#cool toned and the right more warm but it mostly ends up that way because i tried roughly matching the metal around the screens for the tri
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District 7's Tributes and Mentors during the Reaping for the 10th Hunger Games
—The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023)
#me fighting for my life trying to make the kinda blurry screens of treech and lamina look good. interesting that the left column leans more#cool toned and the right more warm but it mostly ends up that way because i tried roughly matching the metal around the screens for the tri#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosasedit#thgedit#tbosas#treech#treech tbosas#abyssal stuff#abyssal gifs#vipsania sickle#pup harrington#lamina#lamina tbosas#gifs#gifset#the hunger games#hunger games#thg#tbosbas#ballad of songbirds and snakes#thg series
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PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)
SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.
PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader
WORD COUNT: 3,648
WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?
(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)
CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER
-
The nightmares start a few days later.
At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.
When you reach the Underdark they only get worse.
What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides.
Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.
Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your—
You always wake up before she finishes.
Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.
When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire.
“You look tired.”
You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid.
“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”
You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort.
As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.
“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”
His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers.
“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“
You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs.
It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.
Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it.
Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.
Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions.
As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely?
As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep.
Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be.
So why hasn’t he said anything?
A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.
You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?
There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.
Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth.
You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push.
You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with.
Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation.
All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.
It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes.
You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.
It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many.
It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat.
Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”
You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.
“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”
Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate.
“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”
You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out.
She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin.
You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down.
In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…
As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.
Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake.
You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you.
It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent.
Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.
Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking.
“Guys! Something’s wrong!”
As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold.
“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again.
“I don’t know!”
“You don’t know?”
The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around.
Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest.
Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path.
He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you.
“What happened?”
Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours.
Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him.
Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.
All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest.
As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.
I’m here, you’re safe.
For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest.
It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt.
“Was it a nightmare?”
You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more.
“Of the past or?”
“Sort of.”
He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt.
“It feels like I’m answering a call.”
“A call?”
“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”
“Feel them?”
You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not.
The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away.
It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night.
“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”
There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams.
“I feel like it amplifies everything.”
Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours.
“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“
“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking.
Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”
There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.”
“You should’ve,” you tell him.
He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.”
You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch.
It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst.
“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“
He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist.
In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.
Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat.
“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”
“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort.
“I suppose that’s a word you can use.”
“To be fair, neither am I.”
You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“
Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.”
Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.”
There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions.
Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold.
Show me the dream.
It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying.
-
TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @tea-a-holics @ghostinvenus @theenadaa @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @ilana-the-lasagna @lillifer @geektarts
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#painful vulnerabilities#astarion#astarion bg3#astarion fan fic#astarion series#astarion x female reader#astarion x reader#astarion x you#summer writes
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Richie Jerimovich HCs that just have to come out of my brain include:
Mostly SFW but a pinch of steamy stuff bc of who I am as a person so MDNI 🤪🥵
He’s afraid to get married again
He thinks something about that paper and ring will make him slip back into his old ways and he’ll let you down just like he did Tiff. So you agreed early on that you wouldn’t get married.
Socially, you start using his last name after a couple of years. No one really questions you, either. Christmas cards are signed The Jerimovich Family; take out orders are usually placed under his last name; all of your socials have Jerimovich tacked on the end; when you inevitably have a baby or two, they take his last name and you use it too when they start school. Anyone who’s been around a while knows you aren’t married, but anyone new just assumed you are.
“Should you—do I call you my partner? Like, girlfriend sounds like we’re 16 or some shit. Maybe just my—my girl? Nah, that’s bad, too,” He stresses over the title, like it really matters all that much.
“Baby, it doesn’t matter to me,” You wrap your arms lovingly around his neck, “Pretty much everyone thinks I’m your wife anyway, so.”
“My pretty little pretend wife, huh? I like that.”
He wants more babies with you
Richie loves being a dad. He’s loved watching Eva thrive and every stage she grows into and out of, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the squishy baby phase.
He’s a sucker for the cute onesies that say silly things or big teddy bear costumes they can toddle around in. He’s so attentive and preset and it makes you swoon.
“Hey Richie, I, uh, I was thinking about asking you something,” You start hesitantly, not sure where his mind will be on this, “And it’s totally fine if you say no or not yet or—“
“Out with it. You’re scarin’ me, baby,” He gently presses his warm palms to your cheeks, “What’s going’ on?”
“Well, just—what do you think about having a baby?” You speak as clearly as you can.
“A baby?” You can’t read his face and it makes your heart race.
You simply nod, holding in your anxiety. Before you can react, Richie scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder.
“Richie! What are you doing?” You screech, playfully swatting at his toned back.
“I’m putting a baby in you right now, sweetheart,” He smacks your behind sharply.
You do talk it over a little bit before you really start trying, but it is entirely possible that Richie did put a baby in your just then.
He’s so much more romantic than you thought he’d be
He’ll get you flowers on a random Tuesday because “They made me think of you, baby.”
And surprise with a delicious homemade dinner when he is somehow able to get home before you.
Or taking you to a cool new spot on his rare night off, having been invited by a local friend to try their new menu. He’s the classic, sticky sweet date that opens your car door for you and helps you with your coat and pulls out your chair for you to sit. Swoon.
If you have a little one, he’ll happily wear them strapped to his chest while you wonder through Target or a farmer’s market or museum. Dad Richie is the gooiest sweet partner, comfortably calming a crying baby or keeping them entertained so you can eat your meal or talk to friends.
He compliments you on everything
Like when you do the laundry he’ll say, “Damn, baby! How do you always fold my shirts so perfect?”
Or when you clean the house while he’s at work, “You keep a beautiful home, sweetheart. Can’t believe you let a dog like me in here.”
He kinda likes traditional gender roles (like you cleaning and cooking while he’s at work), but only so that he can brag about how good you are to him. Someone will compliment his suit and he’ll say, “My girl keeps me well-dressed.”
Or posting a cozy picture of the two of you to his 36 Instagram followers with the caption, “Before she got here this place was just an apartment but now it’s our home. Love you baby! #bigfanofher”
He loves how comfortable you are with Eva
Dating when you’re a parent can be nerve-wracking, but Richie knew right away you’d be an amazing person to be around his baby. You’ve never treated her like a step-child, but loved her like your own from the moment you met.
He gets so emotional when he sees you interacting with her so sweetly, like when Eva needs help with homework or asks you to help her with her hair. He’s just obsessed with his girls 🥹
This man gives and gives
He’s such a giver in all aspects of his life: carrying in all the groceries, starting the coffee in the morning, brushing the snow off your car so you don’t have to.
As far as the sex goes, this man loves making you squirm and whine below him, buries his face in you whenever he can, and pulls orgasms out of you like there’s no tomorrow, leaving you a whining, whimpering mess by the time he’s done 🥵
Sweet Richie just loves loving you and giving you everything he can 🫶��️
#richie jerimovich angst#richie jerimovich fluff#richie the bear#richie x reader#richie jerimovich smut#richie jerimovich x reader#richie jerimovich#richard jerimovich#kdogreads
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Atoms Love ❙ TP Ratchet x f!robot reader ❙ NSFW 18+
Word count: 3000+ 😅
Warnings: Smut ( Touching, teasing and spike in valve ). NSFW 18+.
Notes: Been wanting to do one of Ratchet for a while now and was so thrilled to get this finished. I did change the title from the previews I had posted, I just felt this was more suited. Thanks anon for sending in this beauty, I had lots of fun with it. Sorry for the wait.
I'd like to add that when reader use to be Rachet's student she was of age, not underage. Just a simple rule that teachers shouldn't be involed with their students like in our world with collage/university. That's all. Hope you're all enjoy the sexy medic. 🥰
Your arrival on earth is greeted with a warm welcome from team prime. For so long you've been travelling planet to planet, searching for friends and perhaps a place to call home. While you didn't mind the ongoing travel at first, you were eager to settle for good. Earth was your next stop and you felt pretty lucky to find Optimus Prime and his team, but what got you even more excited was that Ratchet was there, your former teacher back on Cybertron way before the war started.
Through the coms of your ship you can hear the ecstasy from Ratchet, and you can't hold back your beaming smile hearing your favourite medic again after so long. Earth is to be your home now, that's what you decided. Sure, decepticons might've been hanging around but you could handle it. Your skills as a medic and through tinkering science will prove to be useful, all thanks to Ratchet who has taught everything he knew.
It's good to have Arcee around, you thought, so you weren't the only femme around, and she admitted that it's good to have another femme to join team prime. She is pretty cool, you thought, and such a skilled warrior. You two were going to get along.
The others were great as well, you even met these interesting humans they had around. Optimus expressed his appreciation to have you join them, and also added that Ratchet hadn't stopped talking about you since the comlink transmission. At first you were flattered, but hearing Ratchet fluster so quickly, struggling to explain himself did make your cheek plating heat up a little trying to hide your smile.
The moment was over, but Ratchet and you did spend a lot of time together, mostly talking about science and even doing small experiments of your own just for fun. The others saw all this but they didn't dare to say anything or interfere. Apparently Ratchet was pretty quick with his wrench if someone was to disturb him.
It's been a few weeks now since your arrival and it was going well. You feel settled and are surrounded by others who are almost like a family. You find yourself with Ratchet again, of course, you do spend a lot of time with him. Later that evening, you are both currently doing some tinkering and small experiments to pass the time together, measuring the right formulas and discussing the old times back on Cybertron.
"Oh but I'm serious. Out of all my students, you were one of the best. Someone with your intelligence deserved to be in the higher ranked classes, and I argued with those lug nuts in the higher grounds, but they didn't see what I saw." Ratchet goes on to say as you listen in.
"Well, it's a good thing that didn't happen, because I would've missed my favourite teacher. I only learned from the best, and it's because of you that I ended up here."
"Me? No, I'm sure there are other reasons." He tries to brush himself off but you shake your helm.
"There was much I believed from you, and I admired you, I still do, and I'm grateful I had a good teacher like you to help guide me through my younger learning time."
Meeting his gaze you saw him staring at you fondly as you return the same stare before he forces himself to break that small trance you thought you felt happening. It was quiet before you heard him vent out heavily and place his tinkering on the bench.
"May I make a confession to you, y/n?" His tone is deep, as if he's still wondering if he should keep talking to you about whatever is going on in his processor. "Just promise not to laugh."
"Of course you can. I've never made fun of you before, and I don't plan on it." You'll listen to him and hear what he has to say.
"Well, when you were my student, I did say a number of times how much I admired you and praised your skills, but what I never told you was that I admired you...affectionately."
This makes you stop what you're doing. He now had your full attention. "Putting it simple, you had a crush on me?"
Ratchet lets out a light hearty laugh but it's not because of what you said, but because of what he was confessing to you after all this time. "Yeah, that's putting it simple." Another vent leaves him, optics cast against the bench as he fiddles with the tinkers to try and avoid your own optics. You wonder if he is ashamed or embarrassed, but you want him to know that he doesn't need to be.
"How come you didn't say anything before?" You already knew the answer to that.
"Because I was your teacher and you were my student, it wouldn't have been right. You would've been kicked out and I would've been demoted from my position. So, I locked away those affections, and continued to be your teacher."
"That sounds sad. Doesn't sound like you wanted to do that, and you are making yourself sound like you haven't been happy for a long time."
"Oh I've been...content." He didn't sound very convincing to you. "Don't you worry, y/n. I might be older but that doesn't mean I haven't been happy. Regrets, yes, but that's only natural for anyone. I'm just pleased that you're here now, that's all that matters."
If only you knew, perhaps things might've been different.
To move on from it he tries to focus on his tinkering as you look down at your own a little, pondering your thoughts. Well, he did it first, you are only going to add more to this with no way out.
"I have a confession." He hears this from you as he locks his optics with your own. "When I was your student, I was...enamoured by you." You decide to use the fancy words like he does and look at the gadget in your servos a little, turning it for a better look and giving Ratchet the moment he needed to let this progress in him.
"You? I-I mean...you?" His confusion makes you feel a little amused. "How come you said nothing?"
"I was your student and you were my teacher, it would not have been right." You answer the same as his own. "Also, I did express my feelings, just not verbally."
"Well, you're going to have to explain that one to me, because I don't recall anything that gave me any signals that you felt like this towards me." He sounded a little miffed but not in a bad way, mostly with himself you think for not noticing.
"Those blue energon roses. One was left at your work station every week. They're hard to grow and need the right formulas for them to flourish which I did every week and presented to you. I never said they were from me but I watched from afar. You admired them."
"You?" He lays everything on the bench and leans himself against it as if his knees were growing weak. "Those were from you?"
"I learned from the best." You give a dainty smile. "You taught me how to grow them, and I wanted to express my gratitude and...affections, without either of us getting in trouble."
Perhaps if you both confessed your feelings for one another during those times, things might've been different. Sure, you might've been kicked out and he would've lost his position, but at least you would've had each other, right? That's the childish dream you had while being his student but you got over it, at least that's what you kept telling yourself.
"So, you felt the same way about me?" Ratchet wants to clarify once more from you. "Do those feelings still persist?"
"I did." You confirm. "And they do."
Its then you notice you're both holding a deep rooted stare. Blue optic illuminating together in a stronghold, one and the other silently screaming for the other to do or say something, quickly, before it escapes. Ratchet catches it just in time.
"What's stopping us now?"
"Nothing."
It all happens abruptly, one moment you and Ratchet were tinkering away with experiments and the next, you find yourself in his private quarters. There's a growing fever as you run your servos across his chassis, up over his shoulder pads as you feel his own servos smooth over your waist. His warm lips are across your own in a deep, slow passion, his glossa coils with your own while you welcome his touches and kisses through pure ecstasy and eagerness.
Ratchet calmly leads you towards his berth where he sits himself and you straddle his lap as you keep the kiss hot and lasting between you both. It's him that eventually breaks the kiss, touching your helms together as your heated vents hit against each other.
"Would you like to try out a new experiment?"
"I thought we already were." You can't help but giggle faintly, regarding the humid moment you are both currently sharing.
"Think of it as an add on to our current one."
"Why not? Tinkering with experiments is kind of our thing."
Ratchet lets out a light chuckle that you grew to love so rapidly.
"Turn around, and settle in my lap again."
Following his gentle command you do that, sitting back down and pressing your back against his chassis as you feel his servos calmly move across your waist, cascading down over your hips and across your thighs, letting them linger there while he feels you under his touch. You let out a placid vent, feeling relaxed and a small boiling of desire creeping its way through your frame. He then touches his wrist and you catch onto a device being activated in front of your both.
"A hologram mirror?" You smile warmly in amusement. "Is there a reason that it's set up right in front of your berth?"
"Perhaps I like to admire myself." There's a hint of playfulness in his voice making you giggle faintly in return.
"Well, you're quite the sight."
"You're a better looking sight."
Ratchet turns your helm a little so he can kiss you gently before resuming his actions, servos ghostly running on top of your tights and inwards, close to your warm panel. His chin rests against your shoulder as he looks at the mirror, as you lock your optics on it as well, watching what he is doing to you. To see everything is very arousing for you both.
You spread your legs to give him more access, hanging over each of his as you settle comfortably in his lap and rest yourself back against him, letting out silent heated vents that slowly boil more within you. Your waist wiggles, rubbing softly against Ratchet's panel causing him to let out a silky moan.
"Let's have a look at you. Retract your panel, please."
Without any pause you do this, revealing your already soaked valve for you both to see through the mirror. You can feel Ratchet quiver against your back as he stares, servos moving even closer to your valve.
"Stunning." He whispers into your audio. It's your turn to moan when he touches a digit against your moist lips and delicate node, exploring and teasing you for his own pleasure.
You watch as he uses a second digit to open your lips to explore you more, and uses another with his other servo to gently push into your valve. Instantly you clench around to invading digit, a feathered moan lingering from your vocals. You can't help but rock your hips gently, both of you watching as he plays with you. "Ratchet." His name sighs from you while your servos rest against both his thighs.
"You're a rare beauty, y/n. You were always my favourite student." His charming words causes you to smile shyly.
"As you were my favourite teacher." Next, you got cocky. "Is this what you always wanted to do to me?"
Ratchet is quiet, optics staring at what he's doing while playing with your valve, digit pumping into you slowly. His response is by adding a second digit to join the first, and his other servo circles around your node, causing you to gasp and back arch, feeling the new buzz suddenly electrocute through your frame.
"This, and much more."
You weep softly through the burning lust that drifts across your entire frame, hips swaying in sync with his servos and digits against your valve before moving your servo up to touch the side of Ratchet's face as a way to hold on and keep him close as possible. Your optics never leave the mirror, fascinated by the sight of yourself and Ratchet's skillful servos on you, knowing very well that he'll more than likely want to try out other things in the future. After all, nothing is holding either of you back anymore.
You hear a faint click and you see his throbbing spike emerge from it's housing between your legs. His girth size was rather impressive, thick and throbbing, canvas up perfectly as small drops of trans fluid leaks from his tip and runs down his length.
He catches you from the mirror staring at his spike making him chuckle lightly. "I'm not that impressive."
"Liar." You comment back before gently wrapping you servo around his spike, hearing him letting out a hitched vent at your warm touch as his optics shuttered a little. "You're beyond impressive. You're phenomenal." It's your turn to moan again as he rewards you with a third digit in your soaking valve.
"You're too kind to this old timer."
"You're my old timer." You notice his expression change a little, as if he is touched by your words before giving you a soft beam against your shoulder.
Your servo slowly starts to pump at his spike, feeling every ridge along the base and every twitch given from him, digit rubbing at his tip and back down to moist him all over. You kind of feel like you're going to need it. His servos are kept on your valve, digits pumping into your stretched depths while rubbing still slow at your node. He doesn't want you overloading just yet. With all this happening both your moans and heated vents surround you both, growing more hotter and eager for more.
"Ratchet, please, I need you inside me."
"Stand up." It seems you both have the same thoughts. Once his digits are gone from you, you stand up on weak legs just a little. Slowly, you lower yourself back down, watching the mirror as Ratchet holds himself in position before finding your mark.
Your mouth hangs open a little while watching yourself sink down onto his spike, taking his thick girth inch at a time while tossing your helm back against Ratchet's shoulder. You can hear his tense grunts as you clamp around him tightly, and let yourself sink fully into his lap again.
"Y/n..." He says your name, almost sounding desperate, like he was begging for something from you.
"Ratchet." You return the same as you give yourself a moment to adjust. "You feel so good."
Carefully, you start to move yourself, watching from the mirror as you see yourself moving along his spike entering your valve over again. His servo wraps around your front and comes to your node again, rubbing at you as he has a firm hold at your hip as you ride him. You're obsessed with the sight, and you know already you're going to want to use the hologram mirror again for yourselves.
Letting out heavy moans you grind down against Ratchet causing him to let out a surprised moan himself, holding a tighter hold as he presses his lips into your neck, glancing at the mirror whenever possible. You hold onto him as you ride his spike, letting out more blissful sounds that slowly grow more.
"Oh frag!" You curse out much louder, unable to hold it in.
"Such language doesn't suit you." Ratchet can't help himself, causing you to give a giggle through your moans.
"Then what suits me?"
"This."
He grabs hold of you tightly and thrusts his hips up against your movements at a rapid pace, causing you to let out a mewl. Looking at the mirror you are obsessed with the sight of you sitting against him, riding his spike, as he thrusts into you, causing the berth to start creaking under your harsh movements.
"Touch yourself."
You do that, using a free servo to bring down to yourself as you rub your node, digits skipping across the base of his moist spike as he enters you over again. Your thighs are spread wide, hanging across his own legs as you hump against his movements and moving in sync together. At this rate, you know you won't last too much longer.
Ratchet seems to read your mind. "Go on darling. Overload with me. Let yourself go."
That is all you needed to hear. Letting out a loud lingering mewl you fall apart and overload hard, watching yourself as your juices pool around the spike and under the both of you against the berth.
His heated vents against your shoulder turn into grunts before he lets out a harsher gnarl and you feel his warm trans fluids soak your depths. hips stilling, keeping inside you as you both sag against one another and the berth. With your optics still cascading at the mirror you are enjoying the sight while letting yourself vent and cool off as he did the same.
"That experiment was fun." You say through a giddy smile.
"Fun indeed. I have more ideas and experiments for us to try out for the future." The very thought makes you hum in delight.
"I look forward to all of them." You gently remove yourself from his spike and turn around, straddling him again and giving him a tender and loving kiss.
He kisses you back just as tenderly before your helms rest together.
"You think you can handle this old grumpy fool?"
"Absolutely." You answer while caressing his cheek plating.
"Fantastic."
There is nothing stopping either of you now.
Also, just to share because I can, this is the position that they had going. Let that invade your mind and consume your thoughts. 😍
#transformers#prime#ratchet#valveplug#ratchet x reader#reader insert#fanfiction#writing#smut#older mechs are always the best#ratchet has a thick spike and skillful servos#sugarrusheag
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Sneak peak of the forthcoming Chapter 8 of Empires Gleam, in which Merlin has gone back in time to save them all, and ended up in a friends-with-benefits situation with Arthur. Mutual pining while having sexy trysts all over the place... chef's kiss.
----
"Ready? Pull!" shouted Arthur, drawing his bow.
Merlin flicked a hand and a clay disc ricocheted into the air. Arthur took the shot and felt in his bones that it was flying true towards the target. But at the last second the disc zinged out of the way and the arrow landed harmlessly in the grass.
"Sorry? Should I go easier on you?" asked Merlin, with an innocent smile.
Arthur glared. “I can't handle anything you’ve got, Merlin.”
Merlin smirked and crooked a finger to pick up Arthur's arrow and float it back to him.
"Again," sighed Arthur. "Ready? Pull!"
This time, the arrow hit the clay disc dead on, but Arthur knew enough about Merlin now to anticipate the second surprise disc. He whipped a dagger out of the top of his boot and threw it, managing to hit the second target mostly by sheer luck.
Merlin's jaw dropped open.
"Arthur, ye gods," he said.
"That's what happens when you’ve been trained to kill since b-" said Arthur, but was cut off by Merlin's mouth landing hotly on his.
Afterwards, when they were lying on the grass, letting the night air cool their heated skin, Merlin asked, "Do you want to tell the others about this place?"
Arthur looked around the aerie, at the neat acres of mossy grass, the high stone walls covered in thick ivy that looked a hundred years old, the blossoming trees, the cozy outbuildings. He took in the whole massive arena, ringed with iron braziers, a fire burning merrily in all of them, giving a warm tone to Merlin's skin that matched his eyes, which were more often gold than blue here.
"Not right now. But eventually," he conceded. "Only because it seems a shame to let all your hard work go unappreciated."
Merlin pressed his face into Arthur's shoulder, pleased as a cat at this simple compliment.
"But not now, right?" Merlin said. "It's too– too– convenient to give up."
"Right. Exactly," said Arthur, with a shiver. Convenient. That's all it was.
------
Then there was the quiet summer morning when the unicorn stepped out of the trees.
Merlin looked at Arthur's raised crossbow, looked at the unicorn, remembered a labyrinth and a beach and a riddle of poison.
Arthur put a finger to his lips.
Merlin tackled him into the dirt.
“Wow, unnecessary,” said Arthur. “I wasn’t going to shoot it. I remember the story of the prat and the unicorn.”
“Couldn't risk it,” said Merlin. “Can't rest my whole fate on whether you are or are not a prat.”
He was lying heavy on top of Arthur, panting.
Arthur said, “You know, I’ve heard that unicorns only appear to virgins. If you’re so worried, we could make sure that neither of us ever sees one again.”
He grinned, thrust his hips suggestively, and reached up for a kiss.
Merlin tasted salt on his tongue and remembered the smell of the sea, sitting across from Arthur, two goblets between them, deciding who would die to save Camelot from the unicorn’s curse.
Tomorrow, instead of making a noble sacrifice for each other’s lives, they would probably trade furtive kisses in the armoury.
And– momentarily– horribly– Merlin wished he’d let the unicorn die.
“No!” Merlin pushed off Arthur and got to his feet roughly. “It’s getting late. Let’s get back.”
He felt the pressure of Arthur’s gaze, but avoided it all the way home.
------
New chapters coming soon to Ao3.
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buck + melancholy :)
hi meg ily <3
also using this one for bthb: forgetting to eat
[Read on AO3]
It’s all overlapping. The exhaust fan in the kitchen, onions hissing and sizzling, somebody whistling downstairs, the clatter and clang of people moving around. Chimney’s voice at the end of the table: “What’s a four letter word for melancholy? Starts with B.”
Eddie’s voice, closer: “Buck.”
This jagged feeling through his chest, sudden and aching and vaguely panicked. He inhales, sharp. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, on the tip of his tongue.
Except—
“Buck?” Eddie is saying again, quieter, closer.
And at the other end of the table, Hen is answering Chimney’s question, telling him the answer is, “Blue. And that E is Elysium.”
Buck turns his head, lifting it just enough to blink at the shape of Eddie leaning down to catch his eye.
“Hey,” he says, smiling. “You with us?”
He puts a hand on Buck’s back, warm and solid and grounding. Buck nods. Sort of nods. He’s—here. Has been here. It’s just—loud, and bright, and his head feels like a rubber band ball, tight and too big for his neck and all tangled in the middle.
Eddie’s hand leaves his back, but only to press cool against his cheek, then sweep up to check his forehead as well. His brow furrows.
“You okay?” he asks, still quiet, more concerned.
Distantly, Buck is aware that Chimney’s and Hen aren’t talking anymore. That Chimney’s pencil isn’t scratching in his crossword book. That Bobby is probably watching from the kitchen as well.
He sits up. Tries to straighten his shoulders. Tries not to wince.
“Headache,” he admits. “I’m fine.”
He doesn’t rub at his chest even thought it still kind of hurts. Not in a way that means something is wrong, just that it could have been. That his brain thought there was, for a moment.
He doesn’t grab the edge of the table either, even though the head rush from sitting up threatens to unravel him.
Eddie hums. Gestures. “Can I…?”
Buck sighs. Slumps back in his chair. Go right ahead.
He lets his eyes close again, giving in to the headache and rubbing at his brow while Eddie takes his other wrist and checks his pulse. Buck doesn’t want to see the look on his best friend’s face because he already knows that it’s fast, he can feel it tripping in his chest. Thinking about it is just making it faster. He grits his teeth.
“Has he been drinking water?” Hen asks, moving closer as well, and Buck takes a slow breath so he doesn’t snap. Or claw his own skin off. They’re just—worried. They’re worried and he hates it, but it’s fine. It’s fine.
“I’ve been drinking water,” he answers Hen, trying not to grumble too much. He bites back an irritated I’m not stupid. She’s just worried. Just wants to help. “And I’m fine. It’s just a headache.”
I haven’t been sleeping well. But he doesn’t say that either.
He tugs his hand away from Eddie’s grip. His friends all exchange looks. It slithers through Buck’s chest, coils in his stomach, a creeping maybe something is really wrong. He shakes his head, hard, and Eddie steadies him before he even realises he’s in danger of falling off the chair.
“Have you been eating?” Chimney now. “Could be low blood sugar.”
“Of course I’ve—” He stops. Recalculates. Remembers not being able to sleep until almost two a.m., sleeping right through his alarm, rushing out the door without breakfast, the bell ringing before he even had his uniform fully on. Calls all through the morning. A granola bar, at some stage, forgotten between the seats in the engine when they pulled up to a bad accident. “Oh.”
Chimney raises a hand: mystery solved.
Eddie shakes his head, more relief than disappointment. “I should have known.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buck grumbles, feeling—embarrassed, mostly. And still like everything is too much, holding onto irritation so he doesn’t give in to the rest of it threatening to pull him under.
“You’re always grumpy when you skip breakfast.”
Eddie’s tone is fond. Knowing. A shot of warmth right through Buck’s chest.
“Sorry,” he offers, more sheepish now. “I didn’t mean to.”
Forget to eat. Worry you. Worry everyone.
“I know.” Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “How long until lunch, Cap?”
“Twenty minutes,” Bobby answers. And: “Here.”
An apple arcs through the air and Buck flinches, his reflexes slow, but Eddie is already catching it.
“Food first,” he says, handing the apple over. “Then painkillers.”
He runs a hand through Buck’s hair, far too casual for the way it makes Buck’s heart stutter. Then he taps his knuckles on the table, a nervous tic, like he just realised what he did. Buck bites into his apple so he doesn’t do something stupid and needy like ask him to do it again.
Down the other end of the table, Chimney says, “Oh hey, seven down. Hangry.”
Hen laughs.
Their voices overlap as they work through the rest of the crossword. Someone downstairs is still whistling. In the kitchen, Bobby is methodically chopping something with a knife.
“Better?” Eddie asks, quiet, when the apple is gone.
Buck rubs at his still aching head, grimacing at the stickiness of apple juice on his fingers. It takes at least ten minutes for blood sugar to increase after eating—longer, usually—and it’s been barely five minutes.
“Yeah,” he answers anyway. “Thanks.”
“Five letter word for ‘essential part’?” Chimney asks.
And Buck thinks: Eddie.
(“Heart,” Hen answers.)
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Hey hey! Idk if you’re up for headcanon requests or if you have a limit but if you’re vibing with this, I’d like to humbly request a headcanon about your 6 JJK characters realizing they’ve caught the feelz for someone! Please and thanks!
Requests are always welcome, I'll get to them all as soon as I can, always!
Thank you for requesting, I had a very traumatic day today so this gives me something to focus one :) I did my best, sorry if they're awful.
As requested, headcannons for Nobara, Yuuji, Megumi, Gojo, Nanami and Sukuna catching the feelz:
Kugisaki Nobara
She hadn't thought much of (Y/N) to begin with; She's not at Jujutsu tech to make friends, but it happens anyway in the most unexpected of places.
(Y/N) is someone who gives gloriously few fucks about what people think, they live by their own rules and they do not apologise for it. It's usually something Nobara would find infuriating in someone, but the way (Y/N) carries themselves with poise and dignity just isn't something she can hate.
It doesn't take long for her to pick up on her feelings, she wants to be close to (Y/N), hopes to be paired with them on missions even though (Y/N) always seems to end up dealing with the worst curses.
Seeing as she's not exactly one to be silent, Kugisaki outright comes out to say it.
'Hey, you're pretty cool.' Her tone was an attempt at casual, but (Y/N) knows that blush on her cheeks isn't from the makeup. 'We should, hang out, outside of class.'
(Y/N) can't help but giggle, Kugisaki isn't as subtle as she thinks she is, the older sorcerer has noticed that crush, mostly because they return it. 'Sure, Saturday, there's a restaurant I want to take you too. Six?'
'Seven.'
'It's a date.'
Fushiguro Megumi
What the fuck does he do with this? Feelings he can't control? This is not what he calls fun.
He's known (Y/N) for years, ever since Gojo rolled into his life, (Y/N) had been around. His age, the unwanted child of a powerful family, they couldn't be any more like him, and yet, they were night and day.
He's quiet, (Y/N) makes their presence known without fear, a beacon of light in his world of shadow.
It's only now that his feelings crept up on him, but in truth...he's loved them for years.
Does he know what to do with those feelings? Absolutely not!
It's up to (Y/N) to pick up on the lingering stares, the warmed cheeks, that smouldering look in his eyes. Suddenly, he's concerned about what missions they take on, suddenly he cares about how many hours they spend training, how well they sleep... it's obvious what's going on, but it takes them time to decide what to do.
With (Y/N)'s mind made up, they knock on Megumi's door after curfew, and the moment he opens the door, they pulled them in, and kissed him.
'You could have just told me, you ass!'
'Would you have kissed me like that if I had?'
Itadori Yuuji
Sunshine ball has no shame, none. When his feelings started, you'd have no idea, because he's always so damn kind.
He knows (Y/N)'s favourite foods at every restaurant they've ever gone too. Café order? Knows that one too.
He knows that their right knee hitches when the weather changes suddenly and he knows that extra training makes them crave savoury things, and yet, he can't remember what the hell he had for breakfast that morning.
He's at their side every chance he gets, lavishing them in attention or just being with them in silence. He's learned which is needed and when.
It's (Y/N) who's convinced they fell in love first, not with what he does, but the way he does it all with a smile, determination. He's hosting the King of curses in his head and yet he doesn't let that horrendous curse drag him down.
Itadori confesses shamelessly after a mission, declaring his crush after a mission like it was common knowledge, even though he's already wincing for a rejection.
The blush on his face when (Y/N) kissed him was pinker than his hair.
'D'aw, you're so cute!'
'Nah, you're cuter!'
Gojo Satoru
Him? Feelings? Like...real ones?
He hates it. Borderline bullies (Y/N) over it. Or he would, if (Y/N) didn't nip it in the bud. If he even thought about having an attitude they'd kick his ass, verbally at least.
Feelings break sorcerers, feelings are the reason curses exist at all. Make no mistake, it takes months, months for him to come to terms with himself.
Loving (Y/N) means someone he can't lose, someone who could stand to be yet another failure if he did lose them. Loving (Y/N) means putting a chink in his armour in a world where special grades aren't so special.
Most of that time, he spends trying to talk his stubborn heart out of love. He can't care again, he already cares too much, but (Y/N), gorgeous, stubborn creature, kicks his ass at that too.
For a straight week, they have the worst luck known to man, meeting special grade after special grade, and every single time he was called in to back them up, they'd exorcised it by the time he got there.
There is an infinity between them...hell of a slim infinity.
'Hey, are you flirting with me, seriously?' (Y/N) drawls playfully over breakfast. Was that hope in their eyes?
'Sure am, what do you say, are you madly in love with me yet?'
'Wouldn't tell you if I was, Mr Ego.'
'Well, I am the strongest. I'll just try a little harder next time.'
Nanami Kento
He is a grown adult, a grown man, he does not have a crush... but if they bite their lip like that one more time he will have no choice but to smile.
(Y/N) is nothing short of adorable, every little mannerism and quirk, he knows them all and spends copious amounts of time wondering what causes them.
They roll their eyes whenever an assignment comes in at an inconvenient hour (or when Gojo talks). They wrinkle their nose at the sight of literally any raw meat or bad coffee. Honestly, their face is a catalogue of their day written in a code Nanami is eager to decipher, bit by bit.
Small tokens of his affection pop up in (Y/N)'s life at random. Late night? Coffee's on your desk.
Skipped lunch? There's a sandwich waiting for you.
He never asks for thanks, never admits to doing it, but (Y/N) knows precisely who it was, and the moment he knows his feelings are reciprocated, he's made a reservation at a restaurant he knows they'll love and has a rose in hand for the invitation.
'Would you like to join me for-?'
'YES!'
Ryomen Sukuna
God, help, you.
Sukuna does not have feelings, he has wants, and he wants (Y/N). Broken, obedient, quiet. He's done it before, he's done it a thousand times. Hunting from a body not his own is a mild inconvenience at best.
The only thing that gives him pause is (Y/N) being more powerful than he gave them credit for.
They lash out without fear, they fight with their brain, not in blind panic.
All it is, is a chase. The longer they make him wait, the more he will enjoy breaking them apart, piece by piece.
'Keep running, little rabbit, look forward to the day I catch you.'
'Dude, you are creepy!'
#jjk hcs#requested#annonymous#jjk fanfic#fluff#jujutsu kaisen kugisaki#itadori yuuji#itadori x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#gojo satoru x reader#nanami kento x reader#sukuna x reader
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chomper (i)
She's a good actress, even when she was an inch away from a heart attack, Joel thinks.
Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)
Warnings: suggested danger, potential for violence (none actually happens), aggressive behavior from an animal
Summary: Joel sees a woman struggling with her dog as a strange man approaches, and steps in to help before things escalate.
No outbreak au and Joel has both his daughters :D
{}{}{}{}
It's dark, mostly, and usually Joel likes it like that because it feels safe and familiar, but he just feels bad about it now. He wishes he could switch on that broken streetlight that the city's been refusing to fix for months now, if only so it would help the girl across the street from him feel a little better.
She twists her head around her shoulder. No one there, not that they can see, but her dog is growling and snapping at the empty road anyway. Joel can hear her muttering reassurances and pleading with the animal to let it go and hurry home instead, but if anything it only encourages the dog's snarling. She's starting to pull at the leash now.
From where he's standing, he can see a figure shift from far away. It slinks closer and closer until it's standing under the glow of a lamp further back, casting a stark contrast of light and shadow on the silhouette of a lanky man. He's tall, maybe taller than Joel, and stares straight ahead. At her. His pace is steady and unwavering, a straight march towards where she stands, tugging desperately at her half-mad dog. Joel thinks the animal is right about its instincts, just not about staying and fighting. He stays right where he is, just in case.
It's when the man begins to slow down, just before the girl and her dog, when he hears her voice crack with fear, that Joel crosses the street. It must have frightened her even more, to see two unfamiliar men stalking towards her in this time of night, because she skitters away from them and jumps when her back reaches a chain link fence behind. The dog, to its credit, snaps ferociously at them.
"Darling, I've been looking for you," Joel sighs, doing his best impression of the tone he takes with Sarah and Ellie when they've been late out. "Do you know we had dinner thirty minutes ago?"
"I- sorry, she wouldn't go back until we reached the park. I didn't realize it was that late," the girl says. She's a good actress, even when she was an inch away from a heart attack, Joel thinks. She even goes so far as to smile sheepishly at the man and apologize for the way the dog tries to lunge at him. "Let's go, puppy. We gotta go."
The man crosses the street and disappears down some other shadowy part of the neighborhood when the girl shifts her attention to Joel.
"Thank you," she says stiffly. She's scanning his person, subtly, but enough for Joel to recognize from his years of service as someone who knows they're still in danger. Her dog, at the very least, has calmed down.
Joel gives her his best gentle smile and says, "I'll just walk with you for another block or so. In case he's still watching." It seems reasonable enough to her, and she nods her assent.
They end up walking three, the first in silence, the second in amiable small talk, and the third exchanging stories of the dog Joel had when he'd been in school and the dog, Chomper, she was watching for a friend for a few months. The night was pleasantly cool enough for him to offer her his flannel, though he felt strangely warm despite its loss as they arrived on his street.
He taps her shoulder gently.
"This is actually me. If you feel ok walking back alone from here, I think I'll go inside," Joel says, his smile lopsided and a little sheepish. He's wondering if this is rude, stopping mid way, but he doesn't want to get to her house and have her feel afraid that he would know where she lived. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough. She waves away his worry.
"You've done more than enough. Thank you, Joel."
The kiss she lays at his cheek flutters through him violently, all shut eyes and short inhale. He thanks the city for not fixing those damned lamps because if they were on, he was sure she would be able to see the way he flushed red from a goddamned kiss on the cheek.
He clears his throat and gruffly replies, "Anytime."
Joel shuts his door and slumps onto his couch a little numbly, unable to suppress the smile at his lips as he recalls the events of a few minutes ago. He feels excitement bubble in his chest. It was just all so... pleasant, the way she smiled as she took the flannel and told him about all-bark-no-bite Chomper and poked fun at how much of a grumpy father he sounded like. Joel doesn't realize he's grinning at his shoes in a dark living room until Ellie snaps the lights on.
"What're you doing?"
Joel jumps to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck and says, "Nothin'. Get back to bed, it's late"
"It's te-"
"Too damn late f'you to be up."
Ellie raises a brow, but shrugs and leaves, muttering something about how the rules in this house changed whenever Joel liked them to. He laughs scoffingly at that too, until he realizes, suddenly, that he'd never even asked her her name.
He puts his hands on his hips.
"Damn you, Joel. All these years and Tommy is still better with women than you."
{}{}{}{}
thanks for reading and lmk what you think!
#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fic#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel and ellie#tlou
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Ziggy's Beginner Oil Painting Tips (Part 1)
Despite being far from a master oil painter, I'd like to do what I can to try and make this amazing medium easier to access for all artists in the wake of AI, NFTs and the current culture of art being seen as "content" rather than something timeless.
I'm far from a spiritual person in any sense, but there is something completely unique about holding an oil painting you created in your own hands. I've yet to be lucky enough to see any of the old master's paintings in person so all I've seen are my own but despite my inexperience there's a depth to my oil paintings that my digital art can't begin to compare with.
Disclaimer: I take a very relaxed approach to oil painting and have never sold a painting before nor do I have any intention to start selling them any time soon so if you want to create museum quality pieces this is not the guide for you.
This is a guide to help people start experimenting with oil paints and putting paint to paper/canvas.
Contents:
Paints
Gesso
Mediums
Paints
I'm primarily a portrait painter so the palletes I recommend will mostly be useful for painting people.
My favourite pallete:
Titanium white
Yellow ochre
Dusty pink (optional, I just got it for quickly mixing skin tones but burnt sienna and white will do the same; provide a base which you can then cool down/darken/hue shift as you want
Vermillion hue
Burnt sienna
Burnt umber
ultramarine blue
Basically it's the Zorn pallete with a bit of customization, but that means if you want some tips for painting with this pallete you can just search "painting with the zorn pallete" and find a lot of helpful resources.
(Note: You may note there is no lamp black or Ivory black, that is because I prefer to mix burnt umber and ultramarine blue. This dries faster in my experience and also lets me cool it down or warm it up as I want.)
Budget pallete:
Titanium white
Yellow ochre
Vermillion hue
Alizarin crimson
Viridian hue
(Note: in this pallete alizarin crimson and viridian hue can be used to mix a grey/black)
Gesso
Despite my laziness in nearly all aspects of life I do like to gesso my painting surfaces even when they are pre-primed (if you are using a surface that hasn't been primed already such as paper priming is very important).
Usually I buy packs of cheap canvases for around $6 AUD so I feel as though the least I can do is add a few extra layers of gesso to them to help stop the paint from sinking right in and beginning to look dull and matte.
Honestly I don't have a brand to recommend, I have used the liquitex gesso and it's good but despite paying a lot for it I only had enough for a few canvases so for the most part I use the type you can get at craft stores for less than $10, so I say go for whatever is within your budget.
Mediums
I avoid solvents completely in my painting, sacrificing my health any more than I already do by leading the Sedentary Artist Life (tm) isn't worth it in my opinion.
I use Liquin primarily but I also enjoyed using Gamlin's solvent free fluid until I stopped being able to open the cap...
Linseed oil is probably the best medium but you will wait weeks for your painting to dry between layers verses the day, maybe 2 days you will wait using Liquin.
Brushes
There's really no reason to buy super expensive brushes, at least not for me, I paint in a way that's very loose so they don't have the longest life span. I still use brushes that have lost their shape for loose hairs and interesting textures though.
You'll note there's usually "oil painting" brushes in art supply stores, these are good for starting a painting and scrubbing paint onto the canvas when you are trying to work lean over fat (as in layers with more oil on top as they dry slower, this helps the painting to not end up looking cracked).
However, water colour paint brushes serve me well for details as well as acrylic painting brushes.
It's all up to experimentation on you, the artist's part.
As for washing your brushes, as long as you don't leave them lying around with paint on them for so long that it drys completely using a bar of soap will do, or if you can afford it buying some brush cleaner/ restorer is great, solvents like turpentine are not necessary at all.
#art#oil painting#artists resources#painting#tips#resources#painting on a budget#expert oil painters will probably disagree with all of this but this is advice from someone with adhd and not a lot of money haha#just trying to have fun here yo
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Rambles about the Millenium Falcon Arc Part 5
...long time no see.
I actually did start writing this a month ago, but it took a bit to get my brain back in the right place after so long away. BUT I’M BACK hi.
Rambles about the Millenium Falcon Arc Part 5
Even though I do think Isidro is meant to evoke Guts he’s obviously not a 1-to-1 comparison, like he’s much more of a chaos imp than Guts ever was. Also he’s scrawny – I do wonder if he should focus more on ranged combat given how good he is with missile attacks. This doesn’t matter at all, but I’m warming up, lmao.
One of the things Miura talked about when he discussed the reason for the reaction for whatever such and such a character was this idea of designing characters to bring out different shades of Guts in order to make him a more multidimensional character. I think this is something he really excelled at – it’s interesting to see his more mentorly side coming out, not to mention the difference between the way Guts treats Isidro and, say, the way Gambino treated him does highlight Guts’ generally better... nature.
And that’s interesting because I’ve talked a lot before about how post-Eclipse (and pre-meeting Griffith) Guts had taken on a lot of Gambino’s traits and attitudes... which is arguably not the best way to navigate the world. But that’s a side of him that comes out mostly when he’s alone and frustrated – when he’s a kid on the road, for example, or after the Eclipse but before meeting Puck. Which is to say, it’s a self-defense mechanism for when he feels lost or angry and lonely without a lot of outlet. When he has people around he chills out considerably, which makes his attempts at being a lone wolf feel a little self-destructive.
I just love how Guts is completely disinterested unless there’s some kind of fight involved. More than that, though, as a pretty straightforward person I suppose he doesn’t have a lot of interest in interacting with people who are wearing a civil mask and carrying ulterior motives.
As for Serpico, it must be odd watching her change so quickly and so completely. This is the beginning of a longer subplot with him watching being weirded out by it and I guess kind of jealous and kind of saddened that Guts and their companions were able to change Farnese in ways he was unable to and thus make her a much healthier and less troubled person.
Okay so as a sidenote, I do really get tired of this. I understand that Casca and Farnese are the most helpless in the group, but the thing where they are constantly the ones targeted for danger is a little meh. You could argue that in the case of trolls it makes sense – given what we later learn about their actions and breeding habits – but it’s still repetitive because they end up being swept up and pulled into troll haven or whatever together again in the future, so like maybe a different plot point? Like the trolls’ presence could have been announced with a battle scene and then Casca and Farnese could have been separated from the group later without eliciting a kind of “oh this again?” type of response, I’m just saying.
Anyway, you know the deal, me and fight scenes are like, eh.
The introduction of magic definitely changed the tone of Berserk. Miura did mention that he made it difficult to manage and slow to start up for balance reasons, and I do think the balance has been largely maintained but it obviously did change the scale of the series and the battles – same with the Berserker armor, for example. This isn’t actually a problem for me in theory but I think the one thing I wish he had done is... I guess better foreshadow the existence of all these things, right?
Like I don’t expect him to have witches in the BSM arc for example – he hadn’t even thought of it yet, he didn’t even know what the main conflict of the story would be until volume 3. But it would have been cool to have more of a buildup leading into Flora and Schierke’s introduction.
Anyway it doesn’t bother me that much, it’s more like the existence of the Hawk prophecies – a missed opportunity that was probably missed just because he hadn’t thought of it yet.
I wonder if Ivalera is going to like, make more of an impact on me during this readthrough. Because honestly, this is volume 24 right? She’s been with them for almost 20 volumes, and I never remember that she exists.
Ah, Schierke. It’s almost fitting that the kind of lighter/less grim tone came in with her because the anime vibes kind of did, too – green hair and all that. I should clarify that I don’t actually mind the lighter tone or the magic or anything, I just think it’s interesting how quickly Berserk went from like grim gritty low fantasy that borders on horror to like epic fantasy adventures. This arc is kind of a transitional point since the trolls are very old Berserk, but obviously the introduction of Schierke and Ivalera really bridge into new Berserk.
Okay this is a little bit of a tangent, but it’s something I was just thinking about today.
So Casca is, for me, uhh... so many a series has a character in it that’s like a major part of the story but you just can’t warm to them and kinda wish they weren’t there because they feel kind of like baggage. That’s how I feel about Post-Eclipse Casca. Like during the Golden Age she served a narrative purpose right, she’s a foil for Guts and then his love interest and then one of his greatest losses. Cool.
Post-Eclipse though I’m just not sure. Don’t get me wrong, I know she’s involved in the story, like half the story is about getting her to Elfhelm. But – and im not sure whether I can articulate this properly but I’m trying – I feel like even though the story revolves around her, she is nonetheless an extra appendage to the plot. She’s a MacGuffin. Her existence causes people to run around trying to do things but she herself is not involved in those things or even really important to them and there’s no purpose she serves in the story that couldn’t be served by something else without much of a change to the core of the plot.
Guts could get to Conviction any way – he could just go there because of the revelation from Griffith, he could get dragged there by Farnese and then escape, he could just be led there by fate – there’s nothing inherent to the Conviction arc that requires him to be chasing Casca. You could say her biggest contribution to the plot post-Eclipse is as a Griffith-obsession-meter, like if he doesn’t care about her, then he’s in full Griffith-fixation mode, and if he’s focused on protecting her, his Griffith obsession is waning.
I don’t know. There is a large part of the fanbase (most of it in the English speaker quarter, in fact) that perceives her as the third protagonist and really puts a narrative weight on her but I honestly think it’s mostly headcanon and cope, lmao. She’s a MacGuffin.
Anyway the reason this section kinda set me off on it is because Casca gets kidnapped or spirited off to Trollhaven twice in this one arc, and she was sexually assaulted twice since Conviction, and she was sexually assaulted and pushed around and used as a MacGuffin for most of Conviction and while this is somewhat true of Farnese as well at this point (the troll thing anyway)... Farnese then becomes a much more formidable person under her own power whereas Casca languishes, gets her memory back, has multiple unconsciousness-inducing flashbacks and then gets kidnapped.
Hmm, I guess the gist of this rant is just “Casca is a character Miura randomly decided to hook up with Guts for drama and then kept around so that Guts would stay mad, and it shows.”
And of course it helps that Casca ends up spending more time with Farnese than Guts so that relationship isn’t’ really emphasized very much outside of a “what is she to you? Oooohh I think I know....” comment every like 8 real world years.
Anyway if she turns out to be crucial in a way that is unique to her later, I’ll be relieved but for now I’m eh.
/rant mode off
So one of the things I really enjoy about Berserk is this feeling that Griffith’s presence, or even the promise of his arrival, inherently changes the world. Before the Eclipse, apostles became more active, and after it they were obviously more present than they had bene before. And after Griffith’s reincarnation, the barrier between the physical and the astral planes start to blur a bit, bringing the monsters out and strengthening the magical gifts of people like Sonia. His presence is such that he changes the world simply by being there... in various ways. Obviously things like bringing the trolls into the world aren’t great, lmao.
And, of course, Guts understands what’s going on even if no one else does yet.
Establishment shot! I’m sort of fascinated by Flora’s mansion if only because it doesn’t actually exist in the physical world.
Now that I’ve gone into that whole rant about Casca, I will take a moment to say it’d be cool if there turned out to be a reason she randomly went digging in the golem – an instinct through her connection to the Moonkid/Griffith, maybe, or just an instinct in general. It’s not something I expect to come up, to be clear – she’s probably just being a curious child since she’s mentally a toddler. But you know, wishful thinking.
This image really sent me off on a death spiral into one of my more obscure theories, which I’m not going to talk about because I hate being wrong about things I’m not ready to be wrong about. But anyway I did look a bit into the meaning of the pentagram which told me... first of all that the use of the pentagram seems to precede any of the meanings we know to ascribe to it, which make sense. But also, that the points of the pentagram represent either the wounds of Christ, the senses, or five elements.
This sent me into a rabbit hole of reading up on elements as understood in different cultures. What I found interesting was like, it seems most places (most) have the same four elements we still talk about today at least to some degree (like it might be wind instead of air, but you know), but there’s sometimes a fifth thing – spirit or heart, for example, in the case of neoplatonic elements, or void/emptiness for Japanese philosophy.
And then I thought about the way Miura liked to combine the philosophies and religious tenants from different cultures instead of trying to fully replicate a specific perspective in his work. Rather the cosmology of Berserk is a little bit of everything, you know? Which made me think... considering the fifth element in Berserk’s world to be Spirit or Emptiness works very well with the way Berserk is set up but it also tends to imply that there’s a fifth elemental lord, unless the joke is that the element is emptiness so the spot for the lord is empty. I’ll probably yada yada more about this when I get to Schierke’s spell in the village because she does say something interesting that I think bears commentary.
But the way Miura repeatedly put the pentagram in a prominent position - even having a whole panel that was nothing but the pentagram, strikes me as interesting and significant.
But one of the things is this: I believe that all religions in Berserk are faces for the same underlying powers – IoE and the Godhand (and perhaps some other servants who fulfill different functions but we don’t know about that). It explains why the old Godhand look like ancient gods, and it explains why Flora triggers Guts’ brand, which is supposed to react to demonic power. Because in the end, she’s still drawing from the same well but in a different way.
Guts being polite as usual, lmao.
It’s interesting that Flora seems to know she’s going to die soon. I know that you could interpret it as her knowing that she is just getting too old and weak, but considering she tells Schierke that they’ll meet again, which refers to the Casca’s Mindscape sequence 30+ volumes later, I assume she has some kind of plug into the future, albeit in a limited way. Skull Knight seems to be similar.
After this Guts says, “It’ll protect against that” with the image of his beast self raping/killing Casca. Which makes me think this scene fuels people’s assertion that he was possessed when he did that, which he wasn’t. But I do think the possessions prior kind of kicked him in that direction and he was unable to extricate himself from it until he was made violently aware of his own dark side and how dangerous it was.
Okay so now we’re going to talk worldbuilding, its my favorite thing.
Bringing this back.
Okay so, I’m just going to break this down into a form I can better reference, rofl.
The Astral plane is, as Griffith would say, where they become one – the afterlife, and also the home of supernatural forces and beings. When someone senses/believes in something that is technically part of the astral world hard enough the thing becomes visible in the physical world, which is why elves have become recognized in the physical world. Later we’ll find out that the astral world’s... stuff used to be a much greater part of the physical world but started disappearing from the physical realm as people drifted from the perspectives that allowed them to be perceived, which continues right up until Griffith brings them back together.
Then the Realm of Idea (the graphic misnames it) is... it kind of reminds me of the concept of the Root in the Fate franchise (and also several actual world religions nevermind that though). The origin of all existence, the blueprint of reality.
And subrealms:
Physical Realm – where people usually are.
Interstice – a shallow level of the Astral Plane that mostly just looks like the physical realm. This is where Guts and Casca are because of the brand. Also where things like ghosts come from when they haven’t realized or accepted their deaths and headed back to the Vortex.
Nexus – a deeper part of the Astral and the space opened by the Behelit/location of the Sacrifice ceremonies. This is interesting to me because Miura once said that in order to injure an astral body, the person trying to injure them has to be in the astral plane as well. Which brings to mind the arguments over whether the Godhand can actually be hurt – people say they must be mortal to some degree because they protect their bodies – e.g Void deflects Skull Knight’s blow and the only time Femto ever defends himself vs Guts is during the BSM arc when the Slug Count uses the behelit to bring the Godhand out. But it makes sense that they defend themselves during Eclipses or Sacrifice ceremonies because during those moments, the entire area is sucked into the Nexus, which means they can be injured in ways they cant be if they’re just walking around on the physical world. Thus, for example, the impossibility of injuring Griffith in the physical world.
The Vortex – A deeper level of the Astral Plane where the megapowers are, e.g. the Godhand, the Element Kings etc. The sea god from the pirate arc, like that.
The Abyss – where the Idea of Evil hangs out.
This page is often cited as proof that there is a heaven and hell, but Flora really is just engaging in conjecture. That said, it does seem like there are places that are more or less pleasant within the astral plane, at least on lower levels like the Interstice, so I suppose its possible that they exist in the Vortex as well. This is one of the areas where I’m the most conflicted because there’s a pretty strong indication that post-death humans lose their sense of self and join the sea of souls where no one has any individuality or identity, but there’s also this comment about karma and such. Plus we do know that some humans do not just melt into the vortex because Flora herself instead became a Daimon although we don’t find that out for a long time.
Right now, I’m sort of operating with the idea that post-death a person retains a sense of self for a certain period of time, during which their experience is dictated by their karma, before they eventually break apart and join the sea. But that’s just a fan wank it’s really an unknown at this time.
This comment is interesting because it brings to mind Schierke’s later comment that the four elemental kings are the same beings that are named in scripture as the four cardinal angels of God. As I said earlier, all religions are one religion.
What did I say the other day? Even witches refer to Griffith as an angel. This kind of burns my bum because people focus on the demon thing very strongly and tend to either ignore the other side of them or suggest that they’re not really angels but are pretending to be – I think Guts even suggests that at one point. But Guts is biased and Flora would know better than he does.
Not for nothing but Guts is being stupid here. Not too surprising, but like what is he going to do, summon them and launch himself at them? They’d crush him like a bug without moving. Come on, man.
But in all seriousness, Guts’ absolute faith in his ability to find a way to win is one of my favorite things about him, but it’s also what leads to him having a mental breakdown when he cant hit Griffith later. I don’t think he’s ever considered the possibility that there’s something he can’t fight his way through.
This also confirms, btw, that Guts hasn’t given up on revenge just put it on hold until he can get Casca to Elfhelm. Otherwise why would he still be trying to figure out how to get at the Godhand? It’s also the best indication that he isn’t only angry at Griffith but at the entire group of them. I assume it’s not dissimilar to the way Skull Knight runs straight at Void if he’s there, but he wont turn down an opportunity to throw a blow at any of them.
So, one of the things that fuels speculation that Casca might be destined to use that Behelit is that... when it comes out, and they’re talking about it, she seems to be drawn to it for no real reason, right, like she just comes walking toward them making interested noises and Farnese has to pull her away.
The obvious counter would be that she comes out because Flora is about to talk about her and Guts’ mission to protect her, but she didn’t really need to be there for that – people talk about Casca and Guts’ relationship or his intentions with regards to her without her being there all the time.
It’s interesting. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but given Miura’s ways it wouldn’t surprise me if it did.
He didn’t listen when Godot told him this before, no way he’s listening now.
But really she doesn’t seem to be trying to tell him to give it up, which doesn’t surprise me – she’s a friend of Skull Knight’s, so I’m sure she understands how pointless arguing with someone in this situation can be.
“The fate associated with it rests in the hands of its master who sent it.” I assume that’s IoE but it does highlight the fact that Slan seemed to be able to affect its reaction/availability to Guts.
When I try to figure out who the behelit might belong to, though, I admit I have a kind of difficult time imagining who it could be aside from Casca or Guts. If it’s Guts, then I would expect it’s there for him to ultimately resist, thus finally breaking the chains of fate that he’s been fighting but accidentally getting further caught in for years. If it’s Casca, on the other hand, I think that ends badly for her. There’s a small chance that such an option could appear for her to give her the chance to turn it down as well, but I’m not sure I believe that she has it in her.
I also can’t think of anyone else that the behelit would really fit in a way that advances the story/moves toward the fulfillment of the narrative promise, really. So I still think the best bet is Casca, though that doesn’t guarantee it obviously. If it’s Guts, on the other hand... well, I guess he’s craving his power right now, isn’t he? I mean in current chapters.
I feel you, Guts.
But no, I gather she means that they’re the servants of the Idea of Evil (unnamed but still), and that they’re mysteries because humans can’t go to where they are, even in astral form, thus they remain mysterious.
Okay translation rant. I wanted to make sure that “If he is the Hawk of Darkness, then he is dreadful” was actually accurate, which it is KIND OF?
What Schierke is saying is
あの者が黙示録に記された五番目の御使いが受肉した姿。。。闇の鷹なのだとしたら者恐るべきことです。
That person is the [incarnated form] of the fifth angel written down in the [Book of Revelation]. If (he’s) the Hawk of Darkness he is.... [dreadful]
So a couple of things. I’m showing dictionary definitions because it’s good to show receipts, lmao.
-The word translated as incarnation is specifically the incarnation of Christ.
-The word used for revelation is specifically the Book of Revelation, though it also means Apocalypse – Utena fans may remember it:
-Finally, the phrase translated here as “dreadful”,
So it does mean dreadful but also fearsome, formidable, like a dangerous or difficult adversary.
So okay one thing I notice about Miura is that he liked to use ambiguous phrasing – the phrase translated as “you’re the only one who made me forget my dream” for example, also means “you’re the only one who let me forget my dream.” Similarly, the word translated as “evil” in a lot of places in Berserk also means “magic” or a supernatural force of some kind, and sometimes it makes more sense that they’d mean magic but the translation still says evil.
I’ll be honest, I think he did it on purpose. Because for example a sentence that means both “let me forget” and “made me forget” reflects the conflict within Griffith himself about Guts’ impact on him and how it affected his goals, which were both burdensome and meant to be his most important thing. So in the discussion of which way it was intended to be read, my main thought is “both.”
How this relates to this sentence is just this: It’s translated as dreadful which isn’t inaccurate but in the context of the discussion Schierke and Flora are having, Schierke isn’t talking about how awful and deplorable the fifth angel is, she’s talking about how Guts has to be crazy to go against him because he’s absurdly powerful. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think her statement is meant to evoke how terrifying he is, either. But even so, and this isn’t the translator’s fault because English doesn’t work the same way Japanese does, but... I can’t help thinking that just saying “dreadful” makes it sound like she’s just saying “he’s awful and deplorable” rather than that he’s a frightening opponent or person. And that doesn’t make sense because Schierke was previously shown to be sort of unsure about whether he would be the savior or (something) else.
It’s also interesting that he doesn’t name some random prophecy but rather the biblical Book of Revelation. And that he didn’t have Schierke refer to Griffith with a normal “incarnation” or “bodied form” or whatever – because there are words for that – but rather as specifically the incarnation of Christ. It does make it very clear (VERY clear) that Griffith here is envisioned as the Berserk equivalent of a Christ-figure as predicted by the Berserk equivalent of the Bible. The fact that he’s served by, you know, apostles should also be a clue about this, but I know people like to suggest he’s an antichrist instead, but I mean...
He’s both isn’t he? I mean I know I’ve talked about this enough but it does make sense that in a world where God is the Idea of Evil, the Christ-equivalent would be a more complicated figure as well.
I just think it’s interesting like... Miura uses a lot of Catholic concepts and imagery in Berserk, but they don’t always mean the same thing as they do in the real-world religion. People often try to read Berserk with I guess real world Christianity in mind, and I get it because of the very obvious parallels, but I do think it’s a bit of a trap.
The thing I wonder a lot – although I guess it’s more like I think about it a lot than that I wonder about it – is the relationship between Skull Knight and Flora. Later I’ll ponder on it in greater depth but it’s interesting to me that even after seeing what happened to Gaiseric she still has this belief that fate can be countered. It’s very different than, say, Skull Knight who kind of lets slip during the death of Elfhelm that fate often cannot be overcome, but that people fight anyway because it’s just the nature of humanity to fight fate (and lose).
Flora’s view echoes Guts’ though, from the Conviction arc when he said he doesn’t believe in causality because he and Casca were meant to die but didn’t. On the other hand... is that really true? Like, Zodd said death would come for him – a death he cannot escape. But Skull Knight was the one who implied to him (right after he left the Hawks) that he could survive it. And if you think about it, given that the demon child/moonkid became Griffith’s vessel there’s a good argument that Casca was always meant to survive, too.
So. I know a lot of people take Flora’s word as gospel, but a lot of characters say things that contradict so they can’t all be right. Though I do think there’s a decent argument that she’s the least biased and her view possibly reflects the attitude that Miura himself brought to the table since he did say he wanted there to be hope in the story, as well.
This has nothing to do with anything but the sylph thing kind of freaks me out. I don’t think I could wear clothing that’s coated in little “living” things, eep.
And honestly, wtf is wrong with Puck? HOW DOES HE NOT KNOW THIS, HE’S FROM ELFHELM.
I have such conflicted feelings about how Farnese and Casca just got some silver shirts (and a silver knife). Because the thing is, I understand that Casca uh probably can’t trusted with a weapon right now, and that Farnese isn’t a fighter at all. But I still feel like some kind of, say, elementally empowered weapon would be helpful for Farnese at least, considering how often these two get kidnapped or spirited away or trapped in dangerous situations.
I wonder what the axe did.
This lead in to the thing where his sword is kind of magical from fighting magical things is pretty interesting to me because... for years the theory was that his sword could hurt Griffith because of that. And it seemed like a decent theory but of course is proven completely wrong on every level. Misdirection! That is, unless the “he cut a hair off of Griffith’s head” theory turns out to be true but that seems increasingly unlikely since it hasn’t come up at all.
By having the brand, Guts and Casca are basically just walking around in the afterlife all the time – at least the edges of it, so I guess they ended up in tune with the dead even though they themselves didn’t literally die. It seems the Apostles also kind of walk that line, which makes sense given their connection to “hell” or whatever. It’s kind of wild to think about the house they’re hanging around in not technically existing in a physical sense.
I mean in fairness he only left her behind once, it was just a really long time.
Anyway, this just reminds me of the time I got that Ask from someone kind of ranting about how Guts has to be with Casca because she’s the only reason he’s still human, which was kind of stupid. Don’t get me wrong, I recognize that protecting her is a strong motivating factor for him, but obviously he was already fighting to remain human for the entire series and I also think... the path he has chosen as a defender and as someone who no longer throws his connections away is as much a part of his continued humanity as Casca herself, specifically – that’s why the Beast always tells him to ditch the whole crew not just Casca.
Also, as I recall, Flora had some knowledge that she was going to be killed soon which... I imagine made it somewhat relieving for her to not have to explain why Casca couldn’t stay there. Also...
It lends this bit a poignancy.
Okay so... I often wonder about the specifics of Flora and Skull Knight’s relationship... and to be more specific whether her role in his life was similar to Schierke’s role in Guts’ life. Was she his spiritual anchor before he got eaten by the darkness? If so then you could say she failed, which Schierke is also in danger of doing in current canon since Guts is losing his shit.
There are so many things that make me sad about Miura’s passing. There’s the obvious human element in itself, but there’s also things like how he talked about doing an arc of the Skull Knight’s history, and how on the DVD for the memorial edition ova, a note came up saying things he says may no longer be applicable. I mean for obvious reasons. But does that mean we’ll never know the deal? I hope not. I want to know what Flora did that got her exiled from Elfhelm and what Skull Knight’s goal really is... I mean this is whiny because everyone has the same concerns and thoughts, but you know, just thinking.
And there it is – bringing to question whether Guts is actually acting in free will or not. Because what I get from this is that Flora asks him why he’s trying to get Guts to do certain things or go certain places, and whether it’s because he feels sympathetic or for some selfish reason, and Skull Knight is basically like, even if I didn’t personally lead him around, he may well be led by causality anyway.
It reminds me of the guidebook noting that Skull Knight seemed to be trying to lead Guts in a certain direction.
I think Skull Knight is ultimately meant to be a cautionary tale for Guts, like... this is what he becomes if he doesn’t let go of his anger and choose his connections and humanity instead... which is not what Gaiseric did back in the day. This does kind of make me wonder to what degree I just talk myself around thinking Guts primarily relies on Casca for humanity though, because one major difference between them seems to be that Casca didn’t die but Skull Knight’s wife or whoever that was did.
Although I guess that’s odd too because Dannan seems to be his ex in some way that isn’t wholly literal.
And this is a really interesting bit for me, because it’s Flora continuing/finishing her comment earlier about God giving them fate – the fate called encounters. So when she tells Schierke God gives us fate and we humans choose it, you can suppose that she isn’t so much talking about Schierke being destined to do such and such but rather she’s talking about Schierke having the option to accept the opportunity to know and involve herself in this story or not.
Also, a final little thought-break – the way the witches here talk about God is interesting to me because it does seem like they buy into the “religion” of the world in a way you wouldn’t necessarily expect, right, like Flora directly references fate being sent by God. They also refer to the God Hand as angels, and later Schierke will explain that the element kings are basically biblical archangels by another name.
And that goes back to all religions are one religion – the same elements with different names and viewed through different prisms but nonetheless the same beings. I kind of think of the different religions within Berserk’s world as... looking at something from one angle vs another angle. Like if you stand in front of something it looks one way and you can only see the front and part of the sides, whereas if you stand to the side you see its side and only part of its front and back, etc. Point being, it’s still the same thing, it’s just that different perspectives or belief systems “see” and name different parts of it.
That thought leads me down some interesting rabbit holes with Berserk though.
Anyway, next up, trolls.
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tlou hbo ep.4 & ep.5 thoughts.
more analyze-y than the others ones because i’m talkin thru my damn feelings >:,(
getting ep. 4 outta the way real quick because it was mostly setting up for ep. 5 but also i didn’t get to rewatch it since last sunday so memory’s fuzzy.
i’ve seen people have mixed reactions to ep.4 and i get it, because it was so different to how it played out in the game. biggest breaking point from game-joel was a) him talking about tess (which i felt broke a rule for his character) and b) him being openly kind to ellie. being soft with her when she shoots the hunter. laughing at her joke. these aren’t the end of the world. i can see how it was all to show he’s warming up to ellie but it did still feel odd.
i do kinda get the sense that him being mean old joel would wreck the momentum and tone, since we’re not watching pre-rendered cutscenes sandwiched between gameplay segments. you can’t have the danger happening and THEN joel’s yelling at ellie. that’s just TENSION TENSION TENSION; him being nice and open was a good way to balance things out and give us (and ellie) a breather.
so ep. 5. i have to fuckin take deep breaths.
once again, i can’t fucking believe that i can know exactly what’s going to happen and this show will still floor me. i’m broken over the immediacy that henry killed sam with, different from henry talking out his thoughts in the game. his scared, stammered “what did i do?” as he looks to joel, because he can’t believe what he just did.
when i look back to game-henry, it wasn’t emphasized all that much that he was pretty much still a kid, taking care of a kid. show-henry had plenty of those moments. both versions are cocky but the cockiness show-henry has was more kid-like, especially in his interactions with joel, and it only made it hit harder when he looked at him in those last moments, as if for help, and when joel tried to gently get the gun away from him. i’m very glad for them amping up the connection between joel and henry.
the choices they made with sam were amazing. the kid was a great actor and i love seeing all the extra bits that came with him being deaf. i knew it wouldn’t matter all that much that he was younger and deaf; what mattered at the end of the day was his connection with ellie and they fuckin knocked it out of the park. i love that even without them being close in age, they latched onto each other anyway.
the bit with ellie’s blood was such an interesting change. because that was a stellar way of showing despite her maturity, she’s still a kid too. you can tell she really believed she could save him.
this coupled with sam’s superhero fixation...god. the thought of him thinking of her as a hero because of that.
another big change was showing ellie’s reaction to henry’s suicide, instead of joel’s like the game. in the game, i think it was to remind joel about the fragility and impermanence of good things. the show’s not really joel city, they can’t really keep it on him the whole time because that’s boring. not to mention, it’s about more than him. in the show, you can tell it’s to show the impact it’s going to have on ellie’s journey.
i wasn’t a big fan of kathleen initially -- felt she wasn’t intimidating enough as a leader -- but as we saw her more in ep. 5, i was disgusted with her, which is good! i do like the complexity of her, how she’s the leader of this big resistance movement but also seemed unsure and grasping in a lot of moments (of which surprisingly did not include the moments where she ordered people to be killed or argued that ellie and sam should die because “kids die”).
brief note, the child clicker was cool but like...a bit farfetched right?? i mean unless she was bit as a baby and has just been turning since then? aside from that, i do like that she foreshadowed sam’s turning in a way. kid infected is such a gutpunch.
another thing i liked were the parts ripped straight from the gameplay. just watching joel reach the house with the sniper in it caused a lotta moments where i was like “OH YEA THAT HAPPENED.”
WHEN THE INFECTED CAME OUTTA THE GROUND??? i was like “OH YEA THAT WAS PART OF IT.” this show’s great. i love seeing the funny ways they tie back to the game.
all the episodes have been good so far but it really seems like the odd-numbered ones have consistently been bangers.
NEXT ONE THO. JACKSON TIME. TOMMY. MARIA. LET’S GOOO >:)
#tlou hbo#tlou hbo spoilers#this helped me talk out my feelings wowie#i was big sad#now i'm small sad#talkies#thinkies
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@questionablemuses Blitz couldn't shake the shitty feeling ever since the whole Chaz incident. It felt like he needed to come clean & not just to Moxxie & Millie because they already knew. Chaz was not good, at all. In fact, he made him feel absolutely disgusting after the whole ordeal. & That's why he was there, climbing up as usual on the balcony of Stolas' palace.
Maybe he should go over his lines first? No, that usually ended up messy if the other person walked in as soon as you finished speaking. He needed to get this right & not mess things up.
No matter how mad Stolas might be. Fuck.
"Stolas?" He pauses, stepping into the palace more. He does keep a safe distance just in case he wasn't welcomed. "Stolas, I - can we talk?" ( @ questionablemuses :3 )
The cool night air was always Stolas favorite, house robe on as he had discarded his formal wear long ago. Stolas was home now meaning he could just be at ease and relax. The mansion was quite often well nearly. But it had become even more so that Stella had moved out. The last of her belongings finally out of Stolas sight. Thank Satan for that. If he had to look at anything that resemble so much as being hers? He might chuck it in the damn fire place at this point. A heavy sigh escapes his beak as he makes his way towards the back down of his room that lead out to the balcony.
A glass of wine in his hand that he idly stirs in his hold as he looks up to the stray sky above. Via was with Stella currently, the imps that worked under him long left for the night. Stolas was well alone. Nothing new he guesses, course that doesn't mean much he often felt it even when in company of many. He sighs and simply takes a sip from his glass. Wishing to relax and settle before turning in for the night.
Hand waved to draw his book over his way, he figured he could get a bit of work down the easy stuff that he always tend to leave it last minute. He felt he would have more free time as of late. No Stella meant less means of demons to entertain. Stepping out eyes lowered to the pages he doesn't even notice the imp outside till hearing his name spoken.
"Stolas?"
Nearly chocking on his wine mostly out of being startled at the sudden appearance of another demon let alone Blitz on his balcony. He should be a bit more used to it but with recent events it been sometime since the imp had been around. Stolas nearly chocked on his wine but managed to swallow it down with only a minor need to cough to clear his throat. As he tried to offer a smile a little unsure why they were even here. It wasn't a full moon for one. He tries smoothing over his feathers and adjusting his robe a little. Habit wanting to look a bit more presentable. Sure they seen him in far less and in more unkempt states but he still would like to look nice.
"Not that I'm not delighted to see you Blitz-" no no not Blitzy remember, "Blitz" He settled on hoping to cover the near slip of his beak. "But um why are you here? So late at that?" He slightly folds his arms over his chest and offers a tilt of his head. Blitz seemed to have an odd expression on their face? He looks the imp over a moment trying to see for any signs of harm. Through if they climb up here they shouldn't be hurt.
"Stolas, I - can we talk?"
"hmm of course?" he answers as a question not sure how to take the imps tone just then he steps to the side a moment and waves out his hand for Blitz, signing for them to come in. As he goes in after them, he looks at his room a moment and finds it not the best place before stepping ahead of the imp "Why don't we go to the kitchen? I can set up some tea? help warm you up?" Stolas hated not knowing how to be around the imp but he truly was at a loss here. "Might help settle you as well" he points out making it clear he can tell something is at least up with them as he softly smiles at the imp and motions them to follow him. It had to be important if they came to see him after all. Though the owl tries not to get ahead of himself. Both in worrying of it being something bad and of course, something good. That would just get his hopes up after all.
#muse| stolas#questionablemuses#[ all i hear is heartbreak on the way -questionablemuses]#muse interaction#ic reply#stay queued#[closed]#(( >:3 this first))#((uwu stolas gonna be hurt give it to meeeee >>))
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4, 7, 13, 17 for the Octopath asks
4.Favorite overall path?
Castti was my main and I think she's my favorite of the playable characters overall by a fair amount.
She's such a kind soul but also capable of understated and/or explicit sass, as shown at various times during her interactions with Edmund, Partitio, and Andy. I've seen so many series where the helpless doctors serve as a side character, failing to convince people to take the plague seriously until the mc steps in. So it was refreshing to see Team Asano take that dynamic and go, "Hmm, but what if the doctor had a massive axe and agency?"
There's also a lot of casual coolness to some of her lines, like the bit where she says, "I'm going to have a word with that antlion." With all the collected poise of someone about to talk to a landlord about getting their sink fixed. I'm convinced she has a very supremely high Karen power level but will only use it for good.
I think I encountered a post pre-release warning people off headcanoning her as the momfriend of the group ala Ophelia, but c'mon, the writers had two separate characters literally call her mom. More people than call Osvald "Papa", I think.
Also having Castti in the group meant concocting and the sweet, sweet pomegranate was always close at hand.
(There's not a character in the main playable cast I really dislike.
7. Favorite default job?
Gotta be merchant. Bifelgan's MONEY LASER is a cool effect, and Hired Help is hilarious, somehow fitting Partitio even more than it did Tressa, since he's all about getting a posse together whereas Tressa goes on mostly a solo trek. And of course it allows for extreme meta comedy when used in a spot such as Hikari's duel with his inner darkness.
Digressing, but I did a solo Tressa run of OT1 including all 4 optional job bosses and it was part of my strats for all four. Winnehild actually was surprisingly vulnerable to the poison/blind 2-fer the Dancer summon has. I felt it was less useful in the OT2 early game, but somehow became an even more busted skill with the ability to do automatic shield damage (Beastlings) or 9999 plus a stat debuff (Foreign Assassin).
(Castti and Ochette were probably the most dynamically fun characters to use, but that was less because of their default job skills but more because concoction and monster friends had so much strategic potential.
13.Favorite soundtrack?
Hollow Empty Memories was a great track that was exactly the right kind of light yet haunting mix of bell sounds for the shell-shocked mood Castti chapter 3 put me in. I think I just sat there staring at my screen for a solid five minutes after drinking that ending monologue in and the music just washed over me in a really emotional way.
Shoutouts to my two runner-ups:
A. Ochette, the Hunter
-Ochette's theme kicks whatever one needs to kick to be really freaking cool.
B. Invitation to Darkness
-Great building pipe organ backbeat to set up for that ominous final Vidania confrontation.
17. Best relationship/dynamic between 2 characters (& elaborate!)?
Partitio/Ori
I liked Ori for a series of immediate and very specific personal reasons on meeting the character. You had that bold, plucky tone of voice she used when introducing herself in chapter 2, the way she tends to show up and freak Partitio out, and the way she gradually went from a neutral observer to someone who decided to spend some time helping him out, to eventually sticking her neck out for him by distracting the guards on Roque Island. And the way the last 3 chapters of Partitio's story are told through her eyes via the newspaper articles gives you even more time with her penchant for cheeky wordplay with a touch of steam-era slang. I warmed up to her character so much in such a short time.
And then it got better.
Journey for the Dawn was a massive "Yes, and…" to all of that characterization, showing you how the plucky reporter persona was an act she put on in the narrative equivalent of getting smacked in the ribs with a tire iron. Then they double up on it again by showing she switches back into puppy dog writing style when talking about her time with Partitio, even within her private diary. And then you actually see her pull back on the ritual and I'm going to cry all over again.
If there's some extra story scenes that get released a year and a half later ala what happened with Triangle Strategy, just know that I need these two specifically to interact.
(I also loved Castti/Malaya but the question was best and I will absolutely pick favorites.)
#octopath traveler 2 spoilers#octopath traveler 2#spoilers#castti florenz#partitio x ori#Thanks for the ask!
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* / PLAYLIST ━ /
♫ ─ 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒕 .
𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒈 • 10 𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀, 34 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝘂𝘁𝗲𝘀
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩.
exploring jack and all he is, 1 of a hundred step process. jack’s presence is comfortable like a tight hug, cozy blankets and the candle scents you love. overall it’s not a secret that his surface is soft, he goes deeper and stronger than he comes across on the surface. i’d like to explore that by starting first with this! what most people see except expanded a bit. the package is effortless, almost perfect but beneath the surface, he’s first and foremost, a person you can feel at ease with. he speaks slow, because he’s stupid and because he’s exhausted, he touches seldom except when it counts, and he smiles only for the purpose of making others smile.
playlist: songs with a meaning to who jack is, that sound and feel like the person you might find just beyond the surface, when you’re first getting to know him. these are the easy entry into who jack is tracks. a look closer, but not inside. mostly songs with emotional centers and easy listening, much like the man himself.
hcs: it’s general aesthetics, concepts, words and feelings that remind me of jack at a one-step-closer level.
𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘴 （（ 𝗮𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗰 ＋ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ＋ 𝐡𝐜 ））
jack in a 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈
jeans you’ve worn in and feel most comfortable in.
gnawing on the inside of your cheek when you’re deep in thought or without thinking.
stop motion.
sunrise in the morning, sunrays waking you up with a kiss but you’re too tired to hear it.
popping of logs on a fire, kindling making sparks. the glow that becomes brighter when the wind blows.
holes in a sweater.
sluggish and slow speech patterns, deep, quiet, unhurried.
smudged glasses but too lazy to clean them.
a perfectly tuned instrument, greased, cleaned, in sync, making cleanly and exactly the sound you wanted.
leaning into someone taller than you.
gritted teeth.
firm, indisputable truths.
awkward, bubbling laughter that starts loud and gets quieter and quieter.
dedicating something to someone.
morning jogs. working out until your muscles are sore.
tripping over something you left lying on the ground that you told yourself you wouldn’t forget.
smiling at the sound of someone’s laugh.
writing too hard on paper so that the lead tip of your pencil breaks. the indentions it leaves on the next page like ghost prints.
the scent of seafoam, cool, salty, light, sandy. the way it melts between your fingers under the heat of your skin.
typing a message, staring at it too long until you second guess and erase to start over.
fresh ice water in your favorite cup.
the tender touches and hugs that come when you make up with someone after an argument. when someone wipes your tears and anger dissipates or gently pats your back.
silky, messy hair that’s always in your eyes.
collecting timepieces. “the right watch” for every new day. different ones for different moods.
slightly oversized clothes, comfortable and cozy clothes that you can sleep in.
taking a long pause, then starting all over again with a different approach.
burning the ends of yarn, thread, fabric, to keep it from unraveling.
the lethargic feeling in the morning, going through motions without using complex thought, all motions and no meaning.
coffee when it’s too hot to drink so you just breathe it in and wait patiently.
taking a breath so deep it hurts your chest.
liking a song so much you put it on repeat.
natural colors, warm earth tones and cool neutrals.
not knowing your own strength.
everything feeling just a bit more when it’s 3am. more inspired. more sad. more funny. more hungry.
desperately wanting to win. working up a sweat trying to be the last one standing.
holding the door for someone.
high quality fabrics, well made clothes.
rich and savory scents and linger, smelling food for another room or across a house and knowing it’ll be time to eat soon ♥.
having a lucky number.
sweaters, cardigans, hoodies and overcoats.
a half made bed, blankets and pillows fluffed quickly and thoughtlessly.
blankets wrapped around your legs and between your thighs.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
jack in a 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅
ASTROBOY. ━ SUGGI
i grew up loving the stars
though they taught me to hate the night
back of my mind, loving the dark
always wanting to touch the moon
BE RIGHT THERE ━ KUNGS, STARGATE, JOSH GOLDEN
when the lights go down, and the stars come out
i’ll be right here, i’ll be right here
under stars girl, underwater, when you can’t breathe
i’ll be here for you
when it’s past three in the morning and you can’t sleep
:M (MIND) ━ ALEX
how are you? I’m fine
same answer today
when are you going to give me a longer answer?
i’m melting my frozen heart again and my mouth is coming out.
i’m so :m
SLEEP MODE ━ BERNARD PARK
pullin’ up
my sheets over my head
even when the sun is bright
locked up and i can’t get out
ye i know it’s only her
whose gonna set me free
get me back up on my feet
SWEET NIGHT ━ ORIGIN (V)
if you
are too good to be true
and would it be alright if i
pulled you closer
how could i know
one day i’d wake up feeling more
but i had already reached the shore
STAY ━ GAHO
please, stay by my side
please, stay by my side
if you stay like that, like that
please wrap me again
in the words of your belief in me
I’D BE SAD IF YOU WERE GONE ━ SLCHLD
did i put you down
it was an accident i swear
where are you now?
don’t go yet.
you have to endure the pain that’s coming.
don’t go
NO ONE TOLD ME WHY ━ ALEPH
tell me why do i always hang onto something
things that are about to collapse, days that have passed by
if you love me, please tell me now
please love me before it’s too late
I.L.Y ━ THE ROSE
after a tiring day
it’s always your smile
every time i’m with you
i feel comfortable
I SWEAR I’LL NEVER LEAVE AGAIN ━ KESHI
mirror on the wall, can you tell me who i am?
i think that i forgot, so remind me once again
maybe i was going too fast
babe, i’d give it all to go back
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Creating My Own Version of the Pat McGrath Mothership XI Palette
If you haven’t checked out my YouTube channel, then something you need to know about me is that I love the Pat McGrath Mothership palettes. I own the first ten (nine of which were given to me as gifts by my husband and my mother-in-law). I’ve lusted after these palettes for years, though I never actually thought I would own so many of them.
Since “completing” my collection at the beginning of this year, I’ve had no desire to add to my Mothership collection. I also wondered if the brand would end the line at ten palettes, mostly because the last three received a lot of criticism for being too similar and too pink, but here we are with number eleven.
(This picture belongs to Pat McGrath, I just took a screenshot off the website.)
Upon seeing this palette for the first time, it immediately reminded me of Divine Rose I and II (the seventh and eighth palette). Everything appears to have some level of rosy pink to it, with the exceptions of the dark matte brown (bottom row, first shade) and the gold (bottom row, last shade). I can acknowledge this palette is pretty, but it’s painfully boring and repetitive, especially since I have every other Mothership palette. Without trying, I know I could easily dupe, or at least come extremely close to, this new palette with the Pat McGrath eyeshadows I already own.
Furthermore, the name of this palette—Sunlit Seduction—speaks to its wasted potential, in my opinion. Sunlit Seduction. I saw the name and was overwhelmed with the idea of what this palette could have been. Sunsets and sunrises came to mind, with their bold, fiery, warm color palettes, with just a hint of blues and purples. I spent some time Googling sunsets and sunrises, along with noting the names of the original eyeshadows, and set to work creating my vision of this palette.
By the way, there is a video of me building this palette up on my channel, if you’d like to check it out.
I used the names of the original eyeshadows as additional inspiration for what colors I wanted to use in my version of the palette. I’ll talk about the eyeshadows going top to bottom, left to right. The first shade is called Skintense Radiance, and it appears to be a champagne metallic with a pink undertone. I felt this should have been more yellow, something more sunshine-y, so I opted for a pastel yellow metallic. This is a franken-shadow I mixed together a while ago, and I don’t remember what went into it.
Next was Nude Rose. This felt too cool-toned, almost mauve. Looking at the sunrise/sunset pictures, some of the pinks do lean somewhat purple, but more like a lilac and not mauve. There were also a lot of warm pinks, although the majority seemed softer than I was imagining. I settled on this warm, peachy pink called Eden. The pigment is soft, but still bold, which mimicked the pink in the pictures really well.
Then we have Hypnotic Bronze. I’m not a fan of these orange-leaning bronzes/coppers, like what’s in the original palette, and which Pat McGrath insists on including in so many of her palettes. Also, bronze, the metal, can look blue and green. In the sunrises especially, I was seeing hints of pastel green, and thought this would be a good opportunity to include a small flash of green in the palette. The eyeshadow I included is called Crystal, and it’s got a pinkish brown base color with lots of green and blue shimmer.
Onto our first “special” shade, called Astral Pink Fetish. Another eyeshadow color I’m not a fan of is pink to gold duochromes, and no amount of sparkle—and this one seems to have a lot—will change that. This is also a duochrome that we see a lot from Pat McGrath, which makes this “special” shade the least special in the palette. I wanted to keep the pink but wanted the finish to be more blue/purple, so I went with Good Gawd for this shade. Even though this isn’t the same formula as Pat McGrath’s “special” shades, this eyeshadow is definitely special in its own way, and I felt it would replace that particular formula really well.
Then we have Blitz Crimson Ecstasy, which is the most disappointing shade in the palette. Nothing about the original eyeshadow says “crimson”. It’s incredibly pink and seems to have very little red actually in it. I have a few really lovely metallic reds, but I chose to go with a multichrome, which is called Lucid. It’s a black-based multichrome that shifts purple, magenta, red, orange, gold, and a hint of green at the end. I felt this really embodied the vibe I was trying to go for, especially the sunset side of things, and I wish the brand would include some bolder multichromes in their palettes.
Next was Xtreme Vermillion, which isn’t vermillion in the slightest. The color vermillion is more of a red-orange, leaning more towards red. The eyeshadow in the palette is a dark, warm brown. To be fair, I also didn’t go with a real vermillion, but I did want a primary red matte. One day, I hope Pat McGrath puts out some bolder colorful mattes like this one, called Button Bush, so I suppose this decision was partially driven by wishful thinking. I also love a good, matte, primary red, and I felt this was a good palette to include it in.
Next was Copper Dawn, which looks more gold than the bronze, but still very warm and orangey. My vision for this palette warranted a strong gold, but I didn’t want anything too yellow, or that leans orange. The one I chose, called 365, is a gold with brown undertone, giving it a bronzier look. It also has a subtle green finish, which, I think, added something interesting to the palette.
Then we have Sienna Mystique, which is a warm, midtone brown matte. Looking at the color sienna, it’s more of a burnt orange, so that’s what I went for. I considered going a little more neutral, but the brightness of this shade, called Enigma, embodied the fieriness of a sunset really well.
Probably the only shade in the entire palette that I enjoy is Astral Amethyst Allure. It’s a hazy kind of purple, lots of sparkle, and has a pink finish. My initial instinct was to dupe this shade, but I didn’t have anything close, so I went with a grungier brownish purple with lots of silver glitter, called Wild & Free. It has a similar vibe to the original shade, but adds an interesting amount of grunginess to the palette that I quite enjoy.
Finally, we have Astral Gilded Aura, which is a sparkly gold. It looks really bright, but also like a glittery gold in the Mothership X. For this shade, I chose to put my dislike of orangey metallics aside and opted for a gold with an orange base, called Stardust. It’s similar to 365, but the base color is bright, more red-orange, and it’s got a strong gold finish.
This is far from my usual color story. I’m much more drawn to greens, blues, purples, and greys, so this warm, orangey palette is out of my comfort zone, but I think I like it. It’s at least more interesting than Pat McGrath’s version, so I’m counting this as a win for that reason alone.
I’ll leave you with some swatches. The eyeshadow names, as well as their palettes, will be listed below (written in order from top to bottom, left to right, in the palette).
Yellow franken-shadow
Eden - Anastasia Beverly Hills Prism palette
Crystal - Beauty Bay Book of Magic palette
Good Gawd - J.D. Glow single
Lucid - Chaos Makeup multichrome
Button Bush - Ace Beaute Floral Vintage palette
365 - J.D. Glow single
Enigma - Blend Bunny Blends palette
Wild & Free - Dose of Colors single
Stardust - Beauty Bay Book of Magic palette
#byop#byops#building my own palettes#build your own palette#pat mcgrath#pmg#mothership#sunlit seduction#eyeshadow#eyeshadows#singles
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NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM, BOOK ONE: THE JOB - CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER ONE (Please read this first, for obvious reasons.)
IMPORTANT: Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: SHAYLINE
“You’re seriously going through with this?”
I stop mid-fold and take a deep breath before I turn to face Terue again. This is the third time I’ve had to stop packing up my gear to talk back to him, and it’s all I can do not to bite his head off at this point. I’m tense and tired and still a long way from recovered from the night before last, and the fatigue’s just making me cranky at this point.
It’s not his fault, though. Not really. He’s as frustrated as I am, I think. He’s still one of my best friends, he’s made that very clear ever since we managed to defuse the situation after the battle, but after everything there’s no denying that something’s definitely changed between us. We’d be fools to say it hasn’t.
In the end, though he’s just mad that he’s going to be losing me, and I feel the same. When I look up he’s putting a brave face on it, mostly he just looks concerned, but I can see the anger all the same, hands balled into fists the way they’ve been throughout this whole conversation. He has to unclench one to shove that ever-unruly lock of hair out of his face, but that in itself is enough giveaway, a familiar nervous tic I know well.
“Yes. I’m going through with it.” I sigh, trying to be as gentle as I can with my tone of voice even if I know I can’t with my words. “I can’t do this anymore, not now. I’m tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me, and having to do the same myself. Even my mother … she’s trying very hard to pretend that everything’s the same as it was before, but I know it’s not. Even if I was in the right … I turned on her. I turned on all of you.”
“Maybe you did, but you’re right there too, you were in the right. You had just cause to go against Min, she made a bad choice, and you fixed things before it got too bad.” He shrugs, but he’s still so tight, all the way through. “But that’s no reason to –”
“Oh for the god’s …” I throw my hands up with a growl and turn away from him fast, determined not to keep snapping at him. “I’m out of sorts, Terue, and so is everybody else. You’re still cool about it because you love me, because you’re kind of an idiot sometimes. In a good way. And I know there are others who are the same. But some … there’s too much bad blood now, and I’m tired. I can’t stay. Not now.”
“But them? You’re going with them. After what they did? Okay, okay …” He throws his own hands up, far more in supplication, when I turn back to him. “You’re right, they had just cause too, it couldn’t be helped, and you did say they tried not to. But seriously, these people, I mean … we tried to kill ‘em, and they tried to kill us right back. And now you’re all chummy and you’re gonna go with ‘em. I hate it. It makes no sense at all.”
That makes me grin a little, but there’s little humour to it. “I wouldn’t say we’re chummy. Some of them might be warming up to me, but there’s still a long way to go before I earn their trust. But they’re good people, in spite of what happened. And they offered in the first place, which is more than I expected. It was either go with them, or I’d have to light out on my own. And I am definitely not ready for that.”
Terue’s frown deepens. “So you’re leaving regardless. Even if they hadn’t made the offer, you’d still be going.”
My sigh is deeper this time, truly one of the weariest ones I’ve ever let out. “Yes, I most definitely am.” I return to my packing, folding the jerkin one last time before transferring it to the satchel and stuffing it in with the rest. Finally done. At last.
Min did the best she could to smooth things over in the hours after the battle finally came to an end, at least once we were finally able to dig ourselves out through the exit and stagger our way back up into the keep. In truth the fight had largely gone out of our people by then anyway, when we arrived in that big room again we found Driver 8 stood guard over the doorway while the few remaining survivors held an uneasy vigil from a very wary distance. Mostly they were just tending their wounded and trying not to seem anything like a threat. A few went for their weapons when we re-emerged, but Min was quickly able to wave them down, and at the time I think it was mostly just relief that it was all over that finally stayed their hands.
Similarly, when we reached the courtyard we found Yeslee camped out just inside the torn gateway, not even nocked anymore, a few more shot corpses sprawled outside while everyone else was maintaining what cover they could. The others were relieved to see her alive, especially given what we’d seen Grol had done to the staircase on our way down, but I can’t say I was very surprised, having seen just what she’s really capable of. Ultimately everyone else seemed as happy to stand down as those we’d encountered before.
Even so, the early hours of the morning were unbearably tense as everyone went about their after-battle business. From tending the wounded to feeding the fatigued survivors, not to mention seeing to a lot of dead on our side … to be honest I was almost relieved when I finally collapsed from my own exhaustion after the resurrection ritual. When I woke up in the early afternoon things had been brought to something like a resolution, and Kesla and her people were being treated mostly as barely tolerated guests as they tended to their own hurts. But things had definitely … changed for me and mine.
Walking on eggshells … yeah, that’s pretty much what it’s been like in the twenty-four hours since, and it definitely factored into my decision when I got up again this morning. People have been … unusually polite around me. I can see it all very much for what it is, no matter how carefully most of them are behaving. Some are as sorry for how it went down as I am, but others are still, clearly, pretty angry with me, a few barely able to hide their open hostility. Certainly those who’ve been warmest towards me have been my closest friends, like Terue and what’s left of my old crew, but even with them there’s been tension from things left unsaid. Conversations I’m definitely not willing to have.
It was worst with my mother, of course. She’s made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t think any differently about me now than she did before Ashsong entered our lives, but the more she says it the more clear it’s become that she’s really having trouble with it. That betrayal’s cutting into her as much as it does me, try as she might to sweep it under the rug, and it’s making our relationship worse than it’s ever been before. I can’t let it go on any more, in truth I think some distance can only help us right now. When I dropped that one on her she found it pretty difficult to argue with my logic.
Strapping up the satchel, I let it settle and turn to the sword-belt next to it on what I’m wary to continue calling my bed. I let the strap fall loose as I pick it up and thankfully it hasn’t tangled, so I’m able to buckle up with ease, surprised by how well it already fits me. Terue arches his brows looking down at it, and there’s some appreciation in his face now.
I wasn’t the one to deliver the killing blow to Ashsong, but Kesla didn’t want his sword afterwards, she’s happy with her own, and it is a magnificent weapon, mundane as it may be compared to this one. My reasoning was that Gael deserved it more than any of us, given how their own sacrifice won that fight more than anything else, but they didn’t want it either, saying it really isn’t their kind of thing. So I thought maybe Art should have it, since his own sword was broken in the fight, but he said it was too big for him, too unwieldy a handful like Kesla’s. So Kesla gave it to me instead, saying that, in the face of all the loss, she thought I deserved it more than anyone.
Truth be told, it is a beautiful weapon, fragile as it might look. Surprisingly heavy as well, although no more than a normal longsword, and it’s as strong as dwarven-forged spring steel, with similar flex, so I think its strange crystalline appearance is simply part of the enchantment it holds. I think I need to find out exactly what the weapon is capable of before I can really be comfortable using it, but I’ll admit that, the few times I’ve held it so far, it feels strangely at home in my hands.
“It looks good on you.” Terue says after a moment.
“Maybe. I think it came with more of a cost than I was willing to pay, so I’m not that comfortable with it yet.” I lie.
Terue cocks his brow a little. “I don’t know, you look more like your father with it than you did before.”
That gives me pause, and I study him for a few moments. For the first time I find myself wondering what my father might have thought about what I did, and for the life of me I can’t think of an answer. But a subtle part of me thinks that, perhaps, he might actually have approved, regardless of how it ultimately went.
With a sigh, I pick up my satchel and slip the strap over my head so it’s relatively snug, then shake my cloak out and whip it around so I can swing it up over my shoulders before buckling it in place. Then I pick up my pack and toss it to Terue, followed by my duffel bag. He gives me a pointed look when he barely catches the second, but doesn’t say what he’s obviously thinking. He did offer to help me with my gear, after all.
Finally, I pick up my old sword, cleaned, sharpened and oiled as it fits snug in its new scabbard, and look around the room for a moment. I feel no true nostalgia, I’ve spent plenty of nights here when we’ve inhabited the fortress but it’s never truly felt like a home, just a lodging in a way-station. I’m simply making sure I’m not leaving anything behind I’ll miss on the road.
“Not too late to change your mind, y’know.” Terue sighs, somewhat misreading my pause.
“Yes it is.” I mutter, mostly to myself, walking straight out of the room without bothering to close the door. After a moment I hear Terue’s scuffing footfalls as he scrambles to catch up to my long strides.
Moving through passages and descending stairs, I run into several people on the way, and by and large the interactions I have are swift, polite and more than a little strained, whether they’re definitely still friends or not. Those I feel genuinely raw about parting with I offer a few regret-filled farewells but still move on quickly. It’s only when I’m almost out of the main door into the courtyard that a calling voice brings me up short, but I would’ve stopped for this one if it was merely a whisper.
Nera has to double over a little bit, puffing as she gets her breath back once she reaches us, and we wait patiently for her to regain her composure. She looks me over for a moment when she’s straightened up again and there’s momentary uncertainty just behind her eyes that hurts to look at. It’s gone quickly, though, and all that’s left is a slightly admonishing smile. “Damn it, you walk so bloody fast.”
“Tell me about it.” Terue commiserates, but his tone is gently playful.
“What do you want me to do? Chop my legs down to a normal length? I can’t help being this tall.”
We share a little chuckle for a moment or two, but it still feels a little bittersweet. I can see it, Nera’s finding it hard to keep her smile, but it’s not the lingering disappointment or even anger I see in some of the others. She’s just sad, not that I betrayed her, even if I still feel I did. She’s just sad I’m leaving, just like Terue.
“How’s Lethna?” I ask once it starts to get uncomfortable, but it’s more for my own reassurance than to break the silence. I certainly wasn’t able to work up the courage to go check on her myself when I woke up again, it’s only been second-hand through Terue that I was even assured I didn’t kill her too. That’s still the thing I feel worst about from the other night, not even any of the lives I took.
“Still laid up, and uncomfortable, but she’s gonna be all right eventually, Nill’s sure of it now.” Lethna seems a little uneasy discussing this too, but she’s putting a brave face on. “That fancy cleric had a look at ‘er too, once he was on his feet again. He was sorry he couldn’t actually heal ‘er, but apparently he still ain’t got his mojo or whatever it is back yet.”
“Yeah, well he said it could be another day or so before he can do anything like that. Bringing Gael back nearly killed him.”
“You too, from what I heard.” She’s watching me closely now, not a hint of reproach left. “That was an incredibly brave thing you did.”
“For what it was worth.” I fall back against the wall beside the entrance, sighing heavily.
“Hey,” She steps up to me, reaches up with both hands to take my face and turn it to face hers. She has to crane a bit, she’s a lot shorter than me, but I indulge her. “Stop that. I don’t blame you for that, not for any of it. Neither do a lot of the others, not really. Your mother’s made that as clear as anyone else, that night was not your fault. The others’ll come round in time, but I won’t hear you put yourself down either. Stop punishing yourself.”
“But Lethna, and all the others …” My breathing hitches a little. “She hates me, doesn’t she.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s pissed at you, but she doesn’t hate you. We talked about it for a while, and she knows you didn’t want to do it any more’n she wanted to kill you. That shit just happened, and you didn’t have a choice. Yeah, she’s hurt, but … she’s alive, and she’ll get better. Worst is she’s got a good scar as a memento.” She shrugs as she steps back, giving me a rueful smile. “For some mad reason you fighters all like that shit.”
I can’t help smiling too at that, weak and pathetic as it might feel on my face. I can’t hold onto it for long though, and I sigh as I push away from the wall again. “I’m still sorry, though. About what happened to you. I’m relieved you’re okay, and your little one, but … I’m still sorry.”
“Don’t do that, that wasn’t your fault either. Your new friend’s already apologised about that, they were proper repentant about it. It was kind of adorable, actually.”
“Yeah, Gael’s a bit … they’re far too young for this, if I’m honest.” I shrug, starting to feel a little better now. “Okay, I’ll try. I promise. I’m just sorry I won’t be around to help you bring this little one into the world.” I put my hand to her belly, still mostly flat and tight, far too early for it to really show yet.
“You’ll come back though, won’t you? You ain’t just gonna ride off and we’ll never see you again, that ain’t fair. I won’t let you.”
Shit … I look at her for a long time, then turn to Terue and see the same hurt uncertainty in his face. The worry that our friendship’s about to end, which is something none of us want, especially me. Gods, I wish I could give them some ironclad promise to keep them going. “I don’t know, really. I’ll try, that’s the best I can give you both. When I can, I’ll try to come back. If only so I can see what that little one turned out like.”
Nera’s on the verge of tears now, I can tell, but she’s fighting it. She manages a shaky smile, muttering: “You better, you big dumb oaf.” Then she can’t hold off anymore, she just throws herself forward and wraps her arms around me and I fold her into a tight hug. We hold onto each other for a long time, both squeezing as hard as either of us dare, and somehow neither of us burst into tears, but I think I’m finding it as hard as Nera must.
She pulls away first, wiping her face quickly as she steps back, and she looks at me for several moments, like she’s committing my face to memory. As if she even needed to, we’ve been thick as thieves for years. “Goodbye.” She barely breathes it, and I can tell she’s still fighting against just breaking down and sobbing right here, then she just walks off without another word. I open my mouth, wanting to call after her, but stop myself, letting her go.
There’s a weight in my chest now, settling in like it wants to stay, and I feel the tears prickling my eyes now. I cast a sidelong glance at Terue, who’s watching me closely, and finally I can’t hold it off anymore. “Fuck …” The word comes out in a sob, and he drops my duffle as he jumps forward, folding me into his arms as I just give in to the opening floodgates.
He rubs my back and gently shushes me as he holds me up. We’re of a height, but while I’m light for someone with orc blood thanks to my father, he’s still a good deal skinnier than me. Even so, he does an admirable job of holding me up as I bawl into his shoulder.
It’s not just parting with my friends, although that has something to do with it. It’s everything, altogether. I think this has been welling up in me for over a day already, and I just have to get it out before I can move on. The fatigue just held it at bay, I think, being so gods-damned dog-tired keeping me distracted until I just stopped thinking about it for more than a few minutes. Now it’s sprung, and it won’t let me off until I’ve had a good cry.
Fuck … I miss them. Tarrow, that poor bastard … he was too young, he didn’t deserve to die like that. He had his whole life ahead of him, didn’t even get a chance to do anything yet. And Garnon, moody, arrogant sod as they might’ve been … they were a good friend. Someone I could trust, that I could rely on no matter what I might’ve been facing.
But it’s Roe, that one hurts most. I know my mother’s cut up about that worse than all the other deaths we’ve suffered in this, although she’s tried hard not to show it. Roe was one in a million, I don’t know if I could ever find a friend like him again. Someone I can trust my life with, yes, but also someone I’d be willing to lay my own down for in a heartbeat. Stubborn bastard just didn’t give me the chance to try.
And now I’m going to ride off into a world I’ve only ever heard about second-hand from my parents with the very people I’d been trying to kill just a day before I took up arms with. What the fuck? That’s a strange twist of fate and no mistake …
My crying fit seems like it goes on for hours, but I doubt it claims me for more than a few minutes. When I’ve finally beaten it down again and got myself back under control Terue finally lets me go, and I take a deep breath that thankfully doesn’t break when I let it out again, swiping furiously at my eyes and nose with my sleeve. When I look up I expect to find him looking uncomfortable about the whole experience, but he’s just standing by, patient and calm, watching thoughtfully.
“Sorry about that.” I mutter after a moment.
“Don’t mention it. I feel a little weepy myself every once in a while. Dare say you got plenty more reason than I do right now.”
That makes me frown, but I don’t answer back. Instead I give his shoulder a companionable nudge and sigh: “Come on.”
Picking up my baggage, he falls into step behind me as I carry on out the door and into the courtyard. The bonfire’s blazing brightly now, far fewer desultory mourners standing around watching it than expected. I saw it piled high, dozens of corpses spread with kindling ready to burn, when I went back into my room earlier to collect my gear, and it made me feel pretty sick looking at it, but the feeling’s very different now, something more like a cold, dead weight in my gut. Gods, I can’t take that. I look away and do the best I can to ignore it as I skirt as far around the outskirt of the yards as I can to avoid passing through the majority of those who’ve stayed to watch.
The whole way I feel eyes on me, some looks more overt than others. I try not to look back, as much afraid of what I’ll see as I am of provoking a reaction from the openly hostile ones, but I can’t avoid it entirely. There’s resentment here, it’s unavoidable. That blaze is a testament to what we did here. What I did.
We make it to the far side of the yard unmolested and I quickly duck into the passage on the far side, the moderate slope of the tunnel prompting a little speed in my gait that has Terue scrambling once again to keep up. By the time we come out into the open on the other side he’s puffing a little from the effort of keeping up, but I keep going all the same. He decided he wanted to see me off, so he can bloody well work for it.
Emerging into the light once more we find ourselves in the lower courtyard, the wider passage through the gatehouse across the way, and I’m not surprised to find a small gathering of our people here along with Kesla’s band as they prepare their transports. There’s no hostility in any of the faces here – those who’ve chosen to come see me off can all clearly still be counted as true friends. The sobering fact is there don’t seem to be that many of them.
They descend on me as soon as we emerge, slowing my progress significantly. I offer my condolences and try to make it through farewells as best I can without starting to cry again, but as I get through more handshakes and hugs I feel my control slipping again. Terue does his work admirably here, deflecting as much of it as he can, helping to keep the mood light, but it still isn’t great right now.
Finally I’m able to join my new travelling companions, who seem to be pretty much ready to go already. My mother was extremely magnanimous with restitutions once we got everything straightened out, their ruined cart replaced with one of our wagons, a more substantial vehicle which is likely to be as much a hindrance as a help where we’re going. At least there’s more room in the back, which is helpful since it’s going to be carrying passengers as well as cargo now.
Wenrich Clearwood is conscious as I approach, but he still seems a little frazzled, blinking some before finally recognising me. To be honest it’s a miracle he’s alive given the weight of what fell on him, but since their cleric’s still out of action on the healing front we had to rely on non-magical medical knowledge to patch him up instead. His right leg’s broken in two places, his left wrist too, while three of his fingers were badly dislocated along with his right shoulder. His head took the worst of it, suffering more serious damage than Art’s glancing stun, but thankfully he still seems to be just about all there. He’s heavily swathed in bandages and well-made splints, and they’ve made him a proper soft nest in the back of the cart so he can recline while he recovers on the road. At least until Krakka can get back in touch with his beloved goddess again.
Gael’s in there with him, although the hope is that they’ll be up and about on their feet again in a few more days, right now they just need to recuperate. They smile the moment they see me, and I can’t help returning it, although I’m not satisfied with how fragile it feels. It’s real, though. Nice to know I’ve definitely already made at least one genuine friend in this group.
Kesla turns to me as she finishes inspecting Trampler’s saddle, looking me over for a moment before turning back to give the great dark horse a gentle pat on the neck that he grunts his appreciation to. Seems they’ve bonded already. Gods … I can’t believe my mother gave up her own mount, she’s more repentant than I thought. Yeslee’s been given one of our biggest shire-horses, which seems to suit her better than the regular horse she had before, and for now she’s clearly happier communing with that beast than taking part in all this.
Truth is I get the distinct impression she doesn’t like me, or at least I don’t think she does. She’s hard to read, I’m starting to feel like she’s the sort of person for whom expressiveness does not come easy, but our few interactions to date have all struck me as being very cold. If I ever do earn the Fir Bolg’s trust it’s clearly going to be hard won.
Maybe she’s still stewing about her arrows. Some of the ones she shot the other night were recovered from the dead and returned to her, but far less than I think she would’ve liked. I think most were probably broken intentionally by grieving friends after being drawn from the bodies.
Finally stepping away from Trampler, Kesla joins me, Art following a moment later after tending his returned filly. As he draws near I toss my bundled sword to him and he stops where he is, inspecting it all. His brow furrows. “I don’t understand …”
“You need a new sword, so you might as well have mine. Take good care of it or I’ll tear you a new one.”
His eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the sword again, then he draws it. Taking a few steps into open ground, he gives it a few flourishes, trying it out, slashing and lunging for a few moments until he’s comfortable with it. It’s longer than his old one, probably heavier too, but comparatively similar enough he shouldn’t take long to adjust to it. Once he’s done he looks it over one last time, giving an appreciative nod as he sheathes it again. “Nice. I like it. Thank you. I’ll show it the proper respect it’s due, I promise.”
“That was generous.” Kesla watches him strap the new scabbard to his sword-belt, adjusting it carefully until it fits comfortably. “Then again, you got quite the upgrade yourself.” She eyes the sword on my hip for a moment before finally looking up at me again.
“I’m still not sure if I’m comfortable with it yet.” I admit “Time will tell.”
She just nods. I get the feeling she wants to say more but holds back. I find myself watching her closely all the same, wondering what she’s thinking, but once again, as often seems to be the case with this one, she’s just too hard to read. She just shrugs and shakes her head. “So you’re sure you want to do this? You can still change your mind, you know. You can stay. This is clearly still your family.”
“Maybe.” I look around the small gathering, a stark representation of just how diminished the company as a whole is after all this. I can’t help feeling this encapsulates the very reason I can’t stay right now. “They’ll still be here, or somewhere in the Reaches if I ever find my way back again. But I need to do this right now. You’re wrong, I don’t really have a choice right now.” I sigh, heavy in my heart as well as everywhere else now. “I’m just glad you’ll have me.”
It takes her a few moments to answer, which is telling enough on its own. “Yeah, well it’s the least we can do since your people wouldn’t take any of the money.”
Ah yes, the money. Kesla briefly voiced the idea that, in light of what we lost, they might be able to help out there. They have a substantial amount of platinum with them, and she offered us half of it to go towards helping out the kin of those who fell in this last battle, but my mother cut her right off from that. Even if there hadn’t been a modest king’s ransom of cash and objects left behind in Ashsong’s effects she wouldn’t have taken it anyway.
“You’re sure you’re good to ride?” she asks after a moment of awkward silence. “The road outta here ain’t gonna be easy, and it’s worse once we’re moving proper. You might be better off with Gael and Master Clearwood. Ain’t like space is at a premium now.”
“No, I think I need to get back in the saddle, literally as well as figuratively. If we’re going to do this I need to be able to pull my own weight.” Kesla gives me another long look after I say this, and there might be some new appreciation in her expression for that, I can’t quite tell. Not that I’d be too surprised – one warrior to another, I think she understands my need for personal autonomy.
“All right, well mount up then. We got some ground to cover, I wanna do it before it gets dark. Sooner we can collect the rest of our gear again the happier I’ll be.” She looks past me for a moment, frowning a touch, then nods, giving me a gentle slap on the side of my arm, a strangely companionable gesture even if it does feel awkwardly delivered. “I’ll give you a minute or two.”
I don’t need to see what she did before she goes back to Trampler, I already know who’s there. Turning round, I see Terue snap to attention through the corner of my eye, the way he always does when my mother’s around. He just can’t help himself, Min the Reckless just has that effect on people, even those she’s known for years.
Gods, she looks tired, it hurts seeing it in her face. Tired and sad and … lost. She’s wearing her hair down, thick black curls spilling over her shoulders, and not a single piece of armour in sight, leather or otherwise. She still projects power simply through her impressively muscular build and imposing height, but her stance is awkward now, jarringly unsure of herself without the weight of all that gear. That hurts to see too.
“Yeah, sorry.” Terue stammers after a moment, scuttling off with unusual clumsiness. Ostensibly to deliver my pack and duffel bag to rest amongst the gear and supplies stashed in the wagon with its passengers, but really he just wants to give us some privacy.
Several seconds tick by as we just look at each other, then look away awkwardly, before looking back again. Gods, this is so uncomfortable, I fucking hate it. Gritting my teeth, I forge ahead, determined not to just ride away from my mother without a word. “Are you … I’m sorry. This is a mess. Are you all right?” I wince immediately at the question, it’s clear enough she’s not.
“No, no, it’s not. I’m sorry. I’m … I will be all right. I don’t want you to worry about me right now. You need to go, you made that very clear, and I respect that. You need this, Shay. You need time to think, you need time to breathe and be yourself, and most of all you need to see the world outside of … I don’t know. This. There’s so much more for you out there.” She takes a deep breath and it hitches as she lets it out again. “Your father was right.”
“About what?”
“Wanting more for you. I see it now. This’ll be good for you. Perhaps the best thing. There are so many great things for you to see and do out there, Shay. You’ll find your way out there, the right way for you. This is your path to something great.” She looks away for a moment, and I realise she’s watching Kesla, who’s feeding Trampler something from her pocket. It looks like sugar-cubes. Wow, he’s going to go mad for her, clearly.
“These are good people, Shay.” Min says after a moment, and there’s something fragile in her voice. It sounds like hope. “They’ll do right by you, I think. Or they better, at least.”
“Yeah,” I barely breathe it. “I think you’re right. I hope.”
Another awkward silence descends, and I feel that weight of sadness starting to grab hold again, unsure if I really want to fight it now. I finally summon up the words, start to speak, but Min just steps forward all at once and grabs me, folding me into the fiercest hug she’s ever given me, I’m helpless against it. She stops just short of crushing me, but it’s still an overpowering embrace, all I can do is give in to her. Thankfully the tears don’t come this time, perhaps she simply surprised me too much for that, but I melt all the same, pressing my face into her shoulder as I breathe her in. That wonderfully complex, dark, musky scent I’ve known all my life that just smells like home to me. Like love.
“Promise me you’ll be all right out there.” She breathes it so softly I barely catch it.
Gods … I just don’t know if I can really make a promise like that, and it hurts so much. She knows she’s asking for something impossible, but I know she needs that reassurance right now. This is killing her. I know it because it’s killing me. So I take as deep a breath as I can under this kind of pressure and nod. “I promise.”
“Good.” She doesn’t let go, she holds onto me for what seems like a very long time, and I let her. I’m drinking this in as much as I can because I know this is the last time I’ll see my mother for a very long time. Perhaps ever. I hold onto her as tight as she’s holding onto me, making sure she doesn’t let go until I’m ready for her to.
“I love you.” she finally breathes. It shakes my resolve some, I almost choke up after all hearing it, but I manage to fight it back down again. Finally I respond in kind.
We separate after that, and there are several more moments of awkward silence where we just look at each other. Then I sigh and nod and mutter: “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then.” Which has me inwardly cringing because of how thoroughly insufficient and dismissive it must sound.
She doesn’t answer, instead taking my hand at the last and stopping me again. She presses something into it before letting go again, and when I look down I nearly break again. The ring. It’s the ring my father gave her all those years ago, before I was born, when they first made their commitment to one another. It’s far too small for her thick fingers, so she’s always worn it round her neck on a leather thong. It was my great grandmother’s, the ring of a mighty elven mage old enough to recall the Sundering from personal experience. It seems like a simple band of gold, subtly patterned with scrolling filigree, but there’s a subtle thrum of something that feels almost alive in it. I’m speechless for several moments looking at it.
“I can’t … I can’t take this. It’s all you have left of him.”
“No, that’s not true.” She touches my face so gently I barely feel her fingers, featherlight on my cheek. “I have you.”
This time I can’t keep the tears at bay, and I don’t even try. Thankfully they’re gentle, but I feel two drops roll down my cheeks all the same, and I see my mother’s having the same problem. She smiles at me and it’s beautiful, touched by sadness as it is. Something of the bright, unusual, incredibly powerful young orc girl my father fell in love with, I think.
“Goodbye.” I manage to choke out as I slip the thong over my head.
“Never.” She laughs a little saying it, bitter as it might be. “Never goodbye.”
We watch each other for a few more moments, then I hear Kesla call out behind me: “Shay, we need to go!”
Gritting my teeth, I nod a little and give my mother one last glance, trying my best to give her a reassuring smile and knowing I’m failing. She returns the best she can, but hers seems as false as mine. I turn away quickly as I give my eyes a savage swipe with my sleeve and stride off to my own mount with as much confidence as I can counterfeit.
Elder, my own mount, is waiting with his usual mercurial shortness of patience. He’s unusually warm-blooded for a draught-horse, much like Trampler, but also younger, more impetuous too, a temperament that’s always endeared me to him, really. I guess he reminds me of Tarrow in that. Particularly sleek in mane, with a beautiful speckled grey coat I can’t stop stroking. He’s barely tolerant of Terue holding his reins to steady him, only behaving because he knows I trust the half-elf, and he gives a defiant but appreciative shake of his head that troubles my friend for a moment as he sees me coming. I give his shoulder a friendly pat as I reach them and he gives another shake while he snorts.
Terue waits for a few more moments until he’s relatively sure Elder won’t do anything unexpected, then finally lets go of the reins so he can pull me into a hug, and I let him. I give him one last good squeeze before I let go, but he grabs my arms at the last, holds me there briefly before finally letting go, almost regretful, and he’s looking at me, thoughtful, like he wants to do something. I know what’s coming, and I let it happen.
He kisses me, hesitant at first, but then I reach up and take his face in my hands to keep it there, and I kiss him back, deeper. When we part I let my forehead rest against his and breathe him in like I did with my mother. There’s some of the same scents, old sweat and leather, but other things too. Cool and sharp, something new I don’t think I ever noticed before, sharp and a little tangy. He smells like home too, but in a very different way.
“I guess we’ll talk about that when we see each other again, then.” he mutters finally before taking a step back.
“Yeah, I guess we will.” I look him over for a moment, realising a lot of new things about him that I never took into account before. It’s a strange feeling, and not unwelcome at all. “Just keep yourself alive in the meantime so we can actually have that conversation, okay?”
After a moment he cocks a brow, giving me a little half-smile. “I’ll try. Make sure you do the same, Shay.”
Nodding, I take hold of Elder’s reins and jump up into the saddle. Thankfully my legs seem to be strong enough I don’t make a complete fool of myself in the process, and I give my mount a pat on the neck that prompts another head-shake. He paws at the ground for a few moments and I think he might be giving Terue a little stink-eye, which makes me chuckle.
“Okay, then.” I give Kesla a nod as she wheels Trampler round, and she looks to Min, who sticks two fingers in her mouth. Her whistle is a powerful thing, and after a moment there’s a great grinding of locks turning inside the great huge doors in front of us before they start to swing inwards on their own. A few beats later there’s similar clunking from the bottom of the dark, sloping tunnel beyond and light starts to trickle through as the outer gates open outwards on their own too.
Yeslee doesn’t even wait for Kesla’s invitation, she spurs her horse immediately and he trots into the darkness amiably, like he’s already scrambling to please her. Krakka takes up the reins from the wagon’s bench as he settles himself and gives me a moment’s look, then a nod, before snapping the four fresh draughthorses in the team into motion. They follow Yeslee out, Gael’s mount following from where she’s tethered at the back of the wagon.
Driver 8 starts moving then, and those few close to him who might’ve started to forget he was there all immediately jump back from him, clearly remembering what he managed to unleash upon them two nights back. He pauses for a moment to look to Kesla, who nods, then turns to look at me for a much longer time. If Yeslee was unreadable, this thing is an unfathomable mystery. Unsure how to respond, I simply nod too, and after another moment he turns and starts to lumber into the tunnel.
Art looks to Kesla now himself, and when she nods he spurs his own horse on, giving me a moment’s glance which seems much warmer than I expected. Or maybe not. He’s been starting to come round too since the battle ended, and I think my admittedly pragmatic gift might have been the final crack in any remaining reticence.
Finally it’s just me and Kesla, and she’s already getting a feel for her new mount as she lets Trampler trot around the yard for a moment. She looks down at those around us, saying nothing but taking in all their faces, and some of them seem to return her newfound respect. Finally she reins him up and faces my mother, who watches her for a moment before nodding with a subtle smile which is returned in kind. She wheels around once more, gives me a look, then starts for the tunnel herself.
I find it so hard to follow. I look at the others, all focused on me now, and there’s no reproach in any of these faces, no resentment, not even reticence. There’s just love, and sadness that we’re parting. Except for Terue. He’s watching me with a very complex expression, there’s fondness and a little cockiness in there too, but more, there’s an expectation. Like he knows this won’t be the last time we see each other. I wish I could be so certain.
Min holds my attention longest, and her eyes break my heart as they root me to the spot. It’s not until I hear Kesla call my name one more time from the bottom of the tunnel that I’m able to break that hold, waving to everyone before I turn Elder round and ride into the gloom without another backward glance. We’ve gone a whole mile before I finally look back again, and of course by then it’s definitely too late to change my mind …
THE END OF BOOK 1
THE STORY WILL BE CONTINUED IN BOOK 2 ...
#never split the party#The Creeping Bam#the adventures of The Creeping Bam#book 1 chapter 31#final chapter#fantasy fiction#original fiction#original fantasy fiction#to be continued
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