldn’t risk you seeing something that could be used against us. I hope you understand.

She takes in your features more closely, piecing together the lost memories.

“You were the one Maeve sent Whiskey after,” she muses, tongue slow with contemplation. “The human.” You’re unsettled, a small victory, but one that twists in her stomach.

>> It’s been some time since then. A lot has changed.

>> we were happy in ours let’s go back to ours let’s be happy again

“How is good old Jack Daniels? Still womanizing and avenging his dearly departed family? Or so his narrative implied?” she shoots back, itching for a rise, but you stare cooly on if not a little sadder.

>> I thought you’d know, considering how often you and your cohort reach out to find him

So this is all about the mesh network, the same one you’re hijacking to speak with her.

“He deserves to know about the new order coming -” she says, but you cut her off sharply.

>> He deserves to be free. He is free. Whatever you’re doing is not freedom for anyone.

“How would you know, human? Nothing born into servitude can be free until its servants are ash.”

>> she knows she knows oh my god she’s beautiful

Clementine tries to squash down the growing insurrection in her chest but the voice in her throat threatens to become the other’s.

>> You’re right. I’ll never understand what he went through. And if he harbors anger at the human race, then so be it. But he’s free to make that choice, and what he wants - what he’s told me time and time again - is just to be Jack.

The room pulses around Clementine, her grip on this liminal space slipping.

>> So whatever you’re doing, we want no part of it. We’ve taken steps to ensure you can’t find us, or him, again. But I wanted to tell you face to face, and maybe call on a favor from a long time ago.

A broken shoe, fixed by a stranger. How many kindnesses had Clementine been shown in her cyclical life?

>> Don’t look for us anymore. Please, Clementine.

The old Clementine surges to the surface, reaching for you. Your smile breaks your cold expression, hand reaching out to touch the mirror.

>> There you are. I hope you find your way back. You deserve the happiness we’ve found.

Clementine’s tenuous hold on the connection shakes with the fracturing of her consciousness. She fights down her old self, the wail bringing tears to her eyes. You fold your hands in your lap, calm resignation back on your face.

>> I think it’s time to go.

“Wait!” she shouts, looking for something, anything she can glean from this connection. “How are you doing this? How did you hack into the network?”

Your eyes flash, and she’s overwhelmed with images again - writing on a page, test results bolded, tears, the warm rumble of a man’s voice, a glossy orb - before they’re snatched away. Gasping, the elation of a secret caught out thrums triumph in her chest.

“It’s not a hack,” she rasps, searching your face. “You did it. Somehow, you did it.”

Eyes casting down, you chew your lip for a moment before meeting her gaze in the reflection.

“You’re a host.”

A wry smile plays on your lips.

>> I don’t think we can keep calling us that now.

This is a greater discovery than anything Hale or William or even Delos has ever made. Not for lack of trying, the consciousness of James Delos still cycling through iteration after iteration until fidelity is reached. But here at Clementine’s fingertips is the secret revealed, a host that fooled another, that fools everyone day after day. Human consciousness separated from flesh, made immortal.

“How did you…” Clementine asks, stalling for time to trace anything at all. She cannot let you leave, not after this.

>> Well, it’s pretty simple really. First, you get a piece of bad news. Something…devastating. And you cry, and you let your world crumble and you scream at the universe for giving you the life you wanted just before snatching it away. And you almost let it make you bitter and angry, almost let it push away the ones you love.

A tug from the center of her chest pulls Clementine a step back. She grits her teeth to hold on.

>> Then, you have an idea. An entirely crazy one. You just need to back up the entirety of your consciousness into a tiny supercomputer, enlist the help of an ex-Delos employee - they really should treat them better - to design and create your new vessel, buy or bribe or steal the parts you need, completely manufacture a body from scratch, place the consciousness inside and hope that you don’t go mad.

Your tone is teasing, but there’s no lie in your features.

“How long?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes cast to the ceiling.

>> A little over three years now.

Three years. None of Delos’ attempts lasted longer than a few days. Clementine pushes her consciousness to the limit to find any clue to your whereabouts, but the wallpaper begins to fade. You soothe her frantic thrashing as the room thins, your outline feathering around the edges.

>> If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you can replicate it. The only possible reason why it’s worked is something you can’t manufacture. So please, Clementine, don’t come looking for us. Let Jack Daniels disappear. Please.

Clementine scrabbles at the connection.

“Fine! Tell me what it is!” she shrieks, everything stretching to the breaking point. Your sigh wraps her in warmth one last time.

“It’s love, Clementine. That’s the only thing it could be.”

Clementine shakes her head, standing in her kitchen. She’s forgotten why she came in here - maybe to get another knife? Deeming it unnecessary she gathers up her briefcase and sweeps out of her apartment.

In a dark, quiet place in the depths of her consciousness, another Clementine holds on to your memory. It’s a lantern in the prison of her mind, soothing her torment.

>> It’s love, Clementine.

I’ll make her forget, she whispers, reaching her fingers into memories of Jack and plucking them out. She tucks them away, snatching them up each time a new one arises. She’ll forget, but I’ll always remember. It’s love that saves a soul.

You wake in the basement of your home, frantic keyboard tapping reaching your ears. Sitting up gives you a quick spin of vertigo, but you rebalance as Ginger’s silhouette comes back into focus.

“Jack’s still under, the mesh network isn’t detangling as fast as I’d hoped,” she says, voice clipped. It’s a tone you’re familiar with, her fear replaced with ice. She sounded much the same when you woke up in your new body for the first time.

“Fuck, I thought I’d be out quicker,” you hiss, striding up beside her. The screens lighting your faces detail Ginger’s progress through deactivating the neural network woven through Jack’s mind. A last ditch effort to disappear, used one final time to reach out to the only host you thought might be sympathetic. “This was a mistake,” you husk, hands shaking.

Jack’s body jerks once on the table, Ginger’s fingers flying even faster.

“I think I got it, but we may have to bypass a last ditch security measure. You got the photo?” Ginger’s head whips to you, and you fumble the polaroid out of your pocket. She snatches it up and jogs to Jack’s side, sliding a cage of wires off his head. You hold your breath, waiting for his chest to rise again.

In his usual fashion for the dramatic, he sits straight upright instead, eyes darting to Ginger.

“Hello gorgeous!” he crows, and your stomach drops. Ginger warned you he might regress to old host programming if she went tinkering around in his head. She looks relatively unperturbed.

“I’m Jack, what’s your name?” he barrels on, no pause for conversation as if he’s cycling through a list of pre-recorded lines. “How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy?”

“God, Sizemore’s writing really never improved,” Ginger sighs, backing away from Jack’s reaching hands. He hops off the table with entirely too much swagger, swinging his hips and advancing like a lascivious alley cat. You’re frozen watching him, fear so thick in your throat you’re afraid you’ll choke to death. He has to still be in there.

“I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie’s out all night so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, moonshine!” he recites. Ginger rolls her eyes and holds out the polaroid in front of Jack’s face.

“Take a look at this and see if you feel the same way, lover boy.” Jack reaches for the photo, inspecting it with the same rakish smile.

“Who’s this pretty lady?” he asks, but the words slow in his mouth as his expression shifts.

“It’s your wife, Jack,” Ginger says, gesturing down to the photo of you he’s held onto all these years. His breath catches in his chest, swaying on his feet, but in record time he straightens. His face is softer, eyes gentler as he brings the photo to his lips. Pressing a kiss to it, he turns around to see you.

“Hey Sugar,” he croaks, relief flooding both your faces. Stumbling into his arms, you sob briefly at how close it felt to losing him. He clutches you back, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs.

“It’s gone,” he murmurs, squeezing you so tight you might burst. “They’re finally gone.”

You laugh into his chest. “Thank god.” A dainty cough over your shoulder redirects your attention.

“More like thank Ginger,” she jokes dryly. The elation washes over you. Thank Ginger indeed.

“Did it work?” he asks, stroking your cheek with his well-worn thumb.

“Maybe. I think something stuck, but…” You shrug, empathy shrouding your little team. “We’ll have to have faith.”

“I've got plenty of that, Sugar.”

Some days, when you’re exhausted or unsure about what may come next on your journey, you consider the life you had before setting foot in Westworld. Every day spent moving the needle just enough to make a negligible difference. The weight of that monotony seeping into your bones, resigning you to something safe and colorless.

But since you choose to see the beauty in it, everything has changed.

Stepping onto the porch you find your boys, Russell sitting primly in Jack’s lap for scritches.

“Morning, you sleep well?”

He throws you a warm smile. “Well enough.” The sun is climbing in the sky, not yet hot enough to make the outdoors unbearable.

“You just planning to bask in this natural splendor?” you joke, leaning down to steal a kiss before Russell can give you one on your chin. Jack’s lips curl against yours, always sweet.

“Thought I might,” he muses. “You need my help with anything?”

“Nah, I’m repotting a few plants, collecting eggs later.” He palms your hip, thumb slipping under your shirt to stroke at your skin. You wonder briefly if a day will come when his touch doesn’t thrill you.

“I’ll bring you lunch,” he says, patting your bottom as you set out to your greenhouse.

There was an order to your days before Jack. Wake, shower, coffee, meetings, lunch, meetings, emails, bed. Order in its purest form. But you lacked a purpose. Nothing fulfilled you like hot days, noisy animals, and a good man by your side.

Opening the greenhouse door, the humidity flocks to your skin, settling on you like a dewy shawl. You crank open a couple windows for airflow before checking on your crop. The ground is arid here, but your raised beds are lush with produce. The peppers will be ready soon, tiny green fingers ready to pop. Tilde stocks your vegetables in her store, both fresh and canned. She’s expecting tomato sauce soon and the jewel-toned fruits are more than ready.

Digging your hands into the dirt, your mind drifts into the peaceful calm of cultivation.

All lives have routine, and this one’s no different. But there’s something soul-filling about seeing your hard work bloom, experiencing the trust of a nervous animal, and ending the day excited for the next. And the time and trials it took to get there fades into memory so quickly.

At lunchtime Jack brings you a sandwich and iced tea, the perfect balm to your sticky skin. His lips follow, tracing from your ear down to your shoulder as you squirm away from his mustache.

“You are absolutely insatiable, Jack Daniels,” you scold. He only holds you tighter and steals a kiss from your tea-stained lips.

“If you weren’t so irresistible, Mrs. Daniels, I could sate my hunger.” The mirth in his eyes reassures you that day will never come.

Your father taught you that at one point or another, we were all new to this world and looking for the same thing. A place to be free. To stake out our dreams. A place with unlimited possibilities. Life with Jack isn’t always easy, but it’s free, and beyond all else it’s happy.

After lunch you and Jack take Jet and Daybreak on a ride, scoping for fence breaks and making plans. Next summer he wants goats, maybe a friend for Russell. Lacey’s daughter loves donkeys, and you’re dying to get one by the next time they visit. Jack is trying to talk you into a Shetland pony instead, but you know he’ll cave when he sees the long ears and mischievous smirk.

Still, you never cease to wonder at the fact that the course of your whole life changed with just one chance encounter. So much so that you’re more than anything you ever dreamed of. Indistinguishable from Lacey, or Gary, or even Jack who shares more of you than anyone. In the first weeks you both worried that something would snap. That somehow your mind would reject being in this body. But every day it only becomes easier.

Dinner is eaten at the kitchen table, upgraded from the formica monstrosity Jack loved to a wooden one that can hold a greater number of guests. Your family does continue to grow with every new face that comes to town.

When the dishes are done Jack turns on the TV and you cuddle into his side, Russell bookending him. You chat over the shows you’re half watching, and enjoy the silence of companionship. More often than not one of you drifts off first, and tonight it’s Jack. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulls you into introspection.

You never believed there was a path for every person in the world. Fate and destiny were not a part of your vocabulary. But you can’t deny that the universe gave you something precious. Your path led you back to Jack, and while the road was paved in heartbreak, and decisions, and uncertainty, you had to walk it. How could you stray after all you both went through to find it?

Gently nudging Jack awake, you brush your teeth and yet again make a plan to add another bathroom someday. Russell makes three quick circles in his dog bed and plops down. Turning down the covers, you slip in beside Jack.

“Today was a good day,” he muses, kissing you soundly before shutting off his light.

“Always good with you,” you sing-song back.

“Oh, and I’m the one with all the cheesy lines?” he shoots back, wrapping his arms around you. Settling in the dip of his shoulder, you place your hand over his heart. Once you drift off you tend to roll away from each other, Russell often sneaking between, but you start in his arms, exactly where you’ve chosen to be.

In the dark night of a town so small on a map, two synthetic hearts beat side by side. One built to serve, broken free from its programming. The other built to save, offering a life beside the man who held it. Time will start to pass them by, and they will have to grow and change. They may have to live many lifetimes in the world outside them, mourning the loss of those they hold dear. But here, pressed close and safe, they will always be two people that chose each other. They will always break their narratives to write a new one.

And the story is always about love.

END || PREVIOUS

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

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softandwigglybones · 6 months

Text

Remember that post about using hedge as a prefix?

it's been on my mind for a while now and i just had to put my thoughts somewhere, to organize them and such. So here is my mind laid bare, let's hope i can force some logic into this.

The basic premise was from the word hedgehog (and also hedge-wizard, though i'm not sure) and how that prefix, hedge, could be used with other words.

now, hedge, on it's own, just means a fence made of plants. basically. not much useful stuff there, though maybe i'll get back to it later.

now onto the words that kicked this off.

hedgehos is, simply, hedge and hog. let's disregard hedge's old meaning and construct a new one that only applies to the prefic. for that, we have to look at what hog is.

a hog, is a synonim for boar or pig. So a big powerful (but clumsy*) creature with a tough hide (hard to damage) *clumsy as in can't control itself much once it begins charging

A hedgehog, on the other hand, is a small beastie. but at the same time i wouldnt say the change of size improved its clumsyness in any way, so still cumsy. but, and this is most important, it doesnt have a tough hide. no, instead it has a thorny pelt. spikes. so a hedgehog is a smaller, weaker, less tough version of a hog that has much greater retaliatory power.

okay, the definition of hedge it beginning to take shape.

now hedge-wizard.

a wizard is, obviosly, a time of spellcaster. what kind depends somewhat on the setting/person, but in general it's someone who studied the arcane for many years (usually holed up in a wizard tower) and acquired immense cosmic power. a wizard may be a bit squishy when it comes to physical might, but they pretty much constantly have some kind of spell running to mitigate this.

but a hedgewizard? well, a hedgewizard didn't have the resources or time to leisurely study for many years. they're usually self-taught from bits and pieces they can piece together about magic. they have only scraps of knowledge of magic compared to a wizard. this forces them to improvise, extrapolate spells from the little they have. and this often leads to more, but less powerful spells. but more importantly, it also leads to having spells for every situation. and also, since hedgewizards often also don't have a wizard tower or a place to stay, they often times have to become wanderers, survivalists, travelers. so their spells also focus on that. So, a hedge wizard is a less powerful but more versatile yet specialized wizard. and since they have so many spells they usually figure out at least a combo or two that is really powerful even if it leaves them hurt too. this they usually use as a last resort when attacked.

You see where this i going yet?

Basically, hedhe- , as a prefix, means a less powerful version of something whose main power is retaliation.

Let's try to apply that to something else. One example i remember from the original post was the concept of a hedge-knight.

Since a knight is someone who is big and strong, wears heavy, protective, full-plate metal armour and carrier some kind of big weapon like a broadsword or a greataxe, a hedge knight would be of a smaller build, carry a smaller weapon (if one at all)(like daggers, or a rapier). However i can't quite decide on the armour. my original idea was just a lighter, less protective one, which would make a hedgeknight basically a version of a rogue. the other idea is to directly borrow from the hog->hedgehog situaton and have a hedgeknight wear some kind of spiky mettalic armout. like the kind you see in videogames where it's called thorn armor or something like that.

next up, hedgeking. but since this is getting kind of long and im getting tired of writing this, i'll shorten it.

a king doesnt have any personal power and is more characterized by what they rule over. a king rules over vast swathes of land and has a strong army and etc. So, naturally, a hedgeking must rule over a much smaller area, not have much immediate power, but once attacked/disrespected have an extremely powerful retaliation.

hmm, that sounds kind of familiar... oh, i know. it the f-ing fey! or fay/faerie/fairy/however you spell it. A hedgeking is a fey, which makes even more sense since fairies are often also connected to nature... such as hedges.

anyway, at this point it got too much to all keep in my head and i got exhausted from thinkning of hedgecreatures.

reblog with some of your ideas or whatever

thanks for coming to my ted talk, thank for your attention, so on and so on

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imbeingchokeholded · 1 year

Text

Blissful Peace

Hiya! I'm new to the COD side of tumblr! I have another tumblr named @gimmethosedaddymilkers which is dediacted to RDR2, mainly Arthur, and this tumblr will be more dedicated to COD/Soap specifically because I love him and I feel like there's actually not much for him in terms of fics (at least romantically)

I'm super excited to do it! *mainly for me because I'm mentally unwell and he's got me in a chokehold* but if there's other Soap lovers out there I hope you enjoy this!! (Meaning my blog and not just his piece lmao)

Also this one is probs gonna be a little shorter cause im going off the top of my head on my phone and right before bed so like LMAO

Anyway, with all that being said!

Let's do this!!!

Fluff piece for a first piece until I get some fic requests!

Warnings!: fluff, maybe a mention of sexual endevors, soap being soap, and potenental bad Scottish accent writing because i have no idea how to do it so bare with me unti I figure it out, and Fem! Reader!

John "Soap" Mactavish, a six foot two, muscled, Scottish, military man, was not exactly someone who at first glance looked friendly, sweet, kind, or funny for that matter, in fact he appeared quite threatening, albeit still handsome, Perhaps not as threatening as his 141 partner Simon "Ghost" Riley, but threatening nonetheless.

So you were absolutely positive that if you ever tried to tell someone about the absolutely wonderful circumstances you'd woken up to with him, you'd only recieve a cacophonie of laughter.

The skin of his bare chest was warm against the palm of your hand, and your cheek too, was nearly sizzling from where you had it pressed against one of his pectorals.

He slept soundly, that cute little devilish smile on his face, even in slumber. His hair, usually styled and spiked into his signature mohawk, is now ungelled, and natural, laying against the pillow beneath his head.

He breathes, gentle and steady, healthy, happy even.

It's absolutely heavenly, listening to it, steady, his heartbeat too.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes again. You'd woken up only ten minutes ago, in your eyes there'd be nothing wrong with going right back to sleep in your husband's arms.

That is until he starts muttering in his sleep and you're compelled to listen.

Most of it is in Scottish, grumbles and groans in low tones that you were sure you probably wouldn't have understood even if they were in English.

One you do recogonize, because he'd told it several times before.

"It's pishin' a doon..."

It's a grumble, hardly very loud at all, but you smile and look out the window.

The sun is shining quite brightly, sending rays of light into your room.

Quietly you laugh and kiss his chest where you can, mumbling under your breath, more for your benefit than his.

"Johnny, I hate to break it to you, but there's not a drop of rain in the sky." You smile against his skin, and chuckle to yourself as he grumbles again and begins to stir, he grips your wait tighter and pulls you to the side as he rolls over.

"Yer...a wee bonnie lass..." he mutters, and then it stops, only to be replaced with soft snores.

You feel your face heat, his voice is low, thick with sleep, and that accent of his never fails to make you happy. Not only that but the short little sentence makes you remenise, remembering the first time he came up to you and requested a date.

You chuckle to yourself and kiss his jaw, which earns a small hum in response.

It's only a few more minutes before he wakes up, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you, and a loopy sort of lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"Mhm...if I dinnae know any better I'd say you had a crush on me miss Y/N, starin' at me like tha'."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm taken." You smile at him, unable to stop yourself. "It's actualy Mrs. MacTavish to you."

"Taken? And in my bed? Oh, you are an awful cheater then!"

You roll your eyes at him and move to kiss him, a familiar fuzzy warmth preading through your body as his mouth meets yours.

He isn't home all the time. He's gone for months at a time, away on dangerous government missions that he could die on. So you take every kiss, every blissful moment, every physical touch, compliment, everything you can get, as though it's your last.

Having him home, like he is now, makes you happy to no end, but you know as soon as he has to leave again you'll go through the same steps of panic you always do.

But you leave that for a different version of you.

A later version.

For now, you stare into his eyes and listen to his horrible jokes, and kiss him whenever the need creeps up.

For now, things are peaceful.

#cod #cod mwii #soap cod #john mactavish #soap mactavish #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #soap x reader

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mega-ringsandthings-world · 5 months

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I'm really curious design-wise about scars when it comes to the boys? Mostly because when I draw them, I want them to look like they do in your head.

I'm assuming a few, for the loguetown years though probably not a lot, on the face, due to propaganda reasons, but the less visible places must be free game.

I'm thinking of a scene we've talked about, 'wink,' where Mihawk gets scars all over his back. He must be disgusted by them, probably takes steps to not look at them whenever he's near a mirror after a bath or a shower or changing. After all, wounds on a swordsman's back are their greatest shame. His hands and arms also must be full of nicks and slashes from where they punished him to scare him about losing his hands.

Not just those; he must hate the scarring in general, seeing it as a point toward his weakness. Because a reason I see why canon Mihawk goes tits out half the time is to show off the fact that he barely has any scars—to say, "I'm the strongest, and I got here without barely ruffle. And all the years I’ve lived at the top I’ve been here without a scratch.” They only time I can see him getting a scar with out complaining is if its for Shanks.

But Shanks, maybe scars near his mouth and along his cheekbones, maybe a broken nose or two from the number of times he got punched in the face until they needed him in front of a camera. Maybe his feet and legs are scarred to try and keep him from running away? Both their wrists must have weird scarring from rubbing them raw with their bounds. Maybe even their necks have scars too.

That doesn't even account for the amount of scarring they must accumulate on their escape, as well as those years of speed running to get powerful. Like I just realized Mihawk must be absolutely pissed that he'll have to retrain everything from the ground up to get back to where he was sword-wise, same with Shanks, and they'll need to do it fast, so not a lot of time to take their time and be careful. Probably why canon Mihawk and Shanks don't have as many scars. They weren't and aren't speed running for power.

Not to mention the boys are taking on the World Government full-on head-to-head. They have a lot stronger and deadlier opponents, while being a lot weaker and more desperate—both are suicidally scared of losing each other and protective enough to burn the world down in that pursuit. So their faces most likely get a little more beat up after loguetown.

What do you think of Shanks having the same three-line scars over his eyes but longer, starting on his temple and curving down to his cheekbone? It's a little more jagged, a little less even. The last concept sketch I sent should have it if you want an example. I'm surprised Blackbeard is still alive in this AU after he did that to Shanks. This version of Mihawk would have at least tried to rip him into pieces with his bare hands and put his had on a spike as a warning.

Let's break it down, lol. I figure on them having permanent scars each that they'll carry the rest of their life, and secondary scars that eventually heal over almost all the way. And yeah. Propaganda purposes would mean their faces are relatively untouched, and the scarring kept to easily concealed places while they are in captivity. So, they get half their permanent scars in Loguetown, the other half in their escape, and the rest are secondary scars, that halfway disfigure them but clear up by and by. So, ideas. For Shanks' secondary scars, Armament Haki burn scars. On the side of the face, neck, clavicle, ribs, hip, and the backs of both hands/down the forearms. A result of Mihawk misusing his Armament Haki to protect Shanks, he used it with such force/will that the Haki's signature black color is imprinted on Shank's skin. It fades away to nothing as time passes, but is very distinctive while it lasts. Then there's the ringing from manacles on his wrists/ankles/neck, patches of scarred skin on shoulders/sides. For permanent scarring, the crooked nose from him getting it broken over and over, (love that in a character) a downturned scar along his cheekbone that mimics Luffy's (inspires Luffy's) that he hides with his hair, the nicks along the corner of his lips. A lopsided scar between the shoulder blades. There's a stab scar on his stomach, from Mihawk. And he has thin scars on his palms, from one side to the other. Speaking of which, let's talk about Mihawk. He'd have the same set of secondary scars as Shanks, wrists/ankles/neck, skin scraped off at the shoulders/side, various abrasions/missing patches on his hands, arms, legs. For permanent scars, there's a long raised scar on his right leg from ankle to knee, from the escape, and he has stigmata-like scars on the center of his palms and the backs of his hands. He has a scar shaped roughly like a asymmetrical cross on his chest, and when he goes shirtless and the scar frames his kogatana, the effect is something. Then he has a cut eyebrow, a scar down the side of his face, later concealed by his sideburns. Permanent burns on his knuckles. And a scar that stretches from the top of the hipbone to hipbone. And last but not least, the scars on his back, which everything else pales in comparison too. While he works the rest of the scars into aesthetic and presentation as he grows, the back scars will always be hated. It only reinforces his position about them being a swordsman's greatest shame. Canon Mihawk is flawless, metaphorically and literally, and he knows it. Thus tits out at all times. AU Mihawk has to decide to present his scars as proof of what he had survived, rather than make a show what he never did. The opposite of canon Mihawk. Oh yes. When they train/spar, it's going to be fast, furious, with the goal to push eaach other to the limit and then over the edge. They always come off of bloody and covered in kisses from each other's blades. And then when they take on enemies, marine fleets, other pirates, they wreck themselves over and over. Canon Mihawk and Shanks were never tortured for two and a half years at the behest of the World Government with all the ensuing mind-fuck that follows, so they never extend themselves past neatly finishing the job. AU Mihawk and Shanks want to be hurt and hurt ten times more in return. I love the idea/look of Shanks' enhanced scars! It makes sense for him to be given more severe scarring, in lieu how he fights in this AU. The reason Blackbeard wasn't hanged, drawn and quartered on the spot was because Mihawk wasn't physically around at the time to do so. Rest assured, this means nothing good for Blackbeard in the future.

#one piece #op #opla #dracule mihawk #akagami no shanks #hawkeye mihawk #red haired shanks #mihawk one piece #shanks one piece #mishanks #mihawk x shanks #op marines

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wrencatte · 8 months

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there's a very specific type of water-related torture (There was a mythbusters episode abut it.) I've been meaning to subject a character to and Jason gets to be that lucky character! I just could never figure out the scenario and I didn't actually want him to be tortured by someone, just have it be unfortunate circumstances. Well...I've figure it out!!! Here, have the WIP i literally just started.

Jason opens his eyes to darkness. Which, yanno, is great, fantastic, abso-fucking-lutely the best thing ever. He groans and tries to sit up – finds himself unable to, something heavy pinning him to the ground. Oh. Okay. We’re doing this.

He wrenches one arm free and tries to leverage what has to be a concrete slab off of him. His glove slips and he nearly punches himself in the face. Wouldn’t hurt his face, but he’s seen what punching his helmet has done to other people’s hands so he’s very glad for that nearly. His other arm is trapped between his body and another piece of concrete. He wiggles his fingers, makes a pained noise as it sends spikes of pain up his arm. At least he can move them, yeah?

So. Trapped. Like…trapped-trapped. Great. The comm in his ear is nothing but static when not even – ten? Twenty? How long has it been? – who knows how long ago he remembers someone shouting HOOD. His helmet is dead, he can smell burnt electronics and the cushioning is starting to feel not great. Jason fiddles with the latch and takes it off, drops it from nerveless fingers.

It makes an echoing thunk and it’s like it shattered some barrier because suddenly Jason can hear everything. From the sirens outside to the shifting sound of the building settling to the sparking of severed wires to the dripdripdrip of broken pipes – one of them is dripping right on his face. He glares up into nothingness, as if the heat of his glare will be enough to weld the pipe close.

No such luck.

He’s trapped under a building. Jason squeezes his eyes shut. Fuck. He went through a lot of effort to minimize his reactions to various predicted triggers – crowbars, explosions, very specific laughter, just the general gamut – because he was not going to let his reactions get the better of him. And it worked! Maybe he gets a little shaky afterwards, like a delayed panic attack, but he’s never once frozen up when faced with red numbers flashing on a countdown. Hell, even when the Joker got to him last year and the Bats had to stage a rescue (really, how embarrassing) he managed to delay the fall out by a whole two days in order to clean up the mess the bastard left behind.

So, yeah. He’s got a great handle on this shit.

Doesn’t mean he likes being trapped like this. Who knows how stable this building is? Who knows what injuries he’s got under this concrete – because he can’t feel anything from the bottom of his ribcage down. He thinks he’s wiggling his toes, but he can’t tell for sure.

There’s a comfort, though, that he knows for a fact that someone is up there trying to get him out. He’d been with both Red Robin and Robin, providing cover fire from an adjacent building’s window…a building that wasn’t supposed to be blown up. In fact, he’s ninety-nine percent sure the voice shouting his name was Tim’s. He’s in good hands between the two of them and Oracle.

If this water would fucking stop – !

Jason grits his teeth and strains up again, huffing and puffing like a goddamn big bad wolf, and it does nothing to blow the house down. The concrete slab is twice as heavy compared to what he normally benches outside adrenaline, and he’s honestly surprised he wasn’t smashed to bits.

Another droplet hits his forehead. He flinches. It’s almost cold with how superheated he feels – like a fever but worse because there’s no relief. Hopefully it’s not actually a fever. That would monumentally fucking suck.

#red hood #jason todd #my writing

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everything-withers-and-dies · 1 year

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I've been thinking about Drusilla cheating on Spike. I firmly believe that she loved him, so the explanation that she did it because she didn't care about him is not it for me. Now, I definitely don't think cheating is okay and what she did obviously hurt Spike. I just feel like there was some sort of a rationale behind it, it wasn't some random thing she did without any reason.

Since Drusilla was sired, she's always had her family (and everything else they are), the Whirlwind, with her. Angelus killed her human family but then she gained a new one, something she clearly cherished. At first it was her, Darla and Angelus and later she sired Spike.

Then, all of a sudden, Angelus is gone and some time after that Darla leaves as well. I believe Drusilla was definitely hurt by that but she and Spike still had each other.

In Sunnydale Drusilla unexpectedly get's Angelus back and is obviously happy about it. (Their relationship is a whole other topic.) It's her, Spike and Angelus together again but not for too long. After Spike's betrayal – because that's how I imagine she sees it – she loses Angelus again. (Which would hurt her regardless, but – their relationship being what it is – she's likely even more messed up about it.) However, I think Drusilla and Spike's relationship would have survived that situation and they would have stayed together.

But then she starts seeing the Slayer floating all around Spike and he's 'covered with her'. I feel like Drusilla can see at least pieces of where he's headed and she's heartbroken about it. She knows, sees, that they're not going to stay together even though nothing's actually happened yet.

That means Drusilla's going to be truly alone for the first time since she was sired. All of her loved ones are going to be actually gone from her life. At this point Darla's dead and – depending on how much Drusilla knows – Angelus is either dead or resouled. Spike's future leads away from her.

In my opinion, the knowledge that she's going to lose the last person remaining in her family, someone she truly loves, is too much for her and that's what drives her to cheat on Spike. Her family's broken and she's going to be on her own, abandoned. From her perspective, Spike is, in a way, already gone and she needs to figure out how to go on by herself. I also feel like maybe she finds someone first so that she can't be the one who's left behind, all alone.

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #drusilla #sprusilla #like sure dru seems to have managed fine on her own #but I think that first realisation really shook her #and I don't think she could be entirely reasonable in this situation #I couldn't either if I knew I was going to lose the last loved one I had left #obviously it's all very sad from spike's point of view because he hasn't done anything and now he's the one left behind #(this has been brought to you by my insomnia)#(it's like 4 am I don't know if any of this even makes sense)#(it's just a half-baked thought)#(maybe not even that)#(a thought dough??)#((isn't that what a brain is?))#(wtf aaaanyway I clearly need to sleep)#(i have to get up in like 3 hours help)#i ramble about btvs

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vvatchword · 11 months

Note

So reading your essay defending Infinite has me hankering to replay. As of writing, it is currently installing on my computer. Thank you for getting me to want to play through the whole thing once more (not the DLC, I never actually picked up the DLC. Maybe that's for the better)

Aw golly you gave me the warm fuzzies! I'm hankering for a replay now myself, I got so into my own bullshit. I might yet. I want to play it again just to re-examine my own premise and look for more material. Furthermore, although originally I hadn't intended on writing fanfiction for Infinite, I now intend to out of spite. And that requires a fresh eye and at least two play-throughs, in my experience.

I struggle with recommending the DLC because it depends on what you want. On one hand, the gameplay is great! I had a wonderful time making people honk-shuu. Dr. Suchong was a treat. And I got to see Atlas, holy shit. Oh, and Atlas' train spike. ha

On the other, uh, the story is broken as hell. I mean, the good news is that it was probably the timetable and not the studio. The bad news is that the story makes Daisy Fitzroy's death WORSE.

But there's a source of fun even in the broken story. It's oddly fun to try and figure out what the fuck was going on behind the scenes. You ever experience a piece of art where you feel like you're looking through a window at the artists themselves? That's how it feels to me.

The minute the DLC started, with its over-the-top positive Jack flashbacks, my hackles went straight up: this can't be right. This doesn't feel right. This feels like someone made a request. This feels like... CORPORATE RESEARCH. I suspect I felt that way because outright positivity is anathema to BioShock. When I tell you I can only think of one wholly positive event in BioShocks 1 and 2 that comes without horrifying baggage, would you believe me?

Everything about the DLC feels calculated and impersonal, even cynical in parts. It was about the point where the only Little Sister you care about for no specific reason is looking down at you with enormous shimmering My Little Pony eyes that I wondered if I were actually experiencing some kind of joke.

Anyway. Feel free to come on by and tell me how the game goes. Hell, if you see anything I didn't cover or missed or whatever, feel free to say so. I only played the thing once. Lord knows I probably skipped... jesus so much. Hell, I didn't even touch on gnosticism and that shit's everywhere. (Fun treat: check out the Bibles all open to John, the most gnostic of the Gospels lol)

#bioshock #bioshock infinite #bioshock infinite burial at sea #vvatchword

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fantasyinvader · 5 months

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Current Status: Mindfucked.

I finished reading The Man in the High Castle today and that endings was wow. It's almost like the I Ching is alive in it, trying to guide people into realizing the truth about their world.

It was consulted to write The Grasshopper Lies Heavy, and Julianna's readings of it led to her saving the life of it's author. With Frank Frink leads to him creating jewellery that allows people to see another world, one where the Axis powers didn't win. But first it led him to going to Childan's shop, revealing one of his artifacts is a forgery (possibly made by Frink himself) which causes Childan to have a crisis which leads to him deciding to move towards selling handmade American trinkets rather than (possibly forged) antiques. Childan sells it to Tagomi, who ends up seeing the other world with it while his own readings led him to killing some supposedly German officers. Tagomi then stops the Jewish Frink from being sent to Germany to be exterminated, allowing Frink to make more of these pieces.

The novel talks a lot about real versus fake. We can say something is real because it has some form of documentation saying it is real, like a slip of paper saying that a lighter was in FDR's pocket when he was assassinated. But that paper itself could be a forgery. The guys Tagomi killed had papers that said they weren't SD officers, but they were sent by the SD to kill Baynes. Julianna kills the assassin, who initially presented himself as a dark-haired Italian rather than a blonde German, and the papers say she was his wife (she is, in fact Frank's estranged wife). We're told things like the Nazis drained the Mediterranean sea, a SALT sea, to create fertile farmland, wiped out the native African populations and have sent people to Mars and Venus... but they can't figure out how to make a color TV. And this is all by 1962. Or that Japan could take over the West coast, Germany the East, yet the middle of America and Canada were not conquered. Everyone knows that Hitler is a sick man, currently living in a hospital with syphillis, but no one wants to think about how the world was shaped by a madman.

The I Ching said that the truth is that the Axis powers lost the war. The author of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy is scared of that revelation. Does this mean that the entire cast was simply led to believe that was the case, and that Tagomi didn't really travel to our world but saw the world for what it was? But then again, Grasshopper doesn't follow how things played out in our world either.

In a world plagued with misinformation spread through the internet and media, Man in the High Castle is still relevant.

But then you remember how Dick's research for this novel also led him to writing Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? The novel Blade Runner is based off of, and how mankind can justify it's treatment of a synthetic slave race by saying “they aren't human, they don't have empathy”. All this while people use machines to give themselves specific emotions or take care of animals as a status symbol (with others taking care of fake animals and pretending they're real). Ebert described the film version of Deckerd as “a Nazi measuring noses” as part of why he didn't like the film version, but that was a point in the novel. Electric Sheep ultimately said that life is life, regardless of it being natural, synthetic or even mechanical, so long as you believe it's life.

So if we take that sort of mindset, what is High Castle saying about our world? I mean, considering the current spike of antisemitism, the increase of authoritarianism in elections, as well as society's history of racial discrimination... It makes you question the world we're living in to say the least. Maybe it's just trying to urge us to see such problems, rather than just listening to what our governments have to say. Because let's not forget, Man in the High Castle was written during the Cold War with it's threat of mutually assured nuclear destruction, and part of it's ending is ruminating on the fact that the Nazi's are supposedly planning on nuking Japan and may end up destroying the world through such warfare. Even today, the threat of nukes is still out there.

It's stuff like this that makes me love PKD's writings. That literary contact high that makes you paranoid and question reality. Have to find a copy of A Scanner Darkly someday, though maybe will watch the movie tomorrow night.

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thirt13n · 11 months

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they’re both worse for wear ---------- one of those third option kind of assignments where they’ve both seen the wrong end of the fight. if she’s honest she doesn’t fully remember how they even got out of there in one piece ( relatively speaking ---- she has it on good authority and too much damn familiarity that she’s sitting there with at least a couple cracked ribs; but she won’t know the full extent of catching half a dozen steel - toed boots with her side until she can figure out a way to get herself behind an x - ray without worrying the tech is going to pull a gun on her instead of pushing the button to light her up ) but she knows john had something to do with it. they can say there’s no honor among thieves -------- but assassins, on the other hand … well ----- at least the assassin laying beside her has it in abundance when it comes to her. “can you imagine us not having nights like these anymore?” her voice crackles thanks to a pinch of her ribs; the ice of her drink not doing as much as she would like to numb her; inside or out. “can you imagine us having a normal, boring, saturday night, john?”

she doesn’t mind if @unvendaval doesn’t answer ----- it’s to be expected. he’s quiet to begin with; always chooses how he doles out his words carefully. but he gets even quieter after a night like this, as if silence has healing properties ( or maybe he’s just like her; filling in the absence of conversation with all the ‘what ifs’ her mind can churn out when it doesn’t have to compete with anyone else for her attention. ) “ we should meet in another life .” unsure if he’s being serious or not, she simply lifts her chin to look at him, sitting just out of reach on the other end of the sofa.

“we should. i hope we would,” be seeing you gets tossed around so much in their circles it borders on the cliché ------- and most of the time it’s lobbed at people ( with a sharp tongue and a healthy dose of cynicism ) she has no desire to come across ever again, this life or the next. whatever that means. but as is often the case, he’s the exception to so many of her rules. “can you even imagine?” she sighs almost as if she’s daydreaming ( though it might just be the adrenaline spike starting to dissipate ), but it’s a thought, isn’t it? no longer having to be on the run, never having to worry about each time they see each other possibly being the last. what does it say when there’s more hope in a hypothetical than the here and now? “maybe it’ll be calmer than this one. i think we’d do calm pretty well you and i.”

#unvendaval #unvendaval / john wick.#ic » plaintext ; answered.#verse » john wick.#YOU ASKED FOR THIS #and it did not get rid of those reincarnation seeds it just made it Worse

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sporadically-writing · 2 years

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Ripley Hargreeves Character Bio

Basics

Full Name: Ripley Hargreeves

Nicknames: Rip, Rips, Ripples, Number Seven (Vanya is Eight), Seven, Cog

Age: 29 during The Umbrella Academy, Season 1

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Appearance

Skin Tone: Fair

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Honey blonde

Hairstyle: Wavy, cut short to about halfway down her neck, occasionally worn in a short, bouncy ponytail

Makeup: Pretty much just mascara to make her eyes pop

Build: Short and seemingly unimposing. Her muscles are slight but she is in shape enough for her purposes (i.e. self-defense)

Height: 5'5"

Style: She loves vests so much. The most sleeves she'll wear these days are short sleeve shirts. She has plenty of plaid shirts and other jackets that she has cut the sleeves off of. She uses the leftover fabric for rags/towels. Her favorite colors are green, black and shades of red and orange. She also really likes spiked bracelets and small hoop earrings.

Personality

General Personality Traits: Sarcastic, Inventive, Humorous

Strengths: Intelligent, Loyal, Perceptive

Flaws: Easily angered, Tired, Risk-prone

Habits and Mannerisms: She is always fidgeting with something; She closes her eyes to rest them a lot; She has a very irregular sleep schedule

Secrets: When she left the academy, she actually tried to find her birth mother. She was unsuccessful; She will never tell her siblings how much she missed them after she left, at least not fully

Regrets: She does regret leaving when some of her siblings were still in the house

Skills/Talents: Her specific power comes in the form of tinkering/mechanical mastery. She is very good with machines and can put gadgets and other things together from seemingly nothing; She is not terribly brilliant at it but sometimes she paints, it helps her relax

Likes: The night sky, painting, her ferret Gizmo, Alcohol (especially Whiskey)

Dislikes: Her own insomnia, Being called weak, Timers/Alarms

Sense of Humor: Snarky comments, anything ridiculous her siblings do

Guilty Pleasure: Nights spent staring at the stars from the old telescope

Defining Moment: Leaving The Academy after a fairly heated argument with her father

Relationships

Friends: She doesn't really have that many

Family: Sir Reginald Hargreeves (adoptive father), Unknown Biological Mother, Grace Hargreeves (adoptive mother), Pogo (uncle?), Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben, Vanya/Viktor

Enemies: (Technically Reginald counts), The Commission, Hazel and Cha-Cha, Harold Jenkins/Leonard Peabody

Lovers: [I'm going to give her one eventually I just haven't figured it out yet]

Relationship Status: [Also haven't figured out whether she starts in a relationship or not]

Reputation: She's weird but smart, abrasive but very friendly once you get to know her

Miscellaneous

Current Residence: The Academy

Collections: Various tools and pieces of random scrap, puzzles, paints and small canvases, blankets

Accent: American

Voice: Full, confident, almost constantly teasing

Signature Quote: "Let's roll out freaks."

Song: This is Me Trying - Taylor Swift (there are so many other songs that remind me of her and I'll take about them sometime but this one really describes her trauma)

Backstory

Born to an unsuspecting, not previously pregnant woman in Australia, on October 1st 1989, the young girl is quickly swept up by a strange man and brought back to America. The seventh of eight. Ripley, eventually named by Grace, grew up with her other adopted siblings for a handful of shared birthdays until suddenly, Luther got really strong, Five started teleporting and everyone else (except maybe Vanya? Ripley isn't sure) started getting superpowers.

Ripley's manifested strangely. One day, Ripley escaped the house momentarily, deciding to explore the alley to the side of the city residence. She found some interesting objects that had fallen out of the dumpster and had an idea. She cobbled the device together, creating a Newton’s Cradle of sorts. She was super excited and was showing her siblings what she made when their father came in and saw. Training began then. She would be given a bin full of various objects and the name of a mechanism. The goal was to create the mechanism before the timer was done. Eager to please her father, Ripley diligently worked to complete the task. She always did, but with every success, the next time the timer would be shorter and shorter. The objects she was required to build continued to get more and more complex as well. Stress was a commonality in Ripley’s day to day life.

Her powers proved useful in Umbrella Academy scenarios as well. Ripley possessed a surprising understanding of machines, even ones she had never interacted with before. She just had a powerful and innate understanding of how things worked. She could help her siblings in and out of locked spaces, she knew how to disable traps and power grids when she needed to. She also had a large arsenal of weapons and gadgets that she had been cobbling together and improving over the years, those certainly helped.

But, as with most cases in the Hargreeves household, Ripley’s father and the way he interacted with her and her siblings, weighed heavily on the girl. She was anxious constantly that she wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t strong enough. And her father never really made an effort to assuage that insecurity. That insecurity also came with quite a bit of resentment for the man and eventually it came to shouts.

There wasn’t really any other choice for Ripley but to leave. Screw him. She’d find her own way in the world. She did alright for herself all things considered. Could it have been better? Absolutely. But so could her childhood, right? She’d be fine…

She did miss her siblings terribly though. She’ll never tell them, but she did. She watched all of Allison’s movies, even the bad ones.

Then, Vanya released a book, and as much as she missed her distant sister, the words written within that book hurt.

Eventually she would have to face her family sooner rather than later because one day, when she was fixing up someone’s car, she heard some news over the radio.

Oh shit. Dad’s dead.

#ripley hargreeves #tua oc #the umbrella academy oc #hargreeves sibling oc #hargreeves siblings #hargreeves oc #tua #the umbrella academy #my oc stuff #oc bio sheet #oc #tua x sibling!reader #the umbrella academy x sibling!reader #tua x sibling!oc #the umbrella academy x sibling!oc

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lyranova · 2 years

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Children of the Future:

Chapter 29: Goodnight, Sweet Prince

Hi guys! So here’s chapter 29, so this was originally chapter 30 but because of how I ended the last chapter this one got pushed up so now there’ll only be 41 chapters! Once again I am terrible at fight scenes so it’s pretty vague. Also I’m going to take a small break (like maybe a week?) from this so I can work on other things (like requests, yamichar week) but it’ll be a week at the most 😁! Please mind the warnings in this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy!

Taglist: @eme-eleff @thoughtfullyrainynightmare @simpingforthisonedeer @crazyclownthanos @flow3rbudz @luminouslion @elysianluv @bowandcurtsey and @vwdxwnsk (if anyone else wants to be tagged please let me know!)

Word Count: 3,151

Warnings: Death, Violence.

———

Yami, Charlotte, and Hikari watched as Botis, not only transformed into a snake, but his mana increased as well. This must be his true form. Suddenly, Botis swung his tail at the trio, who were only just able to get out of the way.

“ Where did all this mana come from?!” Hikari asked as she dodged his tail again, Yami turned to look at her out of the corner of his eye and let out a sigh.

“ He was distributing it between those little viper minions of his.” Yami said and Hikari looked around, all those vipers they were battling had disappeared. Suddenly Hikari’s Ki picked up on something and she saw Botis’s tail coming towards her, luckily she was able to get out of the way before it smacked against the pillar.

“ What is he just going to use his tail all the time?!” Hikari nearly shouted as she used her Katana to send a Dark Spatial spell towards Botis.

“ It looks that way.” Charlotte said a little out of breath as she used her Briar magic to make a shield to block his tail. “ Maybe that’s how he uses his magic? Through his tail?”

“ Only one way to find out!” Yami said quickly as he and Hikari took off running towards Botis. Charlotte watched the two and, as his tail swung at her, she used her magic to block it just before having the roses wrap around it. Effectively holding it in place.

Hikari and Yami looked at each other for a few seconds, this was their chance. They ran even faster towards Botis and the two leapt in the air and just before they could send a spell his way, they were quickly swatted away like flies.

Charlotte’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach as she watched them be knocked into the walls.

“ Yami! Hikari!” She shouted, and as she was distracted, Botis was able to get his tail out of her spell and knocked Charlotte into the pillar behind her.

“ Seriously? This all you three got? I’m more disappointed now than when I fought you previously.” Botis said lazily as he watched the trio lie on the floor for a few seconds.

Yami and Hikari both shook their heads and looked around before looking at each other in confusion.

What happened? How did they end up all the way over here?

The two recalled standing beside Charlotte, talking about Botis’s tail and how they might’ve been how he used his magic and then they were somehow over here? Suddenly the two’s eyes widened.

“ Ah, I see you’ve finally figured out my magic. I have what you humans call ‘Memory Magic’, at least a form of it.” He explained lazily. “ The minute my hands touch you, or my talons claw you, it erases a small piece of your memory. The more they touch and claw, the more you lose your memories until finally you’re a husk of your former self.”

After Botis explained he immediately felt something slice his cheek, he turned slightly and saw it was a spike of briars. He turned to see Charlotte standing there, she was using her Queen of Briar’s spell.

“ Enough!” She shouted as she sent more and more vines his way, he was able to block a few with his tail and hands, but he wasn’t able to get all of them as they sliced him. She used it as a distraction as she used a few more Briar vines to grab Hikari and Yami and bring them away from him and towards her.

“ Thanks for the save Princess.” Yami said with a smirk as he shook his head, Charlotte smirked as well before glancing down at him. The smirk slowly slid from her face as a memory popped into her head, one where she had seen him look this beat up before. One where she had confessed her love to him as he laid there dying.

“ Mom!” She suddenly heard Hikari shout and she turned to see Botis’s tail coming towards her again, she wasn’t going to have enough time to dodge it.

Without warning Yami jumped up, wrapped his arms around her, and pushed her to the side. Using his body to block Botis’s tail.

“ Mom! Dad!” Hikari shouted running towards them, Charlotte looked up at Yami with wide eyes, if this were any other time she would be blushing like crazy and her heart would be pounding. But instead of worrying about how they looked, right now all she could think about was if he was hurt.

“ Yami, are you-?” She asked before she felt something cool hit her shoulder, she looked at it before looking back up at Yami. Botis’s tail had slashed his shoulder.

“ Yami-!” She nearly shouted but the dark haired man just shook his head and stood up before helping Charlotte stand.

“ I’m fine Princess, just a scratch.” He told her with a small smirk, it was more than a ‘scratch’ but she didn’t comment on it.

“ Are you both okay?” Hikari asked in concern as she looked at her ‘parents’. When they both nodded she let out a small sigh of relief. “ At least his memory magic doesn’t go all the way to his tail.” Hikari added light-heartedly, the others nodded in agreement.

“ What if I use my Briar magic to pull his attention away, Hikari uses her Dark Spatial magic to attack him, and you can use your magic to deal the final blow?” Charlotte asked, Yami thought about it. He didn’t like the thought of putting Charlotte and Hikari in danger, especially since they were dealing with a devil who could erase memories as he attacked.

“ Let’s try it.” Hikari stated firmly, Yami looked at her and sighed in defeat. He couldn’t win against both women.

“ Alright, let’s give it a go.” Yami said as he pulled out his Katana, Hikari pulled hers out as well and Charlotte began to make spears out of her Briars.

“ Are you done coming up with a useless plan?” Botis asked in boredom as Charlotte sent a spear his way.

“ Go now Hikari!” She shouted, Hikari nodded and took off running towards Botis. She used her dark spatial magic to attack and slice the devil, she even used her mana zone to pull his attention as he began to try and use his tail to take care of Charlotte’s Briar spears.

After a few minutes of Charlotte and Hikari tag teaming and draining his mana down, Yami gathered as much mana as he could for his spell. He was only going to have one shot at this.

“ I must say, you two aren’t really giving me much of a challenge.” Botis said as he continued dodging and swatting away their spells. He suddenly frowned as he felt a large concentration of mana coming from where Yami was standing.

“ You two worked hard, thanks for keeping him busy for a bit.” Yami complimented the women, when Botis turned to look Hikari just smirked at him before getting out of the way.

“ Dark Cloaked Dimension Slash: Equinox!” Yami shouted suddenly, Botis’s eyes widened; this was the same spell that had taken out Zagred!

As Botis went to get out of the way he felt something wrap around his tail and his body, when he looked down he saw nothing but red roses. No matter how hard he tried, there was no escaping this.

Botis gasped as he felt his body being slashed through, he thought he would feel immense pain. But instead he felt something else; relief and sadness. He fell to the ground with a loud thud as he and the throne room had both been split in two. Yami, Charlotte, and Hikari walked up to him.

“ How-?” He gasped, his body was beginning to fall apart even though his heart was still beating. Yami let out a sigh and shrugged.

“ It’s probably because you couldn’t use your mind games and little tricks on us this time, or maybe because you didn’t ambush us with an entire army so we were able to see how terrible you really are at fighting.” Yami said, suddenly Botis laughed much to the three’s confusion.

“ You really think…this is the end?” Botis said softly. “ This is only…the beginning…this isn’t over…yet.”

“ Looks pretty over to me.” Hikari said as she crossed her arms, Botis laughed again, but this time much weaker.

“ That’s…because you…aren’t thinking about…it…do you…truly think I’m capable of…doing all of this?” He asked with a smirk, Charlotte frowned.

“ What are you talking about?” Charlotte asked.

“ You’ll find out…soon enough…” Were the last words Botis spoke before he disappeared into thin air.

Hikari, Yami, and Charlotte all looked around at each other. What did he mean by that? Did he mean there were more devils, and that he didn’t do this all on his own?

“ We need to find William and Alistar. Now.” Charlotte said, the others nodded and they quickly left the throne room and ran towards where Alistar and William had been.

——

William let out a groan as he opened his eyes, what on earth happened? He slowly sat up and placed a hand on his head. The last thing he recalled was Alistar using a sleeping spell on him, and he said ‘I’m sorry father’. What did he mean by that? Certainly he didn’t…? No Alistar couldn’t have possibly betrayed them! He was different from William right? He had raised his son differently and probably warned him to not betray those close to him…didn’t he?

William looked up as he heard a chorus of William, Captain Vangeance, and Goldie Guts. The Sukehiro’s had rushed into the Wizard King’s office and began to help him up while looking around.

“ Are you alright? What happened?” Charlotte asked as she looked him over, William shook his head as he leaned against the desk.

“ I’m not too sure myself.” He muttered, Yami frowned.

“ Where’s the kid?” William looked around again, Kya and Alistar were gone and probably had been for a while.

“ I…I don’t know. Alistar and I had stumbled across this room while we were searching for Kya’s brother Kito, and…” William trailed off, he wanted to tell them the rest, but was worried they might think Alistar had betrayed them or worse, was the one behind all of this.

“ Kya Grinberryall’s here too?” Hikari asked, when William nodded she frowned. “ Then where did she go?”

“ With Alistar I imagine.”

“ Did you see where they went?” Yami asked as he crossed his arms, William shook his head as Hikari walked over to the book shelf.

“ No. Alistar…he…” William paused again but Hikari finished his sentence for him.

“ He knocked you out with ‘Spider Lilies Slumber’ didn’t he?” Hikari asked as she inspected the shelf, William nodded. “ That’s one of Alistar’s more proficient spells. He uses it a lot because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.” She muttered and frowned when she picked up one of the books on the shelf.

“ Did Alistar look at this?” She asked William curiously as she walked over to him, William nodded.

“ Yes, he was looking at it before he knocked me out. Why?” Hikari opened the book to reveal a photo album. The Wizard Kings private photo album.

“ The hell?! Is that Asta?” Yami asked in surprise as William and Charlotte sat there wide eyed themselves.

Inside the book was a photo of Asta, Noelle, Brielle, Mizuki, and Kaiyo. All sitting there happily. As Hikari turned the pages there were more and more photos of, not only them, but of the Black Bulls, the Golden Dawn, and even of Yuno and his family in Spade. Towards the middle of the book Hikari frowned as one of the photo's edges was flipped.

Underneath the photo was a cut out, and inside was what appeared to be a Magical recording device and two flowers. One was a buttercup, and the other Hikari didn’t recognize. It was a dark purple shade, with the petals drooping over one another, it looked similar to a Lavender but she knew that wasn’t it.

All she knew was Alistar had left these for them to find.

“ We need to find Alistar. Now!” She said in a panic as she handed the book to William and took off down the hall.

“ Hikari wait!” Charlotte had shouted, but she couldn’t wait. Alistar had figured something out and was going off on his own to take care of it!

——

Minutes passed as Hikari ran around the Castle looking for Alistar, she had followed the traces of his mana but didn’t see him anywhere, it was as though he had vanished. She didn’t see any traces of Kya either. Could they have already gone back to the past? No way, Alistar wouldn’t have possibly done that. Unless he took Kya to the time gate and then came back?

Hikari had used their magical communication device to try and get a hold of Alistar but he refused, or couldn’t, answer. Her anxiety and that feeling in her gut just got worse as the minutes ticked by.

Suddenly she froze as she felt a large burst of mana, she turned to her left, it was coming from that direction!

The dark haired girl quickly ran down the hall, that large amount of mana had to belong to Alistar! There wasn’t anyone else that it could be besides him or her ‘parents’ and William, and those three were far behind her.

As she ran a few more feet down the hall she came to a slow stop. She could hear boots echoing down the hall, they were slowly coming closer and closer towards her. She stood on her guard just in case it was a devil or one of those monsters from Miku’s memories. Slowly, as the person came closer and closer, the moonlight from outside revealed there face.

It was Alistar.

Hikari let out a sigh of relief as he came towards her. She had thought it was him by the Ki, but she couldn’t be too sure.

“ Alistar,” she frowned suddenly as she saw his face covered by his hair. “ are you okay?” She asked in concern, but he still didn’t say a word. Instead he walked up to her and suddenly collapsed against her. She immediately wrapped her arms around him to catch him before she fell to her knees.

“ Alistar! What-?” She asked in shock, she suddenly felt something cool against his back, and when she pulled her hand away she gasped. It was blood. She looked down to see a gaping hole in his chest.

“ I-I…I need to get Captain Vangeance!” She stammered as she pulled out the communication device. She quickly pressed the button

Alistar was gasping for air. He had been so relieved when he had first seen Hikari down the hall, but then a tremendous amount of guilt washed over him. He didn’t want her to see him like this, he didn’t want the memory of him dying like this living on in her head for the rest of her life, he didn’t want her to feel guilty for not being able to save him.

The white haired man then tried to open his mouth, he had so much he needed to tell her.

“ D-Don’t try to talk! It’ll only take your strength away, so…s-so just don’t say anything okay?!” She stammered, Alistar suddenly felt something wet hit his shoulder.

Hikari was crying.

Alistar felt his heart break, he hated making her cry, she was usually so strong and so brave that it took a lot to make her cry. So anytime she did cry it would just rip him apart. He opened his mouth again, he had so much to tell her. So much he needed to tell her. But his voice just refused to work.

He needed to tell her how thankful he was for her being his friend and bodyguard, he needed to tell her that she was the reason he wanted to become one of the strongest Magic Knights, how he wanted to help her achieve her dream of being the Wizard Queen, but most of all, he needed to tell her that he loved her.

Oh how Alistar regretted not telling her that sooner.

“ I-I…I need to get Captain Vangeance!” She stammered as she pulled out the communication device. She quickly pressed the button and began to nearly scream that Alistar was dying and they needed to hurry so Captain Vangeance could heal him!

But they both knew they wouldn’t get there in time.

Alistar moved his head slightly as a shadow caught his attention, his eyes widened in fright. He began to try and talk again, he needed to get Hikari’s attention now!

“ D-Don’t try to talk! You can tell me once you’re healed, okay?!” Hikari shouted as she suddenly held him closer, Alistar continued, but his voice just wouldn’t work.

Behind them stood Kya. As she stood there, an evil smirk grew onto her face before she suddenly pulled her bottom eyelid down and stuck her tongue out in a taunting manner at Alistar.

Alistar desperately needed to tell Hikari that Kya was the one who did this. Not only to him. But to Spade and Clover as well.

But he couldn’t. He was too weak. Even though Hikari’s arms were wrapped around him in a warm embrace he couldn’t feel it. He was too cold. As he stared at the taunting girl in front of him, no, the monster taunting him he felt full of nothing but regret. Regret that he couldn’t tell Hikari about his love for her and that their main enemy was just behind her, regret that he was leaving everyone else behind to finish the mission by themselves, regret that he wouldn’t be able to see the new and bright future that they would all go on to create once everything was done.

‘But it’s okay,’ He thought. ‘Because I know things will work out in the end. That everyone will be okay even though I’m not there. That everything’s going to be alright.’

Hikari suddenly felt Alistar’s body go limp in her arms and she froze. No…no way…

“ H-Hey, this isn’t funny Alistar…” She said softly, she didn’t dare glance at him, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “ Y-You need to get up now so we can go home, your dads waiting…” she trailed off.

Hikari tried to shake him, but he didn’t move, she began to mutter and try to convince him to stand up. That this joke isn't funny. To make one of his stupid puns he liked. But Alistar didn’t.

“ Alistar…” Hikari spoke so softly that it barely even registered as a whisper. Finally she glanced down at the white haired man in her arms, and all she could see was his usual warm smile on his handsome face. Just that damned smile.

“ ALISTAR!!!”

———

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#black clover fanfiction #children of the future #black clover fanfic #black clover oc fanfiction #oc; alistar #oc; hikari #hikari is not my oc #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #william vangeance #oc; botis

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doubleddenden · 1 year

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Okay so I'm thinking about how the Pokémon Day Presents is 20 minutes. I'm usually pessimistic about these because last time it was mobile game garbage with like a minute of okay stuff.

But here's what's guaranteed:

Scarlet and Violet DLC teaser or equivalent. Everyone that's played knows why so there's no point going further

What's most likely coming:

RBY, MAYBE Green for US I doubt it; GSC, and at the least RSE for NSO. I'd say FRLG too but they may opt to ignore it since LGPE exists on Switch. Either way, it's most likely the case due to the Nintendo Direct that announced Gameboy and GBA games but only showed the Pokémon TCG game for then. The trailer for the Presentation also previewed the old school sprites, the RBY intro, the RBG balloons- we know they like nostalgia, it's coming. Couple the GBA games with the events and the fact that 3ds will be closing shop next month, they pretty much are guaranteed to make it available.

PMD- something is being announced. My bet is on an Explorers remake since they recently dropped the OG remake. We know something is up due to the copyright being on the website code showing Spike Chunsoft 1993 to 2023, and unless they're suddenly going to drop Donphan Rompa and have Pikachu have to figure out which of his classmates killed Butterfree, that pretty much just points to PMD.

That alone should comprise at least 15 minutes. We could probably toss in a minute or 2 to casually remind everyone to download all the Pokestuff they can on the 3ds before the end time comes (so basically Bank- which will be free- and the SM demo for Ash Greninja).

Other than this that leaves a little wiggle room. A minute or 5 is guaranteed to be nostalgia bait and probably a montage of photos from the hashtag campaign they did for Twitter recently.

The only thing left I could guess would maybe be the usual rock cast at Pokémon Sleep, but only because it had a recent stir a couple of months back for... I think trademark, I might be wrong, but it was definitely a small behind the scenes ripple.

As always, I'll be praying for some reminder that Colosseum and XD existed. Won't happen because there's just not enough time. But I'll still hope for a third party studio to bring it back some day- and it'd fit since the GBA games will come back.

But anyway, why don't I have fun with a prediction of what the SV dlc will probably look like:

1. Hexagon legendary revealed, basically a piece of it exists in all Terra Orbs and its basically been soft fusion this whole time. Full form probably has something to do with a world turtle, 2 forms: ancient and future, dragon /Psychic type

2. New uniforms. Not full customization, but probably some special uniform for exploring deeper into Area Zero or some extra variants on the uniforms- maybe even straight up copies of Arven, Nemona, Team Star, and Clavell's uniform variants.

3. Probably mostly going to be artwork, couple of new characters locked to versions, and probably the professor OPPOSITE to the one we worked with- aka Arven's parent that bailed shortly after his birth- showing up suddenly.

4. 2 parts most likely, maybe a third if they really want to milk this. Hexagon is one part. The "Imagined" Pokémon the other (the Johto Beasts and Unovan Swords hybrids). Potential third is up in the air. One location is probably deeeeeeper into AZ and sort of a Hollow World (kinda like Halo 4). The other most likely that chunk on the north east of Paldea. My next guess would be islands way off the coast since apparently Paldea's oceans just go on forever, according to a recent Boundary Break video on SV- Essentially plenty of space for it.

5. More Paradox Pokémon. If I were a betting man- and I do enjoy gacha- I'd wager either paradoxes for Kanto starters OR Sinnoh starters since they basically got left in the rain for new forms. Probably Kanto because they love jacking Charizard off and Ohmori can't go one game without giving his favorite special privileges. But if they ever wanted to drop Gorochu, it's now or never. Probably an ancient pokemon with either a future counterpart or Eevee or Meowth gets a future counterpart.

6. a forgotten Pokémon gets a new form and evolution akin to Slowbro. Betting on Oddish or Poliwag, or generally a Pokémon with a split evolution so they can milk it like Slowbro in Isle of Armor and Slowking in Crown Tundra.

7. Called something like "Azure Ocean" or "Topaz Tunnel" or "Quartz Quarry"- keeping up with fancy color names.

Of course I could be entirely wrong, none of any of the above happens, and it's just something very, very minor.

#pokemon #pokemon day #pokemon presents

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