#i'm still relearning how to paint | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

huramuna · 1 month

Text

banshee's lament - chapter 8.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.7k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

i've been planning this chapter for months now, i hope you all enjoy! there is a surprise in this chapter 👀

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, talk of chronic pain and illness

story playlist

It was slowly nearing half a year since Shera and Cregan arrived at King’s Landing– she still hadn’t gotten used to the heat but she had finally, somehow, begun to adjust to the people, the looks, the whispers and sneers.

She, albeit slowly, was losing care in such things. She had been spending more and more time with the people she cared about– the ones who made her happy. She still visited Helaena and the children once a day and sometimes would even stay overnight and giggle under the covers with the princess like they would when they were children.

Her mornings started by watching Aemond spar with Ser Cole. She didn’t hide from it anymore– as she felt… somewhat liberated from showing her eye to him. She couldn’t exactly explain, to herself, much less anyone else, why she felt warmer than usual when watching him clash swords with his mentor. Sweat dripping from his face, the little sneer he plastered on when he was particularly concentrating. It felt like butterflies were trapped in her stomach, beating against her skin to get out. It was unfamiliar at first, the feeling– but now it’s become a recognized acquaintance, even if she couldn’t exactly name it.

Aemond, as well, had taken it upon himself to make more effort to spend time with Shera. His days before she returned to King’s Landing were very structured, very planned and scheduled. He would wake up, spar with Cole from morning light until lunch with his mother, then back to sparring until early evening when he would wind down by reading in his chambers, eat dinner, and then go to bed. ‘Going to bed’ didn’t really indicate sleeping, however. He didn’t need much of it to function and found the dreams (and nightmares, to his chagrin) that came with sleep uncouth– so he laid, usually for hours, until his mind drifted into the lightest of sleep cycles. He valued organization and repetition– impromptu changes to such a rigid routine were unwelcome.

Except for Shera– a very impromptu change to his life on her own. Mayhaps unwelcome at first, his outward antagonistic behavior to her was improper and came from a place of, surprisingly, regret. Regret and self-loathing. Usually, he attributed the feeling of self-pity and self flagellation in association with his brother, who was in all rights, a pathetic example of a man (but still his brother and wouldn’t tolerate such talk about him from anyone else) but when Shera came back, walking down that hall– she had looked so small, like she was a fragile heirloom on the verge of breaking at any moment. She could hardly walk without guidance and hid herself.

When his mother said she was returning, as vague as it was, he felt some sort of resentment bubbling up in his gut. What gave her the right to return now? He fully expected her to be the epitome of a Northern lady, hardy and strong, unyielding. The letters ‘she’ (unbeknownst to him at the time, the words were fabrications of Cregan) sent after Driftmark, painted the picture of someone who was fine, who was well adjusted, who didn’t have to go through moons and moons of relearning how to be a person. The image of Shera he had concocted into his mind, and onto paper– an icy woman with fiery hair who would come to blows with someone rather than shed a tear– was not what he saw.

No, what he had seen in that hall, who he had seen– he didn’t recognize her. Then, seeing the small curl of copper hair, the fur stole, the wolf. It struck him like a bolt of lightning, spurring every cell in his body into action, setting them on fire. Blood pumped in his ears and he could hardly hear her (whispering voice aside).

She was broken. Harsh, yes– but it was true. She was a shell, behest to the terrible experience they both suffered.

Regret flooded through him. She was this way because of him, because he dragged her along in the middle of the night to watch him claim Vhagar.

I should have killed them. I should have killed them.

And he retreated from her. He hardly remembers his words to her after she came out from his mother’s chambers– they felt vile in his mouth, like spewing venom. The primal part of him, the dragon, was unruly and restless.

He couldn’t stop lashing out at her–

But what did he really feel?

He fucking missed her. He missed her more than he could ever profess. He wouldn’t admit it outloud, of course, he had to maintain some form of self-preservation.

After their night in her room, after seeing her eye– there was a shift. They spent more time together and she became a fixture of his schedule.

Wake up, spar with Cole and have Shera watch him until noon, they would lunch together three days out of the week with Helaena. He cut his afternoon sparring in half and spent that time with Shera. At first it was awkward, but they melded into one another like their youth quickly.

She begged him to teach her how to draw, to help strengthen her eyesight.

“It… it hurts to focus.” she sniffed, looking up at him. She didn’t wear her veil when they were alone, which he made sure they were when they were drawing. Her blind eye was red rimmed slightly, twitching.

He had set up a vase on a small table for her to draw– it was a simple clay vase with a depiction of two nightingales in flight. They had just moved on from plain objects to something a bit more detailed, albeit only by a little bit.

“Don’t strain, Shera. Just… look at it normally. It’s blurry in some places, right?”

“… yes.”

“Okay. You looked at it up close for a good five minutes. Do you remember what was on the side?”

“The… the nightingale imprint.”

“You can see it in your mind, but it’s not clear to the eye. Use your memory to fill in the blanks.”

“Aemond— this… this is just a test of memory. How is this helping my eyes?”

“Trust me.”

She started off shaky, her first slew of sketches no better than his were when he had first started, but she fell into it quickly. She developed her own style, straying from the charcoal that Aemond used exclusively, and opted for more colorful tools– she had woad paste pastels imported from Dorne. They would sit and depict the same thing and come out with completely different results.

It was so easy to forget that she was betrothed to another. That she was to leave soon.

That she was to be his nephew’s wife. His nephew who didn’t give a shit about her. His nephew who was there. Did no one else think it a bit sick that she was to be the wife of someone who took a part in her mutilation?

Was he the only sane one?

He sighed softly as they finished up their drawings for the day. They had been sketching the coastline of Blackwater Bay– Shera went with a color scheme of blue and green and sparse spots of orange and yellow.

He stuck to his monochromatic charcoal.

“Rhaenyra’s name day gala is… in a fortnight, right?” Shera hummed, using her foot to pet Moongeist, who was at her feet.

“Mm,” Aemond responded, flicking some errant charcoal powder from his doublet. “A mummer’s farce, if you ask me.”

“... I don’t care much for events– but at least… your mother and sister are getting along,” she tilted her head as she wiped her hands off.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had been working together to plan the event and were in high spirits. They were frequently seen chatting lightheartedly.

“Half-sister,” Aemond clarifies, giving her a pointed look.

“Half-sister,” Shera says, brows raised. “I suppose it is a send off, too– since…” her voice trails off slightly, not really wanting to talk about her impending wedding to Jacaerys. She hasn’t spoken much to her betrothed as she didn’t feel the need to– she let him run around with her brother and do what he liked. She imagined it wouldn’t be much different when they were married.

An uneasy silence settled over them. There were many words on the tips of their tongues that they just couldn’t say– it would make it real.

“Shera-,”

“Aemond-,”

They spoke at the same time, standing up simultaneously. Moongeist made a warbling chuff sound that sounded like a laugh.

He must be sick of our antics.

“I should get back to my chambers– before dinner. Cregan wants to… eat with me, for some reason.” she shrugged her shoulders.

“Hm,” Aemond hummed in his usual manner.

—

Shera sat across from Cregan, leg crossed over the other as she fed Moongeist scraps under the table.

“What did you want to speak about?” she broke the silence, glancing up at him. She had put her veil back on– to her dismay, as she had come to like not having it on… around Aemond, at least.

“Do I need a reason to want to dine with my sister?” he asked, clenching his jaw slightly.

“... no,” she mumbled, flicking her nails against one another. “But you don’t usually dine with me.”

He chewed on his piece of mutton slowly, regarding her. “I’m leaving, Shera. I need to go back North.”

“Why?” she blurts out, a bit more emotionally than she wanted to. She and Cregan didn’t have a great relationship, but they were… siblings. There was familiarity.

“I’ve stayed too long already, there is a keep to run, things to do, Shera,” he narrowed his gaze. “Will you be alright… alone?”

Her lip caught between her teeth. “... I suppose so.” she and Cregan had their moments– she thought he was a huge idiot most of the time, but that was her brother. She had been by his side for the last ten years and he nursed her back to some semblance of health when she returned from Driftmark. No matter the choices he made, the ones he made for her– they were all one another had, really.

Her chest ached slightly that he would be going back North and leaving her here. She wouldn’t be alone, per say, but… her blood would be so far away.

“Will you… attend the wedding?” she asked then, drawing little circles on the table with the tip of her nail.

“Yes, I’ll return to Dragonstone for it.”

“Dragonstone?” Shera looked up, slightly alarmed. “I thought the wedding would be in King’s Landing?”

Cregan stopped chewing, suddenly looking sheepish. It was unbecoming of him. “I… yes,” he cleared his throat. “Jacaerys said that after his mother’s name day gala, they will move back to Dragonstone.”

Why does no one tell me anything? “Hm.” she grumbled, sounding much like Aemond– she’s picked up on his little mannerisms and made them her own, it seemed.

“You will be going with them and will be wed soon after.”

She made another noncommittal noise, scraping the remains of her plate to the floor. She’d lost her appetite.

She would be alone sooner than she thought.

—

Returning from a luncheon with Helaena, a few days after Cregan’s departure, she discarded her veil right away as soon as the door was closed behind her.

She waved her hand in front of her face, despairing in the heat of the South. Moongeist agreed, his tongue lolling out in a pant as he lapped at a small tub of water at the foot of the bed.

“It’s too hot for us here, dovey,” she whimpered, wiping sweat from her brow, beginning to strip the various layers of clothing she had on— she did have somewhere to be later in the day, but she would simply have to redress. “I hope Dragonstone is more breezy, lest we melt.”

The layers flew off of her, pooling upon the floor like a puddle of dark ichor. It likely didn’t help that she only wished to wear dark colors, attracting the heat of the sun to her poor constitution. Her cheeks flushed red with the errant warmth and she wondered if this was how those with Targaryen blood felt all of the time— constantly huffing, puffing, warm and sweating. It was terrible.

Finally in nothing but her shift and underclothes, she walked to the bed, hand reached out to peel back the blanket when something shiny caught her eye.

Investigating further, she found a small velvety box, opened to reveal a silver choker, inlaid with three sapphires. Blinking profusely, Shera carefully pried the piece out of its holdings and inspected it. It was, to say the least, flawless. It matched her silver earrings that she always wore almost down to the exact detail, the engravings even the same— long, flowing tendrils into the metal, outlining the gems like garlands. Pearls hung from the bottom of each sapphire. Her thumb roved over the center sapphire, the largest one and the most prominent. It was cool to the touch.

Gently placing the choker down, she dismantled the box looking for a note or any indication of who might have left it. She guessed it to be Jace— did he intend for her to wear it to the gala? She would have to find a garment to match.

Shera descended to her wardrobe, rummaging through until she landed on something that would go swimmingly with her new necklace. It was a dress she hadn’t worn at all, and had been tailored for her shortly before leaving Winterfell. It was a silver and blue dress with intricate embroidery akin to that of a Godswood, but the leaves were a cool toned blue rather than red. She had a pearl-laden head garment, imbued with a silken veil and ringed headdress of sorts, with silver moons hanging down on each side.

Curious.

–

“You… must stay outside, lovey,” Shera murmured to Moongeist. She had received a missive– unclear from who, but either Alicent and Rhaenyra– that they would prefer if her wolf was not in attendance to the gala. She wanted to cry, leaving him outside of the ballroom. Contrary to popular belief, she didn’t really command her companion– their relationship, as impenetrable as others may see it, was the culmination of years of hard work and trust. They were so attuned to each other, Moongeist knowing when she was pushing herself too far, when she was in distress, and when he needed to step into a situation. He was, on all accounts, very polite and well-mannered – for a wolf. He had never bitten anyone who didn’t deserve it. His good conduct thus far and impeccable record was apparently not enough for him to be admitted to the event. He whined as Shera snuffed into his fur, murmuring soft nothings into it. “I’ll return as soon as I can,” she whispered. “I’ll come get you when everyone leaves and you shall have all the scraps you’d like.”

Tearing herself from him, he sat dutifully outside of the glass door that led from the gardens into the ballroom. She willed herself not to cry, not to cry.

She was unsteady on her own feet, hoping to find someone familiar to steady herself on. The last option of familiarity presented itself first. Jacaerys spotted her right away, putting a hand on her waist. “Shera,” he smiled warmly. “You look… wonderful tonight. Mother is going to be so happy to see you in attendance.”

“Jacaerys,” she responded, willing a smile on her face. He was better than no one. She steadied herself by putting a hand on his shoulder. His eyes, usually sparkling with mirth, were a bit dim. He seemed… forlorn. “We don’t have such lavish events like this much– up North… apart from feasts. There usually isn’t much dancing.”

He swallowed, his brow furrowing minutely. “May I interest you in a dance, then?”

“Mm,” she hummed as they descended to the dance floor. She thought about her dance with Helaena and Aemond on the night of her betrothal dinner– it all felt so far away now. She tilted her head slightly as they danced. Jace’s head was looking to the door, as if he was waiting for someone. “As annoying as he is– I miss him as well.”

Jace looked slightly bewildered. “Pardon?”

“I may only be able to see from one eye, but I’m not completely blind,” Shera murmured. “You’ll see him again.”

The prince softened slightly, nodding his head. He was grateful for the words.

They danced a bit more and mingled, more so Jacaerys talking to people and stringing Shera along. Somehow, through it all, she became separated from him, walking on her own through the throngs of people. The heat, even with her less thick layers than usual, was stifling– from all of the bodies.

She suddenly felt… panicked, like when she was lost in the tunnels that one evening. “Excuse me,” she whispered hurriedly as she pushed through people, who didn’t even seem to see her there. “Pardon m–”

Her voice was cut off by a strong arm pulling her around her waist. Her anxiety damped right away as the familiar smell of sandalwood and leather took over her senses. Aemond looked down at her. “Lost again?” he was wearing a black and deep purple button-up doublet, with a long overcoat. It had a flared collar. He looked nice– it wasn’t much different color wise to his usual garb, but it absolutely wasn’t something he would spar in. He was even without his sword– but a brush of Shera’s hand near his waist revealed he did have his dagger strapped to his belt.

“... mayhaps.”

“And where is your guide? It is unlike your dog to abandon his post.”

“He wasn’t invited to the gala,” Shera frowned.

“And you’ve… been left alone?”

“Jacaerys was–”

Aemond held up his hand. “You don’t need to tell me any more,” he rolled his one eye. “He wouldn’t be able to keep track of you if you were the size of a dragon.”

They fell into an easy sway– he was much more relaxed than he was when they first danced. But Shera couldn’t shake what her brother had said– they… Rhaenyra and her brood, which included Shera now, would be leaving a few days after the gala. She hadn’t told Aemond, she didn’t know how.

“You’re worried,” he tilted her chin up to him so their gazes could meet. “I can feel your unease from here.”

“... I…” her mouth felt dry, her hand clutching his inner elbow shakily. “We’re leaving.”

Aemond stayed silent.

“Jacaerys and I… are to be wed upon Dragonstone– and we are to leave… in a few days.”

Aemond still declined to speak.

“Aemond,” she pressed her thumb into his skin.

“You can’t leave again,” he stated. He did not ask, nor plead. He stated it, as if it was a definitive fact. “I won’t let you.” the same moment of rage she had seen before was there, bubbling under the surface. A vein in his neck bulged out and she could feel the control he was trying to keep over himself, over the situation. He gripped her face with both hands now, boring into her with a surprising and sudden placid smile.

–

With a hand over her swollen belly, Rhaenyra scanned the crowd. It’d been so long since she properly enjoyed an event. The planning of it with Alicent had been… more fun than she thought it’d be, and the two women quickly fell back into a rapport, akin to when they were girls together.

It felt right.

Her eyes eventually fell upon two familiar faces— Shera, her veil pulled back slightly by Rhaenyra’s half-brother, Aemond. His hand gripped her face softly, but with intensity as the two locked gazes, lips pursed, brows furrowed, clearly in a heated conversation. It took Rhaenyra all but five seconds to be teleported back to her own wedding to Laenor, all those years ago, where she and Daemon had been in the exact same position— where she had dared Daemon to cleave through her father’s men, steal her away to Dragonstone and make her his wife.

Fuck.

–

“They think you are tame and controlled— but I can see it, the blood welling and boiling just under the surface of your skin. You’re hardly holding it together,” she whispered harshly. “Do you not think I’ve tried to devise everything I could… to stay? To stop any of this?”

“Quell me, then. Let me take you to marriage and let me cut your lip, taste your blood in the ways of old. Dampen my molten blood. I’ll do it in an instant, under the heart tree, in the molten halls of the Dragonmont– anywhere,” his nail pressed into her cheek, angling her head upward to look directly at him. No escape from madness, look me in the eye, he seemed to taunt silently.

It was overwhelming. She was overwhelmed with the warmth in her stomach, the butterflies she felt– they bursted into ash, searing into her like a brand. Shera felt the world around her chill, her extremities cold. “A-Aemond,” she croaked, her hand grasping at his shoulder with all of her might, but it’d only came through as a light tug. “A-Aem—“

Coldness spread through her, her vision fading to white. Then she was warm, extremely so— like she was on fire, panting and spewing hot breaths from her open maw.

Blinking her eyes— she was outside, her heavy wisps fogging the glass pane on the door. Wait. She had full vision, not just the one. It felt odd, so wrong for her to be able to see all around her like she was whole and normal.

Why was she outside? Just let me in, Godsdammit, let me in! She growled low, hands coming up to scratch at the wood and glass, nails digging into it. Her nails were longer than normal and much sharper, a deep black in color.

She wanted in, in, in, in— her hands, no— her paws and claws shredded at the door, eyes peering into the crowd. They were gathered around, shifting slightly to let her see what was going on—

They were gathered around her, eyes rolled back in her head as she laid limp in Aemond’s arms. She saw Jacaerys storming over, already hurling accusations towards Aemond.

No, no, he didn’t do this, stop! She screamed, barking and howling, her teeth biting into the wood and beginning to rip it apart, splintering and cracking the glass.

Shera watched in horror as Jacaerys unsheathed his sword. Aemond was still holding her, loathing to give her up—

Stop, stop, stopstopstop! She bursted through the weakened door, glass and all, feeling it tear at her fur and skin. Patrons gasped around her as she mulled through them towards the center, snapping and snarling.

“Moongeist, calm down!” Jacaerys said, his eyes wide in surprise as she sat between him and Aemond.

So she was Moongeist— that is why it felt so familiar. She, no, they drew their lips back in a growl, hackles raised. Back off, back off, back off! They screamed, snapping at anyone who got too close.

‘That wolf has gone mad!’

‘Is that the prince’s intended?’

‘Yes, but not the prince that’s holding her.’

‘How wanton.’

They panted heavily, still feeling a deep rage within them. Everyone was too close, too close– the sounds of the gala drowned out as they looked to the upper windows of the ballroom. A familiar sight to behold– the cream colored blur and siren’s song of a voice.

A beige and cream colored barn owl sat atop the eave of the window, staring down at them with wide eyes.

‘Now you know, dear Shera.’

–

Shera awoke later, still cold as ice. She was back in her own body but still felt the remnants of itching fervor from being in Moongeist– not ‘in’, it had a word. Warg. She heard children’s tales about it, how a man can enter the mind of a beast and become one with it.

She glanced around the room. Aemond was pacing– she was in… her chambers. Jaw clenched, she sat up from the settee with surprising vigor.

“Shera–” Aemond sputtered, stopping his pacing.

“Hush, come with me,” she grabbed his wrist and strung him along, feeling more lively than she had in ages. Moongeist padded alongside them, hugging to her leg just in case.

She led them down to the weirwood, not letting go of her grip on him.

“You cannot lie to me, Aemond Targaryen, not here. Do you see that?” she gestures to the face etched in the bark of the Great Oak– staring back at the two of them.

How silly they must look.

“Do… not… lie to me,” Shera pleaded. She approached him, her hand skimming the edge of his jaw. He was so warm, always so warm– he permeated through the cold she always felt. “You can lie to everyone else. Keep… those walls up and don’t let anyone in. But not… not to me. Never to me,” she was trembling with the weight of what she was asking, her fingers drumming against his skin. “Did you mean it? Did… you mean it? You want me here with you?”

He stilled her by covering her hand with his own. “I wouldn’t–,” Aemond murmured, his free hand coming up to unhook his eyepatch. Her breath hitched as he discarded it. The moonlight caught the concaves of the gem first, expanding over the flecks of blue, all shades of it.

A sapphire.

She palmed the matching stones on her mysteriously gifted choker. “You… you… your eye…” Shera stumbled slightly, her knees wobbling beneath her.

Aemond held her upright with one arm, slung around her waist. “Hm?” he asked in return, a playful lilt to his voice– something only reserved for her.

“It’s… it’s blue!” she squeaked, pulling his face closer to her, observing with the same scrutiny that she had when they were sketching together. “And… and…” she kept babbling, tugging at her gifted choker. “And this? You… you git! You… cad! Oh, you’re incorrigible.” her words were inflammatory in nature but she… was laughing– as much as she could anyways. It was a quiet giggle, like the soft trill of a small bell.

It made Aemond chuckle in return. The two of them soon devolved into a fit of joviality. “I quite like you in blue, Shera. In my color,” he leaned down to whisper in the shell of her ear. “I had to let Jacaerys know… exactly…” he punctuated each word as his hand made a home on her jaw, inching closer to her lips. “... where and to whom,” his thumb pulled down her bottom lip. “You belong.”

Every nerve in her body was on fire. She’s never felt so warm, so hot in her life. Is this what it felt like to be a Targaryen? Gods, it was fucking stifling.

“And… to be clear,” he continued. “You belong here. With me.”

Her mouth parted, she was barely breathing. She… she wanted… she wanted to kiss him. She wanted him, more than anything she’d wanted before. She was mad; this was mad. Even on shaking legs, she pushed herself on her tippy-toes, pressing their lips together.

She felt… elated. More than elated, it felt like she was flying, skimming the clouds like a dragon, wings spread… free.

Aemond melted into her right away, pulling her closer as they melded together. His tongue swiped against her lower lip as he caressed her so softly, so gently– more gentle than she could ever imagine him being.

This was the first time she ever took something– something she wanted, and she got it. It was selfish, she knew– selfish and dangerous and reckless and just… hers. This was hers. He was hers. “Mine,” she whispered as they caught their respectful breaths. “If… I’m yours, then… you are mine, right?” she clarified, a bit less confident than her previous possessive declaration. “Quite right, little wolf.” he hummed, pressing another kiss to her temple.

In a brazen show of exuberance, she captured his lips once more.

Things were forgotten. Namely, everything that wasn’t them in this moment. Their individual turmoils, their shared despair. All notions of her mysterious collapse, Aemond’s scuffle with Jacaerys, Shera’s impending marriage to the said prince, tensions rising between two sides of a family–

This was for them.

The only time that either of them had taken anything for themselves in the last ten years.

a/n: ART IN THIS CHAPTER BY @lonelymagpies who, as always, was LOVELY to work with! they captured the scene perfectly.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #banshees lament #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x original female character #aemond x ofc

124 notes · View notes

oleander-nin · 4 months

Text

Vampire ROTTMNT Headcanons

A/N, not important: You're probably thinking "Ollie, this is so short and wonky? What gives?" And to that, I say: I didn't know whether to make it old timey, how they became vamps, etc, so I'm going with this version for the normal rise, and a Victorian version for the Yan and I'll just bounce them around sometimes whenever I revisit this trope. I have how I want vampires to act, just not sure how/when I want the rise boys to be vamps. Feel free to ask questions if you need clarification or want a certain thing answered. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Blood drives, mention of needles, blood, being bitten, animal deaths mentioned, vampires

Words: 2127

Summary: My Basic Vampire ROTTMNT Headcanons

Tag list: @f1oricide

They all got infected/turned after being bit by a vampire bat mutant.

Mikey:

Mikey has the longest canines of his brothers, something that causes him to avoid feeding on living things as much as he can. He tried once and felt awful for the cries it made, so he usually goes out and tries to find newly deceased animals, or steals from a butcher. Will also kill animals if he has to. His longer canines also make it harder for him to hide his ‘condition’, but he’ll usually brush accusations off with comments of genetics or his mutation.

Constantly bites his lips while talking, the long fangs getting in his way. He basically has to relearn how to enunciate his words due to them. He gets easily frustrated by his inability to speak well, and gets irritated easier because he can’t explain why he’s feeling upset.

He’s able to adjust to most of the new abilities fairly easily, as all of them are already incredibly strong and fast due to their mutation. The night vision and sensitivity to light, however, excites him. He’s content to wear sunglasses during the day if they need to go out, and the ability to see better in the dark makes their night missions a lot easier. Plus, he’s now able to stay up all night painting without alerting his brothers to him being up so late.

Absolutely despises that he basically can’t cook anymore. He still makes food for his father, but he can’t even touch half the best ingredients without gagging anymore. Food smells rancid at best, and tastes thick and unsavory no matter how much he tries to fix it.

He’s always trying to snuggle up with you now, his skin constantly cold from the lack of circulation. He likes to latch onto you and bury his face into your stomach, trying to pretend he’s still alive and well.

He likes to bite the deltoid of your shoulder the most because he can hug you close while he does it, but still drape himself over you. You’re the only human blood he usually gets, but he only does it when you offer it first. He doesn’t want to accidentally pressure you into letting him feed off you if you’re not comfortable with it.

Hates to think that he won’t age with you. As he starts to grow faster than normal via the virus, he’s constantly having growing pains and this causes him to come to you for comfort more. He doesn’t like that he’s basically shooting into adulthood, and since none of them have experienced it before, they aren’t sure when it will stop. When it peaks when they seem to be in their mid twenties, Mikey just feels sad. You may not have aged a decade in a year, but your aging never stops. He’s terrified to watch your years pass by without him.

Donnie:

Donnie has the shortest canines, which causes him to look the most ‘normal’ to his original self. He prefers to have human blood, solely taste wise, but usually has SHELLDON get it for him rather than hunting himself because he hates drinking straight from the source. He transfers it into bottles or bags so he can save it and stock up. He avoids drinking from animals mainly because he doesn’t trust them to have parasites or rabies, and while he isn’t happy about drinking from random humans, he can at least hack into their medical records first. Donnie chooses his blood incredibly carefully.

You and April(if she lets him) are the only people he’ll feed on directly. If April lets him, he’ll usually do it like a blood drive and just take a small bit of her blood into a blood bag. For you, it depends. If you’re scared of needles, he’ll just do it the ‘normal’ way, but if not, he’ll let you choose to get it done via blood collection. Where he likes to bite depends on his mood. Sometimes the neck is easiest because you’re just right there and he hasn’t eaten in hours. Sometimes the lower shoulder or the wrist is better because you’re both just trying to get it over with.

He keeps a journal of all the changes that happen to him and his brothers, wanting to keep a list in case they come across someone else it happens to. Their entire mutation/transition is well documented so he doesn’t forget what it was like when it first happened.

It takes him a hot minute to get used to his new heightened senses. His least favorite is his sensitive smell, as anytime he goes near something pungent, he feels physically ill. It takes him a while to go back to the junkyard, the rust and oil making his head spin until he adjusts. He adds stronger noise dampeners to his goggle headset to block out unwanted noise when he needs silence.

He’s constantly complaining of his growing cramps, using you as a pillow more and more now that his hands are stiff from both working and from growing. His mood sours for a long time due to the countless changes he doesn’t want. The only good thing he seems to find from it is that being a vampire will improve his ‘bad boy image’. He completely negates this by curling into you after his legs cramp up and ends up cuddling you for hours.

As soon as he realizes that he will outlive you by a longshot, he tries to find a way to either elongate your life, or shorten his. He refuses to let you leave him. While he’s excited for many years to practice science, the thought of losing you terrifies him, especially since he thought he’d die with you, rather than live on for a millennia afterwards.

Raph:

Is already used to the fangs due to his snaggle tooth. While everyone else is accidentally biting their own lips and tripping over their tongue, he’s able to navigate the new longer teeth fairly easily. He still accidentally bites his tongue a couple of times, but less so than his brothers.

Hates to bite others, and usually feeds on animals. He doesn’t want to be seen as a monster any more than he knows he would already be considered. He avoids feeding for as long as he can, and even tried to continue eating ‘normal’ food for a while, until they all realized it gave them net zero nutrition so they couldn’t survive off it. He eventually gets more used to it and starts eating what he should, but for the first few months he feels incredibly guilty and tries to only eat enough to last a couple hours.

Raph tells you of his new ‘infection’ immediately. He doesn’t want you to figure out accidentally by catching him drinking blood or something.

While he hates biting you, his favorite place to is your shoulder. He likes to have you cuddle into him with your back against his chest so he can just bury his snout into the crook of your neck. The first time he bit you was an accident while he was asleep, and since he wasn’t eating as much as he was supposed to, he bit you while you both were cuddling. He woke up pretty quickly and pulled back, feeling awful about it. His kisses were solely light and soft weeks after that because he was worried he’d accidentally cut you again.

Raph’s more careful around you now, trying to adjust to the nearly doubled strength he now has. He’s clumsy and big, so even when he didn’t have vampire strength, he had to learn to watch out and not play rough with you like he would his brothers. It’s like he has his ninpo powered on all the time now, so it takes him a while to make the adjustment. You gain a few new bruises and countless apologies before he finally gets the hang of it.

His new growth doesn’t help with his clumsiness, especially since he’s shooting up nearly two feet in a year. He’s always sore, so he carries you around like a teddy bear to keep him company. He refuses to think of you growing old without him, refuses to remind himself that as your body starts to wear down, he stays frozen in time.

The one thing he likes about being a vampire is his heightened senses. He always knows where you are, and he doesn’t even have to turn on the light at night to make sure you’re safe. He can see you curled up on the couch or on his bed without disturbing you, and it shortly makes up for the other horrors he goes through in his transformation.

Leo:

Least caring about his new fangs. He thinks they’re cool, constantly teasing others and you by baring his fangs and bringing his hands up in mock claws while hissing. For a while, he goes full into the vampire getup, trying to talk in an accent, saying “bleh bleh bleh” after every sentence, just as much as he can to try and make his new condition unserious. He wants to pretend it’s something fun and not that he’s basically no longer alive

His favorite place to bite is your wrist. He thinks it’s hilarious to bow and grasp your hand as if he’s going to kiss your knuckles, only to flip your arm and sink his teeth into your upper forearm or wrist. Even when he’s not being goofy with it, he still chooses your wrist because he feels he can control it better. If something happens, it’s much easier for you to push him off when he’s holding onto your wrist then biting into your neck. He knows he won’t hurt you, but he’s afraid he might start to drain you, and doesn’t want that to happen.

Leo uses his new powers to show off, creeping up on you in the dark and making jumps he couldn’t make before. He knows he’s stuck like this now and just wants to make the best of it. Sure, he knows it sucks, but goofing around to make his brothers feel better too always makes it a little bit easier.

He tries to ignore the fact he’ll outlive you, passing it off with jokes about him being a trophy husband because he’ll always look young. He’ll hold you close if you ever start to get sad about it, quietly reminding you that you’re not going to die anytime soon, and he’ll be with you for your entire life.

Constantly whines about the growing pains and cramps, using it to bribe you into longer cuddles. He’ll teleport to your side so he doesn’t have to move and just collapse into you. He just wants you near while the aches settle into his bones.

Basic Vampire functions via Draxum mutation:

(sorry it's so jumbled. I hope it all makes sense, ask me if you have questions)

Heightened senses, including eyesight, strength, speed, hearing, and smell. The strengthened eyesight is more sensitive to light, which makes bright lights uncomfortable. They can still be in the sun, just can’t see well due to it which makes being out during the day unappealing to them. Can’t spread being a vampire via a bite(has to be from the original mutant or the string of mutagen). Can only consume blood, although it can be the blood of any organism. Their bite produces a numbing agent(much like a mosquito) so you can’t feel the initial prick or suck. Once the agent wears off, it’s much like the ache of a shot. They must be decapitated to be stopped. Cannot shapeshift nor fly. Common myths(ie: can’t enter a house w/out permission, garlic repulsed, no reflection, etc) don’t apply. They are put off by garlic, but mostly because of its strong, pungent smell, but can’t be stopped by it. They get the same reaction from onions and strong scented flowers. For them, eating normal food is the equivalent of us eating grass. It’ll fill you up, but you can’t digest it or take any nutritional value from it and you’ll probably get sick. The only problem is it both tastes and smells awful. Vampires are immune to any bloodborne diseases. Becoming a vampire starts to change your body into what would pretty much be your best years. Within a year, you would either advance or regress into the physical stature of a fit 25 year old on steroids. If you’re older and your back has started to give out and hunch, you’d regain your height and your muscle mass would be fixed. You’d be stuck as a young adult. Vampires have fast regeneration, and while they can’t regrow lost limbs, a major stab wound can heal in just hours.

Sources:

Used for biological explanations and for reminders of the different bodily changes in vampires

Used for basic history, descriptions, and a characteristics

Blood consumption after death

More history/characteristics

Vampire lore by region

104 notes · View notes

jerirose · 2 months

Text

I'm really bad at writing these and I'm not sure where to start... but I think I need help. As a large amount of you know in FEB 2023 I got COVID whilst on holiday. I am autoimmune and my body did not take kindly to it. I got it on the 3rd day of my holiday and spent the next two weeks in bed, flew back home (properly masked) with COVID and spent another week in bed with positive results. COVID took my voice for several months, from shredding my throat (I wasn't able to talk for 3 months afterwards and slowly had to gain back my ability to speak) and I gained a heart condition from it, along with breathing problems. I am still suffering, a year later from all of these, the last year has been an extremely difficult battle for me, along with my other illnesses, relearning my limits with my long COVID issues. I has taken away my ability to do the things I love, I used to spend everyday day painting almost all day, I can no longer do this because of chronic fatigue and I used to stream 6 days a week on a good week (I'd of called this my job, since I'm too ill to work), for 6 hours, now I am very limited in how much energy I can put into either. I finally have an appointment at a Post COVID Clinic... but I almost fell over when they told me the cost.. it's expensive and I have to pay up front (we are not sure if my insurance will cover it to get the money back - this we find out when I'm there), this is just the consult and I'm sure there will be follow ups that I have to pay for... If you can help even a little, even by boosting this post I would greatly appreciate it, it'd honestly mean the world to me. (Long) COVID has taken so much away from me, and I'd really like to be able to have a chance to get some normality back in my life. I've set up a Goal on Ko-Fi, if you can or would like to help.

#👽 stop speaking nonsense #chronic illness #long covid #disabled #sorry if this is written poorly - I'm dyslexic af 😅

51 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 7 months

Text

The ARC and the Monster

Summary: Three months after the events that left him with prosthetic legs and a prosthetic arm, ARC Knight Echo is on a journey to relearn himself. And while on this journey, he discovers a village that doesn't exist.

Pairing: ARC Knight Echo x Reader

Word Count: 5810

Warnings: Mentions of death

Mando'a Used: sen'ika - little bird (according to the website I saw, lol)

A/N: I am very bad at writing fight scenes, I should work on that, lol. This is a twist on Beauty and the Beast, and I'm actually happy with it, which is surprising.

Divider by saradika

“Morning again, darlin’,” You smile tiredly at the merchant, “Bacon and a fresh loaf of bread?”

“I don’t suppose you have anything new?” You ask as you lean against the counter.

The Merchant laughed, “You know I don’t, darlin’. One loaf of bread, and one rack of bacon. As normal.”

You sigh and rest your head on your palm, “I am so tired of bacon.” You say with a sigh.

“Ah, I know darlin’.” He reaches out and lightly pats your hand, “How are things at the palace?”

“Same as ever. As per normal.” You smile at him as you take the bag of food, “How’s the wife?”

“Exhausted. We both are. We never expected our son to be an infant for almost 30 years.” He sighs, he accepts the credits and you wave as you head towards the door.

“Maybe someday the curse will be broken,” You call from the door.

“You won’t find many people who still have hope, darlin’. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wave and step out of the shop, allowing the door to swing shut behind you. You neatly side-step several other people, and start walking the meandering path headed back towards the manor.

At this point, you can walk the path while wearing a blind-fold, you’re so familiar with the path between the village and the old mansion you call home.

You are, or were, the head chef for the Duke of these lands. In charge of all of the cooking and all of the food shopping. At the time it was a good job, high paying with incredible job security, and a chance to move up in the world.

Of course…that’s not what actually happened.

Thirty years ago a stranger appeared at the palace doors on the night of the young Baron’s 15th birthday. The Baron himself answered the door, though it wasn’t his duty, and he sent the guest away with a harsh word and a violent hand.

The Stranger was a Sorceress, and she was so put out by the Baron’s actions that she cursed the entire land. The Duke and Duchess vanished, trapped in a painting to your best guess, the young Baron twisted and changed, until his looks matched his personality…and everyone unfortunate enough to live in this Duchy ended up trapped in a time loop.

This day, the day of the Baron’s 15th birthday, repeats over and over and over again. And the only way for the Curse to break is if the Baron show’s any true remorse.

But…

Well…

He doesn’t.

You stop in front of the manor, and then turn to walk around the building to enter through the rear. No need to draw attention to yourself, if at all possible.

There are some good sides to being trapped in a time loop, you suppose as you push the door open. For example, anything that happens today will be reset when the clock strikes midnight. Any dishes that get broken will be repaired, any injuries will be healed, and any money spent will end up right back in your account.

Also, no one can die.

But no one can be born either.

You kind of feel bad for one of the Housekeepers, she was 7 months pregnant when this whole fiasco began, and now, thirty years later, she’s still 7 months pregnant.

But that not dying has been a boon. Especially those first few years when the Baron was so angry at everything that he lashed out at everyone.

It was incredibly…strange. Getting ripped to shreds and then waking up in bed the next morning like nothing happened.

Luckily, the Baron has since learned that his temper tantrums have no lasting effect, and has since locked himself away. You don’t know what he eats…and to be honest, you don’t care. You have more important things to do than deal with a self important brat.

You step around one of the butlers, who is dutifully dusting a vase, “Good morning, Chaz,” You greet.

“Good morning, Miss.” He replies, “Did you have a nice walk?”

Your smile is wry, “Well, it’s warm and sunny, right now, and not a cloud in the sky. So, I was miserable.”

He chuckles, “I sent the young ones to the kitchen for a baking lesson, they seemed thrilled.”

“Well, if I had the choice between cookies and math, I would choose cookies too, Chaz.” You joke as you lightly pat him on the shoulder, and then step around him.

“Quite right, Miss.” He says with a laugh, “Also, the Young Master is in a foul mood today, I would avoid the southern gardens.”

“When isn’t the Young Master in a foul mood.” You reply, “But I’ll tell people to stay clear.” You toss him one last smile, and walk the short distance from the side entrance to the kitchen, and you set your bag on the counter, “I have bread…and bacon.” you call out to your staff.

The room erupts into groans of dismay. “If I have to have bacon one more time,” One of the maids says dramatically as she drapes herself across the prep table, “I’m going to throw myself off a bridge.”

“That would be impressive since there are no bridges in the Loop.” You counter dryly, “Also. I’m making soup with bacon and chicken.” The moaning slows to a stop, “Great. Also, Chaz says stay out of the Southern Garden. Also, who’s doing baking lessons?”

“Granny’s got the kids,” One of the other maids calls from near the window, “And I saw the young Baron head into the Garden, he looked mad enough to spit fire.”

“Alright everyone, let’s get to work. We have a manor to feed.” You call, and the room devolves into organized chaos, and you smile. Running a kitchen is a dance, and it’s a dance you’ve performed over ten thousand times. Everyone is in their positions, and though the room looks chaotic…well, they’re performing a masterpiece.

You smile and slide yourself into your position, and begin your part of the dance.

***************

It has been three months since the events that saw ARC Knight Echo losing his arm, and both of his legs in a magical explosion. And while he has prosthetics, and they work well, and he’s comfortable with them, he’s still not comfortable with his new body.

It’s why he went to Rex and asked for time. Time to heal on his own, without people hovering around him. Time to get used to the prosthetics and the way that his body moves now.

And after two weeks of camping, he’s starting to feel more like himself. Still, he’s not quite ready to return home just yet. For all that he claims that he hates camping…he’s actually enjoying himself. Enjoying the hunting and the fishing, and navigating the land with nothing more than a map and a compass.

Still, Echo is beginning to think it’s time to return home. There’s only so much time he can spend on his own before he starts missing his brothers, and starts talking to the trees around him.

He glances at his map, and then at the bridge several feet away, “Well…I’ll get to the top of the hill, and then I’ll turn around and head home.” He says to himself. He looks over the map one more time, and then folds it and slides it into his jacket pocket. He then hefts his bag over his shoulder, and he crosses the bridge.

He walks up the shallow hill, crests the top, and then he stops. Slowly, without moving his eyes, he pulls the map out of his jacket and he looks down at it, and then back in front of him.

There is not supposed to be a village here. And yet there is.

A well settled village, at that. The houses look old, like they’ve been there for a while, and the road is cobbled, rather than dirt. Echo pockets his map, and carefully adjusts his jacket so he’s able to rest his hand on the pommel of his blade.

And then he starts walking down the cobbled road.

This is strange, and he loves solving strange.

******************

Once more, you walk the distance between the manor and the village. You go to the grocers, you buy bacon and bread while making jokes about having literally anything else, and you leave the shop.

Normally you don’t pay any attention to your surroundings, you’ve done this thousands of times now, but for some reason, today you do. Maybe you’re just feeling wistful, remembering the days when you could crest the hill and cross the bridge and head into the forest.

You flicker your gaze towards the village exit, and your breath catches in your throat.

There, standing next to the welcome sign, is a man. A strange man.

And, after thirty years, there are no strange men in this village.

You turn and walk towards him. He’s tall, though not the tallest man you’ve met, with dark skin and dark hair. As you get closer, you notice that his hair is curly, and that he’s got a prosthetic arm.

By the time you’re close enough to talk to him, you’re sure. “You’re from outside,” You breathe out.

He pins you in place with a curious stare, “If you mean that I’m not from this village, then yes, you’re right.” He looks away from you, his dark eyes scanning the village properly, “This village isn’t on any map.”

A pained look crosses your face, “We used to be,” You say quietly, “But…not anymore, I suppose.”

He glances at you, and then at some of the other people in the village, some have stopped what they’re doing to stare at him, while others blatantly ignore him, “Why are they looking at me like that?”

“People don’t come here,” You explain, “I…I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“I’m Echo. Echo Fett. I’m an ARC Knight of Mandalore.”

You introduce yourself with a smile, “I work at the manor, as the head chef.” You explain as you motion, vaguely, to the manor, “Um, so you asked what people are looking at you-”

“Yeah. They’re staring at me. I know prosthetics aren’t normal-”

“What? No! That doesn’t have anything to do with it.” You hasten to say, as you reach out and touch his arm lightly, “Just…please, will you listen to our story?”

He turns his attention back on you, “Yeah, alright.”

You tug him off the main road, and to a small park. Families used to picnic there, but not anymore.

You sit on one of the benches, and wait until he’s sitting next to you. “So…what’s the story with this place?” Echo asks.

“Um…okay. So this story begins thirty years ago, on the night of the Baron’s 15th birthday.” You explain, your voice quiet, “You have to understand, the Baron was never a good child. He was always harsh, always cold, always mean…no one ever had anything good to say about him. I can’t even describe just how awful of a boy the Baron is.”

“Okay. So he’s a brat, the son of a Duke?”

“That’s right,” You nod, “Well, there was a surprise visitor. And for some reason the Baron answered the door himself. He turned the stranger away with violence…and it turned out that the stranger was actually a sorceress.”

“Oh no.”

“The entire Duchy was cursed as well.” You say quietly, “The Duke and Duchess were trapped in paintings. The Baron has become a monster. And the rest of us…well, we’re trapped.”

“In what way?” Echo asks.

“We have to live the same day, over and over and over again. We can do different things, within reason, but time never moves on for us.” Your voice is soft, “You’re the first new person we’ve met in years.”

He leans back against the bench, and he doesn’t say anything for a really long time, “So…what happens when time resets with me still here?”

You bite your lower lip, “I don’t know.” You hesitate, “I would suggest staying away from the manor, though. Until we know if the loop affects you…you need to stay away from the baron.”

“Why?” Echo asks.

“Because he’ll kill you.”

Echo stills, and something flinty enters his eyes, “Does he kill people often?”

“Oh, he hasn’t killed any of his employees in five years now.” You try to soothe, “And, well, it resets at midnight anyway, so…”

“Does that make it better?” Echo asks, his voice very gentle.

Your hands shake slightly as you remember razor sharp claws and teeth dripping with saliva, “...no.” You admit. You clench your hands tightly in your lap, to try and stop the trembling.

Echo glances at your hands, and reaches to place one of his hands over yours, “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

“For now.” You answer softly, your hands moving slightly to lightly grip his hand, the metal is cool under your hands, but is also soothing somehow, “It’s why you need to leave.” You say as you look from his hand to his face, “If you stay here-”

“No.” He interrupts, he smiles at you to soften the harshness of his word, “Look, you said that the curse is based around the Baron, right?”

“Yeah. He changed, and then his parents were trapped in the painting, and then the duchy was trapped in the loop. In that order.” You reply.

“Okay, so with the curse centered on the Baron, then to kill the curse we need to kill the Baron,”

You’re already shaking your head, “He’s too violent. If we get too close to him he’ll kill us.”

Echo frowns thoughtfully, “Then I’ll do it.”

You start and stare at him with wide eyes.

“I’m an ARC Knight, this is what we do.” Echo explains, his voice very kind.

“Free people from decade long curses?” You ask doubtfully.

He laughs softly, “Fight things that other people can’t.” He squeezes your hand, very gently, “Trust me.”

You hesitate for a long moment, and then you slowly nod. “Okay Echo.”

He smiles at you and gently releases your hands, “I’m going to need your help. Can you get me into the manor?”

Your gaze lingers on his clothing for a moment, and anxiety twists your stomach, “What if he claws you?” You ask, “His claws are…they ripped through me in one…”

Echo reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small metal orb, it’s glowing faintly, “This is an armor sphere. This is where I store my ARC armor when I’m not actively using it. Don’t worry, sen’ika, I’ll be wearing armor when I fight the Baron.”

“...okay.” You stand and gather your shopping bag in your arms, “Then you should probably follow me.”

“Yes ma’am,”

Echo follows you through the streets, and down the path that leads to the manor, and he follows you around the building to the side entrance. You hold the door to the manor open for him, and he steps into the worn down hallway that leads to the servants quarters.

Chaz is waiting for you. His severe gaze looks from Echo, to you, and then back to Echo. “The Young Master is in the library,” He says in a clipped tone, “I have instructed everyone to remain in their rooms for the time being.” He exhales slowly, and then lightly touches Echo on the shoulder, “Good luck, young man.”

“Thank you,” Echo replies, growing slightly startled when Chaz bows deeply, and then turns and vanishes into a side room. “Sen’ika, I need someplace to put my armor on.” He says to you.

“We can use the kitchen, it’s the one place in the manor the Baron never comes to.” You say, “Plus it’ll be empty right now.”

“Great, lead the way.” He follows you down a side hallway and into the kitchen, where you help him clear one of the prep tables, and he activates the little sphere, and lays all of his armor out on the table, and he quickly starts strapping the pieces to his body, “Where’s the library?” He asks.

“It’s part of the main building, on the third floor.” You explain, “You’ll never find it unless I show you…it’s not like there are any maps of the manor.”

He cuts his gaze towards you, “I don’t want you anywhere near the fighting.”

“I’ll be careful,” You reply, “But you’ll never find it without me.”

He sighs quietly, “Fine, but you will listen when I tell you to do something.”

“Yes sir,”

He finishes pulling his armor on, and he hooks his blade to his hip and then grabs his helmet, “Alright. How big is the library?”

“Massive. The Duchess was all for education.” You answer as you head out of the kitchen and into the hall, “She purchased several copies of every book ever printed and all of them are kept in the library.”

“So it’s cramped?”

“Less so than you might assume…it’s just very big.” You guide him through the twisting halls, until you reach the main living quarters. Unlike the servants quarters, which are clean and well maintained, the main house is dimly lit.

The wallpaper is ripped and torn, and there are some places where the wooden floorboards have been ripped up and flung into the wall. Pictures have been torn to shreds, and none of the furniture is usable. “The Baron did all of this?”

You nod, “He destroys the house every morning…at this point it doesn’t even take him an hour to destroy the house.” You carefully step around one of the floorboards, “Follow me, we need to go upstairs.”

You move silently through the house, and Echo is just as quiet, in spite of the armor he’s wearing. Finally you stop in front of an ornate door, “Is this the library?” Echo asks, his voice hushed.

“It is,” You hesitate, “You can still leave, Echo.”

“I’m not doing that.” Echo replies.

You sigh softly, and then you push the door open just enough that the pair of you can enter. Just like every other room in the main house, the library is destroyed, but you lightly touch Echo’s arm and you point at the ceiling, “There.”

Echo’s gaze follows your finger and he inhales sharply, “That used to be a man?” He asks.

The creature is shrouded in shadow, with claws long enough to rip a man to shreds without trying, and teeth that barely remain in his jaw. He clings to the ceiling, as though gravity has no effect on him.

“Yes,” You whisper, “That used to be the Baron.”

Echo motions for you to get back, and draws his blade, “How do I get him down?” He hisses.

You glance at him nervously, and then you lift your fingers to your mouth, and you release a loud whistle that echoes through the chamber. And then you immediately duck under a fallen bookcase.

The Baron’s eyes snap open, revealing blood red eyes, and he releases a noise that sounds like a million angry snakes hissing at the same time. And you watch as the Baron moves, lunging at Echo with his terrifying speed.

But Echo is just as fast, and his blade is just as sharp as the Baron’s claws.

You watch, terrified, as Echo proves just how good the average ARC Knight is, and you gasp when, in a smooth motion, Echo severs the Baron’s head from his body.

You slide out from your hiding space, and take several steps towards Echo, when the pressure in the room changes suddenly. You clamp your hands over your ears as the pressure increases and becomes painful.

You feel Echo’s hand lightly against your shoulder, and just barely hear him calling your name. And then there’s the sensation of a baseball bat slamming against your chest and the world goes dark.

**********

You wake with a painful groan. Your entire body hurts, and your head is throbbing. You let out a noise of discontent as your bedroom door bursts open and Chaz hurries in, “Good you’re awake. Get up, get dressed.”

You groan and roll out of bed, landing on the floor with a painful thump, “Why does everything hurt?” You rasp out.

“You were standing right there when the curse reset,” Chaz replies as he pulls you to your feet, “You took the brunt of the reset.” He explains.

“Oh…it sucks.”

“It does.” He agrees as he shoves an outfit into your hands, “Get dressed, you need to get out of the manor.”

You clumsily take the clothes and start peeling off your sleepwear, replacing them with the loose tunic Chaz gave you, “Why?”

“Echo killed the Baron yesterday, didn’t he?” Chaz asks in return.

“Yeah. He did. But if the world reset-”

“I broke a plate yesterday, it’s still broken.”

Your fingers pause on the ties of your shirt, “That’s impossible.”

“It’s improbable, but killing the Baron caused a change. You need to go back to the village and see if you can find Echo. He’s not in the manor.” Chaz pauses and leans in, “I think he was flung outside of the loop, since he’s not a part of it.” He motions to the blue and black backpack sitting in the corner of your room.

You pull your trousers on, and then pull on your boots, “That makes sense,” you say quietly, “What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He’ll come back. I have a good feeling.” Chaz replies, and then he grips your shoulders tightly, “Listen. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I think if we kill the Baron once for every year that we’ve been cursed, the curse will break.”

“30 deaths? There’s no way. We already know that the Baron remembers things that happen in previous resets.” You remind him, “There’s only so many times that Echo will be able to kill him with a sword.”

“Agreed. Don’t worry, we’ll handle it.” Chaz pushes you out the door, “Now go!”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You allow him to propel you out of your room, and down the hall, and then out the side door, and he slams the door behind you.

You huff out a heavy breath, and groan as pain shoots through you. You slowly walk the familiar path to the village, where you’re greeted by enthusiastic shouts. The grocer is missing a loaf of bread he sold the day before. The baker’s flour level is down just a little bit.

There’s change for the first time in years.

You walk to the Village sign, and lean heavily against it, your arm folded protectively against your ribs. You had forgotten how pain lingered. You don’t like it.

Your head snaps up when you see movement from in front of you, and a relieved smile crosses your face when Echo, still clad in armor, walks over to you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

He pulls his helmet off, “Are you? I found myself on the other side of the bridge when I woke up. Why are you holding your ribs?”

“They’re bruised, I think.” You reply, “I woke up in bed because of the reset.”

“So it didn’t work.” Echo says with a frown.

“Well, it is. But the curse is just…cracked. At least, that’s what we think.” You step closer to him, “Chaz broke a plate yesterday, and it’s still broken.”

Echo frowns, “You have a theory?”

“We think that if the Baron dies once for every year that we’ve been trapped here, the curse will break.”

“Thirty deaths?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Echo exhales sharply, “How many more times can I use my sword before he learns how to avoid it?”

“Better to not risk trying it again,” You reply as you reach out and take Echo’s hand, “But, we have lots of weapons…assuming you know how to use them.”

“I haven’t encountered a weapon I can’t use,” Echo replies dryly, “Come on, back to the manor.”

“Yeah.” This time Echo guides you to the manor, and through the side door.

Chaz is sitting in the kitchen with one of every weapon from the armory, “He’s in the west garden today,” He says as soon as he sees Echo, “Which one of these do you want?”

Echo presses his blade into your hands, “Keep this safe for me,” He says, and you nod, curling your arms around it, while he picks through the weapons, eventually grabbing a pair of axes which he spins expertly, “How do I get to the west garden?”

“I’ll show you,” You say.

“You’re already hurt,” Chaz says, “I’ll show you,” He says to Echo.

“But-”

Echo smiles at you as he pulls his helmet on, “Don’t worry, sen’ika. I’ll be fine.”

You watch him walk out the room, led by Chaz, and you tighten your grip around Echo’s blade.

***********

You wake up in your bed, dressed in the tunic and pants from the day before, with your arms wrapped securely around Echo’s blade.

You lay in bed for ten minutes. Whatever Echo did to the Baron clearly worked, since the day reset less than three hours after it began.

You roll out of your bed, and hurry out of the manor. And by the time you reach the village sign, Echo is waiting for you, his arms folded. “You’re okay?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

“A few bruises,” Echo replies as he takes his blade back, “I don’t want to get close to him again, I don’t think.”

“We’ll figure something out.” You say as you hug him quickly.

“I’m sure we will.”

The third death involves a massive amount of crossbows, which pin the Baron to the wall of the ballroom.

The eighth death involves a truly terrifying amount of fire.

The fifteenth death involves an explosive made from flour and gunpowder.

“Halfway there,” Echo says as he leans back on the bench in the garden, “Only fifteen more deaths.”

“Are you okay?” You ask as you reach out and touch a bruise on his cheek.

“Just exhausted, sen’ika.” He smiles at you, “The people sure seem happy with all of the changes,” He notes.

“Change is good, Echo. Being trapped is…it’s a kind of hell. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” You say quietly.

“Well, with any luck, you’ll soon be free from this curse.” Echo says with a grin, “What’ll you do first?”

“Leave. I’m going to go literally anywhere else, and I’m never going to eat bacon again.”

Echo laughs, “Maybe I’ll take you back to Mandalore with me,” he says lightly, “It’s very different from this little village.”

“Oh, I’d like that-” You start to say, only to pause when something hits your face. The bustle of the village, just one street over, descends into silence, as the sky opens and rain starts falling.

You scramble to your feet, holding your hands out as the cool water splashes against your hands. And then you laugh, “Rain,” You whisper, “It’s raining!” You laugh again and spin in the rain, turning to grin at Echo, “Echo! You brought the rain back!”

From the next street over you can hear triumphant shouting, cheers of delight, and laughter.

You spin away from Echo, giggles of sheer delight falling from your lips as you stand in the pouring rain.

And Echo…well, he leans his elbows on his knees and he watches you with a fond smile on his lips. And when loud music starts playing the next street over, he gets to his feet, and he lightly takes your hand in his, an impish look crossing his face, “May I have this dance?”

You grin at him, and spin into his arms, “You may,” You agree as you look up into his eyes.

The seventeenth death involves an intricate trap with ropes, pulleys, and the heaviest bookshelf in the manor.

The twenty-first death involves a pit filled with lances.

The twenty-ninth death is much more straightforward, with Echo using a truly amazing number of potions to kill the Baron.

“This is the last one,” You whisper as you apply a healing ointment to Echo’s arm, and then reach up to patch up the bruise on his cheek.

“I think you’re more worried about this than I am.” Echo teases as he gently grabs your wrist, and lowers them away from his face, “Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”

“This is the closest we’ve been to freedom in years, Echo. I’m just…I’m nervous, that’s all.”

He smiles at you, warm and soft, and he leans in and lightly presses his forehead against yours, “There’s no need to be nervous.” He murmurs, “I’m going to take care of you.”

You release a shaky breath, “Okay. Are you sure you want to use your sword?” You ask one more time, just to make sure.

He laughs softly, “Yes. I’m sure. He won’t be expecting it.”

“But-”

Echo presses a light kiss to the inside of your wrist, “Trust me, cyar’ika. This is for the best.”

“I do trust you, but I’m still nervous.” You murmur, even as heat floods your face at his gentle kiss.

He smiles reassuringly at you, and gently releases you, “Go and take your position.”

You nod once, and take half a step back. Then you hesitate, and step back towards him and stand on your toes to press a kiss against his cheek, “Good luck, Echo.” And then you turn and hurry away.

Echo lets out a quiet chuckle, and then he pulls his helmet on. He walks the familiar path to the main room of the house, and he glances up at the second floor, where all of the employees of the Manor are standing, watching.

There’s the sound of angry hissing, and then the Baron is there. Twenty-nine deaths have left the creature angry and paranoid. Angry enough that his gaze was locked on Echo, and not any of the innocent people in the room.

Echo spins his blade with the ease of someone who knows what he’s doing and he takes a step towards the creature, “It’s time for this to end.” Echo says flatly.

The creature snarls and throws himself at Echo.

But Echo has already killed this creature twenty-nine times. He knows how he moves, how he acts in a given situation, and he’s clever enough to be able to make educated guesses on how he’ll react in unknown situations.

The whole encounter has already played out, hundreds of different times, in Echo’s mind. He already knows how it’s going to end. And so do the people watching the last fight.

Echo moves, just enough out of the way to not get hurt. He activates the runes on the blade, and he strikes. The Baron releases an inhuman scream, and spins to try and flee, but Echo strikes two more times.

And the creature falls still.

Nothing happens for a long moment. And then the shadows that cover the creature disperse in every direction, washing over all of the people, then across everything in the Duchy, and then the shadows vanish as if they never existed to begin with.

You look at the massive clock on the wall and you watch as the calendar and time speed up to match the current day and year, and then you hurry down the stairs, “Echo!”

He pulls his helmet off and grunts as you crash into his side, “I’m okay, he didn’t even touch me.” His arm slides around your shoulder as you hug him tightly.

“No!” You both turn at the wail coming from the young man kneeling on the ground, “No! How could you? I was strong! I had power!” The Baron, a teenager again, gets to his feet, his teeth bared. “I’ll kill you!”

Echo lightly pushes you behind him as the teenager lunges at him. He draws his fist back, and then slams his fist into the boys face, sending him reeling back to the ground, “On the authority given to me by the Royal Family of Mandalore, you’re under arrest.”

“I was cursed!” The boy spat, “You can’t arrest me for being cursed!”

“No, but I can arrest you for the repeated murders of your employees. Just because it didn’t stick doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” Echo says flatly, and then he presses the tip of his blade against the teenager’s throat, “Unless you think that none of them will testify against you.”

The boy hesitates and then looks away.

“That’s what I thought.” Echo effortlessly cuffs him, and then tosses him against a wall.

“So…what happens next?” Chaz asks.

“I have to make a phone call to Mandalore, we’ll get people out here to help you all get resettled. Thirty years is a long time, my friend.” Echo says as he clasps Chaz’s shoulder, “Although, unless anyone wants to stay here, we’ll probably reach out to different nations to help you get settled somewhere else.” He smiles at the group of people, “A new start…for all of you.”

He steps away from Chaz as the older man begins giving orders for information to get passed onto the village proper, and he leaves the manor. You chase after him, “So, what happens with me, then?”

“A new start,” Echo says, stopping as you hurry to his side, “Doing whatever you want, wherever you want.”

“What if I want to stay near you?” You ask.

He pauses and looks at you, “Well, I might be able to help with that.” Echo says with a slow smile. “If that’s what you really want.”

You hum thoughtfully, “You brought the rain back, Echo. And you fought for our freedom. There’s nothing I want more than to stay with you.”

He laughs softly, “Come here, sen’ika.”

You step closer to him and he lightly hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer, and then he lightly bumps his forehead against yours.

“I have an idea,” Echo says lazily, “How about, once I make this call, we go down to the village and buy sandwiches from the cafe, and we have a picnic while we wait for help to arrive?”

You rest your hands on his chest plate, “Like a date?” You ask softly.

“Exactly like a date,” He confirms.

You smile at him brightly, and you raise up on your toes to brush your lips against his, “I like that idea.”

He smiles against your lips, “Glad to hear it, cyar’ika. Now, I really do need to make this call, but you don’t have to move if you don’t want to. Actually, they’re probably going to have some questions for you, so it’s best that you don’t move-”

You grin and lay your cheek against his shoulder, it’s not a happily ever after, not yet at least, but it’s a start and that’s all you can ask for.

#star wars #tcw #Star Wars AU #Knights and Magic AU #ARC Trooper Echo x Reader #TBB Echo x Reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

59 notes · View notes

oceanic-sunsets · 2 years

Text

hey, everyone! as you know, there has been an incredible increase of byler fics on ao3, and since it can be hard to find what do read or how to find what you're looking for, i thought i could contribute with my own list of fic recs. This is only part one, i'll keep updating as i read. Also, if you have any fic rec for me, please share them with me via ask or dms!

None of the fics in this list are rated Explicit.

The italics represent the fic summary. The comment underneath is my opinion.

...

a game of truths - RomeoWrites | 22.5k | canon compliant “Tell me something that you’ve never told me before.” OR Mike and Will play a game of truths. I loved how their relationship was portrayed here. The change between being so close, to suddenly not telling each other stuff and even lying, and then slowly trying to rebuild their friendship and trust. Their relationship developed beautifully. I wish i could read this again for the first time!

no end to this want - astrobi | 21.4k | canon compliant "Mike thinks back to the painting Will gave him, rolled up and placed carefully in his dresser drawer because for some reason it felt too wrong to hang it up on the walls with everything else. Too intimate. Like Will had made it for his eyes only. Or, apparently as everyone else thought, some mystery lover in California. And then he thinks about Will dozing off on his bed, and saying I think I’m in love with you all soft and slowed down from the inertia of sleep, and that’s right about when Mike starts to feel seriously lightheaded. He leans back against his bed and focuses very hard on taking deep, even breaths." Mike contemplates his feelings for Will Byers, partakes in a concerning amount of swooning, and learns to drive. Sort of. This was amazing. I love reading from Mike's pov because i wanna study his brain under a microscope. This fic takes you through the process of realizing his feelings while trying to mend his friendship with Will, and where he accidentally tells the party Will likes someone and they think it's some mysterious girl and it's hilarious. you're not gonna regret reading this one!

i'm tearing you asunder - smoosnoom (moonsooms) | 21k | canon compliant “Did I do something wrong?” Mike questions, mouth twisted in a frown, eyes less wide than they were a few moments ago, sleepiness gone. His arms stay at his sides, although his fingers fiddle with his sleeves. “What did I do wrong?” Will frowns back. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Mike doesn’t look like he believes him. Will doesn’t blame him. “Then why do you keep leaving?” The world ends, and then some. Mike and Will find each other again, amidst the debris and distance. I'm pretty sure a lot of you have already read this one, but i just have to include it. I love how, from Mike's perspective, Will is the one pulling away from him. We're so used to reading everything through his eyes, that sometimes we forget how confused Mike must feel. But then again, he fails to understand how sidelined Will has felt for a while. They misunderstand each other, which is hard after so many years of friendship and being so close. This fic takes us through the journey of them relearning how to trust each other and be vulnerable.

i’d love to see me from your point of view - unidentifiedblackthorn | 8k | canon compliant Now that Will’s sitting and Mike’s the one that’s standing, he looks impossibly tall. Tall and lanky, and huge. He should sit back down, Will thinks, lay back down next to Will and stay in their own secluded little bubble. “I really want to kiss you,” Mike says, and Will’s eyes snap back up to his so violently he thinks he hears his own neck crack with the force of it. “Don’t,” Will croaks, before his brain has even processed the words. “Don’t say that.” “Okay,” Mike says easily, still staring. And what the actual fuck is going on? Is Will hallucinating? Is the weed making him hallucinate? “So sausage and pepperoni?” Will stares dumbly at him. “Um - yeah. Yes.” “Cool,” Mike replies and then just turns around and leaves Will sitting dumbly in his own room. or Mike and Will get high on Jonathan’s weed and Mike has an amazing idea. Just as the summary says: basically Mike and Will get high and Mike makes a petition. This was hilarious, beautiful, and a little heartbreaking, you name it! it has everything. I just really love Mike in this one:)

darling, you got to let me know (should i stay or should i go?) - andiwriteordie | 11k | canon compliant (pre vol. 2) Nobody expects it to be Mike. Everyone is expecting it to be Max or Nancy, who both have already been targeted. Or maybe El, whose childhood in Hawkins Lab makes her the perfect target. Or Will, who has gone through more than enough trauma in the past three years alone for all of them. Nobody expects it to be Mike. Or, the one in which it's Mike, not Will, who Vecna targets. Mike gets vecna'ed, and we get to see what he's really going through. This was a great fic to read while we waited for vol. 2, but it's always going to be an amazing read! and honestly, everything this author writes is wonderful, i'm not including all of their fics only because i haven't read them all (yet).

what a goddamn kiss to think about - zadurn | 5k | i think au? unsure of the clasification here i'm sorry “Can I kiss you?” he asks. Hearing the words out loud makes everything feel that much more real, and Mike loves it. He thinks he might love Will, too, and the thought doesn’t feel new. It’s like a stone that’s half buried in the dirt but just got kicked loose. It’s something that’s been deep in Mike’s heart for a while, years, maybe, but just got unearthed. Will pushes him away, and Mike has no idea what he did wrong. He was just telling the truth. Friends don’t lie. “What?” Will asks, voice sounding kind of choked. He’s grimacing, and Mike wants to un-say whatever bad thing he said so that Will smiles at him again. “I— I asked if I could kiss you,” Mike says, and Will shushes him. He looks around frantically. “Mike,” Will replies. He sounds tired. “You can’t just ask that.” “Why not? I want to kiss you so I asked.” “But you don’t, Mike. You don’t want to… to kiss me. You’re just drunk.” – alternatively: mike pines while drunk, and then he pines while sober. Listen, i just really love pining!mike fics where he asks Will if he can kiss him and Will thinks it's not real because Mike is under the influence of some substance. This was such a fun read! the ending was beautiful!

when the dust settles - teafortozier | 4.8k | canon compliant When all is said and done, days later, when Hawkins is condemned and quarantined and the town evacuated, Wheelers and Byers divided between four motel rooms in the nearest town with any vacancies after the mass exodus from Hawkins—it’s just Mike and the painting. * The post-season 4 fix-it the Duffers are too cowardly to write. They have the very necessary talks where they address what should've been addressed in the show too. This is Mike's pov, which, at this point, is notable i love haha. One of my favorite fix-it fics, definitely!

why would you ever kiss me? - aghostlybreath | 51k (so far. ongoing.) | canon divergence When Eleven saves Will from Vecna she gets more than she bargained for when they wake up in the wrong bodies. Now to prevent Vecna from infiltrating the mind of his most perfect host the two of them must pretend to be the other. Will grapples with the feelings that he’s trying to push away. Mike wonders why it feels like he’s falling in love all over again. What will become of everything when Hawkins finally falls? In order to save Will from Vecna, El traps herself in his mind. What he doesn't know, is that this causes them to switch bodies. And on top of that, they can't tell anyone about their switch because Vecna would find out if he entered their mind. Soo, Will has to pretend to be El, and El has to pretend to be Will. And let me tell you, i can't stop thinking about this fic since i read it, seriously. This scenario makes possible to explore a lot of themes and situations! Will suddenly has to deal with having Mike's attention all the time, and El understands how it feels to be ignored/pushed away by someone you love. Willel is amazing here, too, they start bonding even more thanks to their particular situation. And Mike... Poor Mike, he's so confused and doesn't know what he's feeling and why. This fic has everything! it's funny at times, really sad and heartbreaking at others, clever, and makes you go through so many different emotions. Be aware it's still ongoing, but don't worry, it's usually quick to update!

Us against the world - wasabi8000 | 13k | canon compliant They were right, Mike really is oblivious. Which is why when he figures out Will likes him, his entire world is turned on its axis. Or Mike finally puts the pieces together. Chaos ensues. It's really common to have Mike be absolutely oblivious to what is happening with Will, but what would happen if he figured it out? he's a little clueless when it comes to feelings, but he's also smart. This fic explores that. A great read that differs a little from the most popular interpretation of "mike doesn't figure it out".

i think we're alone now - friendstolovers | 3.5k | canon divergence i think? "Whatever," Lucas shrugs. "You’re just jealous that you aren’t getting any.” Mike raises an eyebrow, like he knows something the rest of them don't. Will looks like he wants to drown him. He probably deserves it. In which Will has a love bite, the Party freaks out about it, and Mike is jealous of himself. Teens being teens, Mike being jealous and not being able to stop thinking about Will. The party being clueless as to what is really going on haha. It was a sweet and fun read! perfect for when you want to step away from angst for a bit and are looking for something more lighthearted.

Mike Wheeler is Doing Just Fine - AtomosphericNonsense | 5k | canon compliant Mike Wheeler is doing just fine. No. Really. He’s okay. He’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with him. Nothing to see here, just mind your own fucking business. AKA: local stressed and queer teen has a mental breakdown, yells at a lake, and then has several more breakdowns. This is a Mike character study, in which he has several meltdowns. Luckily, he has people who help him endure it. Steve and Robin are wonderful here!

the winner takes it all - andiwriteordie | 9k | canon compliant “Honestly, I bet they’ll end up dating at one point or another. I’ve just got a feeling.” “I’ll take that bet,” Steve says, voice filled with certainty. “Bet you ten bucks Wheeler and Byers are just friends and don’t get together.” Robin and Steve make a bet on whether Will and Mike will end up together. Naturally, chaos ensues. Just as established by the summary, Steve and Robin make a bet about whether Will and Mike will get together. Then it escalates, more people get involved, and the bet changes from if to when. Such a fun and entertaining read!

when will you accept yourself? - awhstrangerthings | 8k | canon compliant, but post s3 and pre s4. There was only one thing he and Robin Buckley had in common; they both were undeniable nerds. So he's a little confused when he walks into the Video Store, and Robin offers advice of all things. After many visits and conversations about life, relationships, who he is as a person— Mike realises why he's been so drawn to converse with Robin, and that there were two things they had in common after all. Over the course of a month, we see Mike Wheeler in a state of vulnerability that we've never seen him in before as he comes to terms with himself, his sexuality, and his feelings for a certain friend in California with the help of Robin. Or, Mike Wheeler and his blossoming friendship with Robin Buckley. We have quite a few fics of Robin befriending Will, which i love, but now think about this: Mike befriending Robin. Their friendship is truly everything!

head over heels - ashhaxkerman | 11k | canon compliant On their way to Hawkins, the group decides to stay at a motel for the night. Mike and Will get a moment alone to talk. In which Will's birthday is forgotten and Mike attempts to fix their friendship, which he realizes, is something so much more.

we could be heroes (just for one day) - buffymysavior | 8k | canon compliant (pre vol. 2) Will can’t help but feel a sense of dread as Jonathan speeds past the familiar “Welcome to Hawkins” sign, the cold air pouring in through the windows and making the back of his neck prickle in a way it hasn’t since he’d left town. The past week had been…unexpected, to say the least. At the most, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he would give Mike the painting currently sticking out of the front of his backpack and that Mike would suddenly remember how much Will meant to him, and then things could go back to how they were supposed to be, and maybe Will could write off the past year of loneliness and self-pity as overthinking and nothing more. Instead, he found himself spending the week in the back of a pizza truck that had at one point housed a dead body, and when they weren’t in danger of getting shot by rogue government agents, he was trying to ignore the butterflies Mike Wheeler gave him whenever he smiled at him like it meant something. This fic written by my friend! Will gets vecna'ed, and Mike has some realizations. Although it doesn't follow vol. 2 events because it was written before, it deserves a read! It's both heartbreaking and sweet:) Also, you can pretend Mike's monologue here is the real one, instead of the one we got in the show haha.

Unbreakable Connection - Tea_For_One_Please | 20k | Soulmates AU At midnight on everyone's sixteenth birthday, they receive a connection of some kind with their soulmate. Some are connected by strings. Some have contact marks, a shadow of the first time their soulmate touches them. For some, the first words their soulmate says to them appears on their skin. Some find objects that their soulmate has misplaced. On the night of Will Byers' sixteenth birthday, he hears a little voice in his head. But whom does the voice belong to? Will he ever get to meet the mysterious "Gabriel"? This is the first AU on this list! I'm usually drawn to canonverse fics, but this caught my attention and i don't regret reading at all! It was great and their bond was portrayed in a unique way. Definitely worth a read!

Expect part 2 soon, as i'm consuming fics as if my life depended on it!

#byler #byler fics #byler fic rec #fic rec #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #seriously making this list i realized how much i love mike's pov #i just wanna read his mind and study every thought....#i love him #writers please never stop posting fics from mike's pov #i need more #im serious if y'all have Mike's pov fics recs please send them to me #RIGHT NOW

514 notes · View notes

iavenjqasdf · 4 months

Text

👷‍♀️occupational hazards🐜

WorkerAnt, the world's app-first construction contracting platform, revolutionized the building-building industry. All you gotta do is just scroll through a couple of boring legal things on your phone and check some boxes and voila; you have everything you need to try and build a living with your own two hands! Who needs a fancy degree, or the hassle of going to a trade school? I certainly didn't!

They didn't even make me do a drug test, or ask why my name and sex didn't match what it still says on my license, so honestly it's like a win/win for everyone involved.

I did my paid training in like 20 minutes; I just needed to watch a few videos telling me where to go and what I’ll get fired for, plus one on how to use pronouns respectfully.

I already knew most of the stuff they were telling me, so I pretty much just got paid to relearn what the right things to call myself are for liability purposes. I usually do that for free!

Every day, all I gotta do is show up at the check-in location, get handed all my tools, and then I take my mandatory 30 minute lunch break in the app right as I wait in line for the elevator up to the job site, so I can focus on nothing but work for the next 12 hours. I don’t need to worry about food anyways, because they sometimes throw pizza parties for us, and there might be a few slices left when I come back down.

Most of the time work’s pretty boring; I'm just hammering some boards together or whatever. The whole building looks like it's basically already all built, so I'm not sure what all the things we're attaching and connecting to each other are supposed to do, and I don’t get paid enough to care.

But I can’t complain. It’s an honest job; I have tasks to accomplish and all the tools I need to accomplish them, as long as I don't fuck something up.

I'm very happy with this arrangement and it's all worked out really great for me so far.

It does get a bit lonely up there sometimes though.

There is my one coworker, Lana; I think she might also be trans, though it's kinda hard to tell under the hard hat goggles and respirator I always see her wearing. But she's always polite at me and doesn’t give me any trouble, and the bits of her voice I’ve heard that aren’t drowned over by power tools sound really nice.

Sometimes I think about it even when she's not around, which now that I think about it is kinda like stealing from the job site, and that’s a firable offense, so maybe I shouldn't be doing it.

She tends to work late like me, too. It takes us both longer than everyone else to finish all our tasks, but at least they pay us almost as much!

Tonight, it's New Year's Eve, and we're the only ones still up there; hammering stuff together, unable to look out at the empty city below, lit up and then abandoned for the season, because I'm being paid the minimum tipped wage to cut a 2x4 with a dinky little dollar store dremel, and we have to finish up before the sun sets, cause the cost of running the lights gets taken outta your pay.

BZZSCHLKK!

And now my finger hurts too.

I look down, staring at the little squiggly meat piece of guy lying on the workbench, and after a minute I realize that oh shit, that used to be part of my right pinky.

So might the scarlet mist that now covers most of the walls and floor. I’m gonna have to get THAT painted over before the end of my shift, too.

First things first, though.

"Um, hey Lana?"

The whirring echoing from the other side of the room powers down. Lana pulls her plastic goggles over the rim of her hard hat, both now spritzed ever-so-gently with my crimson phalangemarrow. She looks only mildly concerned as she swims upstream along the spatter pattern.

One of the stickers on her hat catches the sunlight, holographic prism reflections dazzling my vision before my pattern recognition software kicks in-

Y-yeah, I know what that logo is. I’m too afraid to ask her if she does, too though. They make s*x t*ys, after all, and I think those are by definition Not Safe For Work.

Without saying a word she grabs my wrist, yanking my hand up to her face to examine it. Even under the visor, her eyes are red; bloodshot, and they scare me a little, so I try speaking up.

"Um, Lana, I think I need to go to the, uh. Hospital, place,"

"Why?"

I stare at her, dumbfounded for a second, before a pulse of pain reminds me of the severance’s urgency.

"W-well, to get it, like, reattached, y'know?"

She looks at the little meat squiggum lying sadly on the bench, letting go of my hand.

"Not really anything left to reattach."

Her voice is muffled by the respirator, but her expression is one of almost boredom. I feel bad for offending her, even though I’m not sure how I did it.

I try flexing a bit. OUCH! Bad idea. I pinch hard just below the cut, to try to keep more things from coming out of me. "W-well, we have to at least try…"

She eyes her own workstation impatiently, dying orange skyfire burning in the reflections of her eyes. A little spurt of blood squirts out of my pinky stump.

"Look, if you keep wasting time worrying about stupid little things like that, you’re not gonna last long here.”

What the fuck is she talking about?! I’m very badly hurt, and I need to go get it checked out right away. Tears well up in my eyes as I keep staring at where my finger now ends, just above the second knuckle.

I'll never get to pinky promise silly things to my little sister again; I’d only have a reminder of this loss, something permanently removed I could never get back.

I inhale a sniffle. "P-please, we gotta go. I don't wanna go around rounding up the number of fingers I have for the rest of my life."

She rolls her eyes, reshielding them with her goggles. "Would a round number make you feel better?"

"What?"

My dremel's motor whines to life as she turns back to face me.

"For symmetry, y'know?"

Her tone concerns me.

She grabs my good hand, forcing it flat against the workbench. I try to pull free, but my knees are still a bit wobbly from the pain, and I don’t want to risk any sudden moves around the little spinning amputation death motor, so I can't try too hard.

“L-listen, I’m sorry for involving you. J-just let me go and I-I’ll just clock myself out, and get to the hospital on my own…” My hand grasps at her, trying to push her away, but all I succeed in doing is knocking her respirator loose, and I gasp as all the gouges and scars and other missing bits of her face come into focus at last.

I see her teeth click as her jaw clenches, bone trembling with the purest expression of rage. Her knuckles are white around the dremel.

"Long term, working here is gonna take a lot more of you than I’m gonna.”

BZZZZZZSZCHLRRKKRRRRRK--

“Oh, hold on, it got stuck.”

My vision doubles and quadruples, the room swimming around me as I try to keep myself from passing out. This is obviously a dream, and hey, I haven’t had one of these in a while, let’s just try to keep it going right hahahaha-

WHRRRGGZZCCHLLTLTTTTTT!

The spinny deathblade plants another gentle kiss against my fingerbone, tingling my entire skeleton with electromechanical sparks. I stare at a bead of sweat tracing down Lana's cheek as the blade grinds through at last with a spray of calcium white.

The whine fades as the disposable plastic motor inside the tool gets gummed up with mutilated chunks of gore. My mouth hangs open making a noise and I'm afraid it's probably kind of a pathetic one. The bottoms of my goggles are filling up with tears, but that means I’m doing a good job of keeping the crying contained inside, so there's a chance Lana might still think I'm cool.

“There you go. Eight plus two halves equals nine. Almost as many as before.”

“ohgodohgodohgodohgod-” I wish I had something more interesting to say.

“What? I thought you wanted a round number.”

“Ijustwantedmyhandstobenormalagain-”

She pauses for a moment, then wanders off into the neighboring room, leaving me standing there, trembling alone in the dark.

I think about trying to find my own way back to the elevator, but I’m afraid of tripping over a lead pipe or something on the ground and having to use my damaged limbs to break my fall and mangling them further, and I don’t wanna get my phone all bloody to use the flashlight either, so I stay put.

Fireworks burst off in the distance, prematurely celebrating the dawn of a big new thing. I try not to look down at my mutilated handflesh, instead insisting my gaze on the sunset bathing over the city.

It's a really nice view, and I don't know if I'll get to be up here to enjoy it ever again.

“Okay, here, I can fix everything.”

She's returned, and I can’t get away from her because I don’t want to say no, so I let her take my bleeding broken hands and lead me to the workbench again.

Behind her gore-spattered goggles, I can see her eyes are swimming with tears now too, like she doesn't know what the fuck she's doing either, but I don't even hate her for it, I don't think.

"Here, just hold onto me. I'll fix you."

She presses up close, close enough that I can feel a bit of her heat even through her jacket. She takes my unrecognizably mutilated hand in her own and strokes it softly.

The lead in my stomach sinks deeper when I see that she's holding a staple gun in her other.

I tighten my grip, spilling blood onto her palm.

THUNK.

----------------------------------------

She sweeps the remains of my amputated digits off the ledge with her boot, sending little chunks of meat tumbling into the glimmering city grid. Thankfully, the night is cold enough now that I can't feel much of my hands at all.

Staple gun didn't work out too good.

She fiddles with something on the side of her hard hat, and a light comes on. It's kind of dim, but it's better than nothing.

We walk past piles of unsawed boards, boxes of nails and wrenches and other tool things. Neither of us say anything to each other. Even more fireworks are whistling and exploding above the city in the distance but I'm not getting paid to care.

She stands beside me in the dusk-filled elevator. We descend slow, neither of us averting our gaze from the doors sealed tight in front of us.

“Um, Lana?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I'm coming in to work tomorrow.”

“You’re not,” she states plainly. “Any injury sustained on the clock is grounds for termination, remember?”

“Oh, right…”

We’re quiet for a while. I don’t like the silence, the emptiness, so I try to fill it as always. “Um, I’m sorry for getting you involved…”

“It’s fine,” she lets out a quivering little sigh and turns to face me at last. “I don’t think they were gonna keep me on much longer, either way. I waste a lot of staples…”

I pick at a little crooked piece of metal worming its way through the layers of fat and muscle that once made up our entwined fingers, wondering how much more might need to be amputated by the time we get to a hospital, then a laugh catches in my throat, when I remember we no longer have health insurance.

ao3

#📝#guro #ero guro #original fiction #toxic yuri #worker ants

52 notes · View notes

worldsentwined · 27 days

Note

Oooo 14, 28, 33

14. what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do? OH BOY I am saving this question to give to my therapist the next time I see her, because I just like. Fully bluescreened for a minute after reading it haha. (The concepts of "always wanted to" and "been scared of but still wanted to do" are uhhh challenging for me). But! After much consideration, I think we can put "relearn to ride a bike" in this category. I was taught as a kid, but I have a vivid memory of saying "I'm doing it!" and then immediately falling over and that's...the last I remember of the bike learning process. It wasn't exactly useful as a means of transportation where I grew up, and there were other more fun ways to get exercise, so I just...didn't. Now that I live in a place where there are more opportunities, it would be nice to know how, but the fear of falling hasn't diminished and in fact has probably gotten worse as I've aged.

28. do you collect anything? Not precisely on purpose, but I have acquired a steady stream of enamel pins and buttons (particularly union buttons) over the past few years. Most of the union buttons would expose a little more info about me than I necessarily want to put on Tumblr, but here is a selection that lives on one of my jackets:

33. any hobbies? The short answer here is "SO MANY". Long answer, I'm a bit of a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to certain categories of hobby, which are:

fiber crafts - Crochet and hand sewing (particularly mending) are my favorites, but over the years I have tried my hand at quilting, knitting, spinning, embroidery, needle felting, and probably a few others I've forgotten

visual/fine arts - drawing and painting (watercolor) are my favorites, but I have played around with most kinds of paint and various forms of sculpture. I actually majored in art but I kinda knew the whole time that I didn't see it as a professional plan, just something I wanted to learn more about. I've also been doing a lot of digital painting over the past few years, which is entirely self-taught.

writing - fanfic! Original fic! Poetry! Filk! Several attempts at novels have also been made, I spent a number of years working on longform projects before I got into writing fanfic and realized short form writing (for a given value of "short") is a little more manageable.

TTRPGs - I'm in two different tabletop roleplaying groups (one online for DnD, one in-person for the Marvel Super Heroes RPG)

Music - I joined a local labor choir last year and it has become one of my favorite things. "Choir" is a bit of a misnomer, but there's not a more concise word for "ragtag group of folks who hang out and sing union and anti-fascist songs together for two hours a week, who WILL show up at your protest, rally, or picket line if you tell us about it" haha. We actually are working on some more formal choral arrangements for upcoming May Day festivities, but at any given practice we're just as likely to go on a "songs about public transit" or "how many different languages can we sing in tonight" deep dive.

#thanks for asking!#this meme has some DEEP questions on it haha wow #replies

11 notes · View notes

blackdevilwhitedemon · 8 months

Text

Mari Lives AU

OwO? What's this? The 25th Mari Lives AU you've seen?

You bet your ass it is. And I got brain rot to air out. Okay, so these are notes straight out of my Google Docs'. I wanna write a couple chapters first before I start posting. I think I wrote my notes too neatly instead of line of consciousness like I usually do that I wanna post them on here and Twitter (the only thing I'm deadnaming lol).

Okay so my idea is that Mari lives, they drag her to bed and she wakes up and gets them to call an ambulance but makes them swear on her version of events.

She tripped down the stairs while arguing bc she wasn’t paying attention and Basil walked in as she fell down the stairs. She’s so scared that they’re (CPS) gonna take away Sunny if anyone finds out he pushed her. Or that their parents will disown him.

When the ambulance comes Basil said the same things Mari does and Sunny goes non-verbal from stress and shock. He’s shielding Sunny.

At the hospital she’s told her ribs and spine took some hits and that she’s going to be wheelchair bound for a while. It’ll take months of phy therapy to regain the ability to walk. She’s not happy about this but at least her family is still together. And since no one but the 3 knew Sunny pushed her the others won’t hate him for this. They all think she fell on her own.

She just wants everything to stay the same.

Sunny doesn’t take the news well. He feels and thinks that he’s ruined his sister’s life. He’s convinced she’ll never walk again and that he's taken that away from her. He ends up having a mental breakdown soon after Mari is discharged from the hospital and gouges his right eye out with a spoon.

Mari is absolutely distraught and terrified over this and won’t leave her brother alone if she can help it after this.

Has a breakdown while Sunny is sleeping on her lap to Hero. She ends up yelling at him before calming down. Hero brings her away to get her to relax.

I imagine she has to use a cane after her physical therapy is mostly over and she relearns how to walk. She still has the wheelchair in case she is too tired or her back starts hurting or she pushes herself too much. I think she’d have those low back accessibility wheelchairs. And a foldable metal cane that pairs w/ her wheelchair and a glossy finish wooden one for her normal walking cane.

Above are the notes I initially made at like 2am and below are notes I made days later:

Okay so obv Mari needs her room moved to the first floor since she can’t get up the stairs anymore for a long time so the piano room is now her room (later her old room gets turned into a painting room for Sunny!). Sunny starts sleepwalking after his incident and at first it’s just him walking around in his room or walking to the door of the upstairs bathroom and waking up. One night when Mari was getting a glass of water, she noticed in the dim light that there’s a small figure standing at the top of the stairs. When he doesn’t react to her questions, she realizes he must be sleepwalking again. She starts getting worried and yells for him to wake up which he does alongside their parents who put him back to bed. This unlocks a new anxiety in Mari and one day gets a nightmare that Sunny sleepwalks to the top of the stairs and she’s at the base unable to get up to him and he crumples to the bottom. In the nightmare there’s a horrible sound when this happens and blood pools around him (skull cracked) and she just throws herself out of her wheelchair and screams as she holds him, unable to help. This deeply bothers her for days and she eventually voices this to Hero who suggests she should just ask that Sunny move to room with her like he does w/ Kel. Also the door would have a lock, she can keep an eye on him, and lastly could use the excuse to her parents that it’ll make it easier to have Sunny help her with tasks (she doesn't like how they’ve been making him do so much for her. She hates the infantilizing her parents are putting on her and thinks Sunny shouldn’t be forced to do so many chores rn. He isn’t in the right headspace for that [haha pun]).

Some small details I must put in are like Sunny having to cope/make up with his new lack of depth perception. At first there were some things he broke or damaged bc he’s having trouble judging the distance between the object he’s putting down and the surface he’s putting it on. So bc of this he kinda gets banned from the kitchen after destroying plates and cups on accident when having to make Mari her meals.

Also like Mari still trying to do things on her own and constantly trying to reach out to Sunny to like hold his hand or even give him a kiss to the forehead or cheek bc she’s scared for his well being and kinda neglects her own mental health in the process. Which leads that to fall on Hero which does eventually take a toll on him worrying about everyone so much but he pushes his feelings to the back so they can lean on him. He reasons at these tough times he has to be the ‘stable’ one. Like, isn’t that kinda his character? I think most write him like this.

(The siblings don’t get therapy for their mental health bc their father doesn’t believe in that stuff and would get deeply embarrassed and think it would be shameful if ppl hear they were going to it bc then his kids are ‘crazy’ or ‘smth’s wrong w/ them’. The mother doesn't agree w/ this but dad got the final say on this.) I may or may not be projecting cough cough. Man since I’m in the crowd that headcanons the siblings as Asian-Americans w/ shitty parents (dad is the Asian immigrant parent while mother is white or white-mixed? ) imma project so much baby!

Which leads into the fact I have a cooking scene planned! Mari, Sunny, and Hero try their hand in cooking rendang since Mari has this southeast-asian cookbook she got as a gift (yes im ref-ing the one I have irl. Also shut up, im projecting and it’s like my fav food DON'T TOUCH ME!) and wants to try smth. She picks at random. She gives Sunny very easy tasks to help them. And she notices how slow and controlled Sunny is when put things to the counter and it makes her heart clench that he’s so focused on it and scared to mess things up. She’s more eye level with the counter so she’s doing all the measuring. Just needs to tilt her head to read the numbers ez. Anytime she backs up she makes sure to look behind her so she doesn’t run over the boys. Maybe make a funny and that the end result dish is meh bc they used a bad cheap brand of coconut milk. (idk I never cooked my mother did all that)

Also in this AU, Basil is always hanging at their place bc Sunny only talks verbally by whispering in Basil’s or Mari’s ear. He’s only signs nowadays which makes Mari sad bc he made so much progress over the years with talking verbally to his friends and now it’s back to square one like when they first moved to Faraway Town (w/ the expectation of Basil since he knows).

Some small things of note are like Basil getting real close w/ Sunny now and Kel kinda feeling left out (they are 12).

Earlier on Sunny has a point where he tries to avoid touching Mari as much as possible which she def notices and shakes Basil down for details bc she knows they’ve been stuck together like pb&j recently. Eventually he conceits that Sunny is scared of hurting her anymore/again and this breaks her heart. She straightens things out by sitting her brother down and talking to him. I want this to be a heart to heart scene. If I'm not sobbing when writing then what’s the point?

For later chapters I want Sunny to start coping by painting. But hehe, he’s not painting cute things. Spooky things, creepy, scary, gorey, whatever you get the point. It’s like how he gets his emotions and worries and frustrations out. His way of venting (more healthily!). Ofc there are some more ‘normal’ things he takes to painting. Like landscapes and ppl on hills, or ballerinas, just flowy fabric stuff. It’s calming for him. And what he can show to others/family. (Basil gets to see all his art and is kinda off put by it at first but kinda shakes it off for Sunny’s sake. When Mari finds out, Sunny gets upset bc he thinks she’ll react badly bc he knows their parents would but she just kinda brushes it off bc if it makes her brother happy or is therapeutic then she has no qualms. As long as it’s not physically harming him.)

Below are snippets from a discord convo I had w/ a friend after I showed her my notes and she helped me bounce some ideas! (Friend-Red) (Me-Orange)

I think Mari’s lack of going out and about should start to slowly ruin Mari and Aubrey’s friendship. Aubrey wants to play with the two but because Sunny is basically mute and Mari is wheelchair bound, they can’t really. And this leads to Aubrey becoming the bad bitch she is when she gets older?

Omg true. Mari can’t go out to play anymore/it’s hard to bc it’s difficult to push her wheelchair in non-concrete areas especially since her arms aren’t used to it yet.

Sunny shuts down for awhile and when he starts to feel better he doesn’t speak to her anymore and maybe bc he still whispers to basil and mari she takes it personally?

Hero and Basil are often at the siblings house, Kel really the only ones that’s sticking around her in her pov

I think maybe Kim should befriend her during these times too and it’ll be a trio of her, Kim, and Kel until the others start joining them again

You planning to keep the Aubrey/Sunny crush thing around or you gonna shift it to her crushing on Kel? 👀 I know Aubrey and kel are fairly popular ship. Enemies to lovers type beat

I didn’t think about that. I was gonna be tagging this fic with Mari/Hero bc I am basic and proud and minor sunflower (basil/Sunny) but it won’t be much besides like implying that basil has a crush on him and Sunny is like kinda codependent? They are 12 so nothing serious XD as for Aubrey,,, maybe

Smth like she feels more betrayed because she had a crush on him and he’s not relying on her? And she knew that he liked her back

#my writing #text post #textpost #omori #omori au #mari lives au #heromari #omori sunflower #like lightly implied #marihero #mari lives #tw injury

42 notes · View notes

andmaybegayer · 28 days

Text

Last Monday of the Week 2024-04-01

Boopin' Monday

Listening: Sometimes you go a while without listening to a performer well understood to be solidly good and you forget that they're solidly good and then you listen to them and you're like yeah this is good. Daft Punk's Human After All album.

youtube

A positively wet album.

Reading: Finished Glory In The Thunder, by 0xabad1dea. A very strange book to read, like, it's a peculiar mix of extremely by the book fantasy and the peculiar "teen queer perfusion" style that 0xabad1dea was aiming for. A lot of plotlines but very well plotted, they weave in and out very neatly and intersect at the right times. It's a satisfying book to read but also I get the feeling that 0xabad1dea is having more fun writing it than I could ever have reading it.

If nothing else I should understand more of her posts now, since many of them are notebook sketches of these characters. I'll get to the sequel another time but I'm busy digging through my book list for what to read next.

Watching: Not much! A lot of short web stuff most notably the new Antimemetics Division short film, which has part 2 coming out in a couple days! Exciting stuff.

youtube

Playing: Forza Horizon 5, the Audi Quattro Rally S1 is up as a reward this month and I was like hey I want one of those, although I ended up scoring one through the rally DLC quests. I did wrap up the rally DLC storylines though so I'm caught back up with all the big quests, still haven't finished a ton of the ones that came out since I kind of stopped playing it as much as I used to because I was wasting a lot of my time in that game. It's too easy to get sucked into just cruising between races idly for hours.

Making: Started poking at LÖVR in detail, started writing a boids simulation but I fell down the rabbit hole of locomotion methods in VR, dealing with the dual coordinate spaces of the headset position in space and the virtual space positioning transforms is a little daunting, I expect I'll have to write some helpers to simplify it. Slowly relearning how Lua works.

Also sat and sanded the NAS case, I was planning on painting it this weekend but I was a little sick so that is on hold until probably Friday when the workshop opens again. Also need to go finish signing up for a library card so I can use the library system's shared workshop for smaller things, it looks cool.

Tools and Equipment: I have been responsible for rescuing a dying storage server at work, and I would like to pitch mdadm. If you're still using hardware RAID, stop that. It is a bad idea. You are setting yourself up for problems. CPU's are fast enough now that software RAID is perfectly performant and it makes sure that you don't end up in the situation where something silently goes wrong with your RAID card and you don't realize that your data has turned into giblets.

mdadm is actually really nice when you aren't dealing with inscrutable bugs that I see because I'm in the bugfixing division. Very simple to manage, good documentation, comprehensible metaphors, handles itself when possible, and has several sets of instructions that are basically guaranteed not to break anything that was no already broken, which is handy if you are dealing with an already fragile system.

#last monday of the week #Youtube

11 notes · View notes

closetsof-backlogged-dreams · 4 months

Note

what are ur feelings on the execution of the magic reveal??

ok so i have manymanyMANY feelings on in which ill try to wrap up as cleanly as possible so lets just get into it

the way they like speedran the magic reveal??

to paint you a picture: i was super impatient when i first started the series lmao, and so i had watched maybe 4-5 episodes of the first season when i googled "when does arthur find out about merlin's magic"💀💀 i ended up getting the wrong answer because im stupid as shit so i was just surprised as everyone else when it ACTUALLY happened, but thats besides the point.

the point? this was a SUPER important plot point. everyone was waiting on the edge of their seat, every single episode, for merlin to finally pop arthur's bubble and reveal his magic. but five seasons passed, and we didn't get it until the last episode?? are you kidding me?? and because we only got it on the last episode, where arthur was dying, arthur was robbed of any true explanations or declarations or apologies like he—we—deserved. instead, arthur's reaction to it was brief and just not enough. he was disbelieving, then shocked, then angry, then sad, then accepting, all within what, like a day and a half? forty minutes of screen time? im sorry, after spending around 46 hours watching this series and waiting for the magic reveal, that just doesn't cut it.

2. we have to admit, the magic reveal in the last episode felt so NATURAL

sometimes i really struggle to hate the magic reveal, because no one can deny how perfectly everything fell into place. he got trapped in the cave, his father spoke to him, he escaped the cave and transformed himself into that old guy, he single-handedly wiped out the Saxons, arthur was struck, merlin found him and carried him away from the battlefield, merlin turns back into merlin, and then the fucking "I defeated the Saxons. The dragon, and yet— and yet I knew it was Mordred that I must stop." / "The person who defeated them was the sorcerer." / "It was me." / "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. This is stupid. Wh—why would you say that?" / "I'm—I'm a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you." (Your welcome for that, day after Christmas<3)

like, you CANNOT TELL ME that doesn't flow perfectly!! that everything that happened in that episode didn't flow perfectly!! the magic reveal was always going to be impossibly difficult to get right, but they got it right in the finale!! that is one thing i will always give the writers—I may have not liked the circumstances of the magic reveal, but the magic reveal itself was beautifully executed.

3. too little, too late

i read an article recently that really pointed this out, and while i disagree with most of what they said in the article, i agree with one thing: the ending was so, so unsatisfying. the magic reveal was so, so unsatisfying. what was the point of him even revealing his magic? the magic reveal was great, sure, but nothing actually came out of it. oh, for the next 24-48 hours of life, arthur can accept him!! but that's it.

there's the implication that gwen will legalize magic after the series, but merlin and gwen don't even get a final scene together! all in all, the magic reveal just wasn't enough. we ended so much more time for arthur to sort out his feelings, for there to be good days and bad days, to watch them relearn trust and love again. we deserved that kind of ending. we deserved the magic reveal to be in, imo, The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, or s5e3. give them an entire season to get through everything. you can still kill arthur!! but let them have that animosity. if anything, have them start out those last two battles on bad terms. let the travel to the lake be them relearning trust and love. let that be the emotional baggage they have to unpack in the finale.

just overall, do anything except what you actually did lmao.

alright!! i think those are the main three points? i think that wrapped everything up pretty nicely, so ty sm for the ask!! these are always the highlight of my month lol.

#merthur #merlin #bbc merlin #bbcm #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin meta #merlin thoughts #merlin emrys

14 notes · View notes

nyxknocks · 2 months

Text

This movie was hyped up so much to be so miserable and I was left irritated and... not amused, per se, but feeling like this film was a joke.

I get the message it was going for, mostly. The youth of Japan in the 60s were dealing with harsh realities--men were constantly preying on young women and abusing them. There is sex and violence everywhere and that's shown no better than the fact they get into this pseudo-Bonnie and Clyde bullshit but like, the shitty version of it. The youth are rebelling and the older generation were either disinterested in curbing it (the father who has a "well what can ya do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" mentality) or taking advantage of it (literally every other man in this film).

The two leads (who's names I can't be bothered to relearn) are the rebellious youth--but the girl is still a victim. She is a victim all throughout. What you don't get, however, is how she gets to this situation. The movie starts with her getting in the car with a strange man and it seems like she does it all the time. I'm sad she died because again, victim, but they made her death into a joke. Or at least it felt like a joke. Something something you could say that the focus on her high heels is equal to her effort to appear as an older sexual object and that leads to her literal death but I don't know.

The main dude just sucks. I don't know how I was expected to be so sad when he died when he was a garbage human throughout? Except for the situation where he was sleeping with an older woman, and I suppose you could argue he has been groomed and abused since he was young, but there is virtually no proof of this. You could argue he is just perpetuating a cycle of abuse against younger people, but you could also lean towards the direction that he's just in a sexual relationship with this older woman because she has means and he has nothing. It's a relationship of mutualism.

I hated the camera work. I get that it was wanting to put you inside the story and gives it a more voyeuristic feeling to go along with the inherent voyeurism of the entire film, but it was so shaky that it just made me nauseous and give me a headache. The acting was awful all throughout. The apple scene was wild and unnecessary. They made excellent work using the very vibrant red for the main girl as red is often linked to sex and sexuality, so having her be SO vibrant with it (in her clothes, her hair, the red phone, etc) immediately paints her as no more than a sex object--which just gets reiterated throughout the film. The times when you're supposed to realize she's a young girl being taken advantage of is when she's either in her white underclothes (typically associated with modesty and purity) or when she's literally on the literal, actual ground in real dirt beneath him, because all of the women are beneath the men in this film. They are either always looming or just. Above.

It was interesting how they shot the scene right after the abortion with the main dude and the voice over. Keeping the doctor and I think the sister's voices off-screen made it seem like that whole scene took place in his head--like he was having some sort of episode or realization moment. It was probably the most unnerving part of this movie for me. But again, the apple was wild. Even when she was recovering from a BACK ALLEY ABORTION he was still rubbing up all over her face. I don't blame he ever truly loved her, she was just an easy sexual outlet for him.

Like I said, I see why you say this film is bleak. It's dark, that's for sure, and it touches on extremely sensitive topics. It does a really good job depicting how common it is during that time (and now) for men to view women (especially young women) as nothing but punching bags or sex objects to toss and abuse as they please. But the fact this film is labeled as "romance" disgusts me. Main dude is an abusive piece of shit. Where is the romance...

I don't know. I'm used to watching some pretty messed up things so my expectations are probably different. I feel bad the main girl died. I could literally not care any less about the main dude. Honestly, he deserved to become roadkill. Alas.

7 notes · View notes

script-a-world · 6 months

Text

Submitted via Google Form:

I am creating a world where there have been interracial marriages since like they met and it's been thousands of years since. It's a very interconnected world now with basically no racial purity (is there a better way to say that? because that seems rooted in racist vocabulary and my world is the opposite). The only people who do not mingle are those akin to the uncontacted tribes in real life. Mainly, I'm trying to figure out how to figure out what people look like - there's only so few people out that are very mixed race, there's too many that are mixed but only specific mixes like White/Black, White/Asian, White/Hispanic. No..now, this isn't taking place on Earth but they are still human and I'm only able to come at it with how real actual people look like. No, bascially all of my world will be people who look White/Black/indigenous American/indigenous Pacific Islander/indigenous Asian/East Asian/South Asian/Hispanic/etc... Everything gets mingled, churned up in the gene pool and spit out. I'm not sure how to go from there. There are so so few actual examples that are very mixed. Also, I'm not at all an expert at looking at faces so yeah.. a lot of times I'm not even sure what I'm looking at in a racial trait. Hell, there are real life instances of let's say, looking at a Chinese and Japanese side by side, someone can tell them apart and where the differences. I still have no idea what they're looking at. Hell even someone actually Chinese couldn't tell what the differences were. Of course, I don't need to get very specific in details at all, but I have to have some sort of description that isn't well a lazy description that says nothing.

Feral: So, this ask gives me the idea that you were raised in a pretty racist culture (I can relate) and are trying really hard to leave that behind. And I want to encourage you to push into real education. Intention is not enough when it comes to shedding what we were taught, often subliminally, and consciously relearning - and that doesn’t feel good the way the color-blind approach many nascent liberals tend towards does.

It seems like you’re still caught in certain patterns of thinking, especially in the idea that eliminating racial distinction and sublimating and homogenizing is anti-racist when it’s actually kinda colonialism in a fancy new hat. And the “races” in your ask - a mixture of racial identities, ethnic identities, and very broad geopolitical groups - already have a huge genetic diversity within them and in several cases do in fact already overlap with each other.

There’s also a misunderstanding of how physical traits are genetically passed. They aren’t amalgamated like mixing blue paint and red paint and creating purple paint. Skin color, hair color, hair texture, and face and facial feature shapes and sizes don’t just meet in the middle between what the two parents have - and keep in mind that this kind of thinking is usually only applied when thinking about the children of a racially-mixed couple and not of say a white parent of Italian descent and a white parent of Scandinavian descent.

And there are traits that can seem to disappear from a family line only to pop up generations later. A more diverse gene pool will not produce a population of individuals indistinguishable from one another; there will be even more diversity of physical traits - specifically traits that we’re not accustomed to seeing together in our more racially segregated world.

Utuabzu: Something you should seriously consider is the background of your world. Is this the planet humans (or equivalent species, but let's just assume you're asking about humans) evolved on or is it a colony? Because if it's the former then it's pretty unlikely that you could homogenise the entire global population without some sort of catastrophic bottleneck event, something that reduces the global population to a small number in a single location that then recolonises the planet. Because the reality is that most people don't want to leave their communities of birth, not permanently anyway. People like to live in the place they consider home, and to live in a culture they understand, and absent a significant push or pull factor they will want to stay roughly within their home environment. This is part of why you don't generally see mass migration between countries with equivalent levels of economic development and political/social stability.

Given that, it's pretty hard to see how you could get enough migration around the world for long enough to homogenise the gene pool. There's probably always going to be general regional trends. There's also what Feral said about how genetics works. Appearance isn't just controlled by one or two genes. It's controlled by a huge array of genes that we still don't entirely understand, and many genes impact multiple seemingly unconnected things. A good example of this is that the gene for red hair also produces pale skin, because it prevents the production of eumelanin (the black pigment) while allowing the production of pheomelanin (the orangy-brown one). This is also why red haired people freckle - freckles are made with pheomelanin - and don't tan - tanning uses eumelanin.

Now, if you aren't writing about the home planet, you could have a fairly homogenous population due to something called the founder effect. Basically, because when a new population is established the genepool is limited, the traits of the founding individuals can have an outsized impact on the later genepool, with normally recessive genes spreading to enough individuals that the trait they code for becomes extremely common. So long as the population is predominantly composed of descendants of these founders, this effect is likely to remain active - so, so long as there isn't mass immigration that outnumbers the people born in the colony to at least one parent descended from the founders. This is easily enough accomplished by having the colony be really far away, and thus having an unreasonably long travel time for most people. If it takes many years to get there, few people would be willing to abandon their whole lives to migrate to a place they've never been.

A final thing to consider is that race is not and has never been a genetic or biological category. It's a social one. It can be correlated with certain physical traits, but it doesn't necessarily need to be, and in many parts of the world the salient 'racial' categories share most phenotypic traits. In others 'race' isn't particularly correlated with phenotype at all, and is instead primarily about culture or even religion. And not every society even has a concept of 'race'. You can simply not mention it, and instead have characters with a range of phenotypic features that nobody ever comments on, and it can be assumed that 'race' is not a relevant concept in that culture.

#google submitted #evolution #race #genetics

15 notes · View notes