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flemingsfreckles · 14 days

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Pretend We’re Good

Niamh Charles x Reader

Synopsis: based off this request!

Warnings: toxic behavior from both Niamh and Reader, suggestive at the end, fighting, angsty

WC: 3.3k

A/N: this is the first time I’ve written for someone other than Jessie, but I follow Niamh as a player so idk thought I’d give it a go.

Also shout out to whoever this anon was, this song is a banger and has found its way onto my driving to work playlist which I am extremely picky about, so thanks for the indirect song suggestion! 🫶

Seeing the match announcement was one thing, actually showing up and playing it was another.

Playing England was good preparation for the Olympics, they were a quality team, you knew that, but that meant you’d have to see Niamh. That meant you’d have to mark Niamh on the pitch. It meant you’d have to give her a silly handshake before the game and wish her good luck.

You and Niamh had a complicated history. You played at Liverpool together for a season before she left for Chelsea. You had always had a flirty friendship as teenagers but it never amounted to anything.

Then when she left for Chelsea, it broke your heart. Which made you realize how strong your feelings were for the girl, bawling when she said goodbye and then again at home in bed. For hours at a time you would remain motionless on your mattress, wishing she’d come back. You had been a mess for a couple weeks not knowing how to handle losing your best friend and the girl you had seemingly fallen in love with. The two of you kept in touch but it wasn’t comparable to seeing her everyday, to being her travel roommate, to being her bus buddy.

Then you got a call a season later. A call offering you a spot at Chelsea, you barely thought about it, the club's reputation, plus being back with Niamh, you easily said yes, signing your name on the line to become a blue.

Niamh was your first call, she was ecstatic about you joining the club. It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into your friendship and with the friendship came the oblivious flirting.

“You two are insufferable. Will you just admit you want to makeout.” Erin had teased the two of you. Her teasing, while not appreciating in the moment, had forced you and Niamh to actually sit down and talk about your feelings. You both admitted to wanting more than just a friendship and you went on your first official date after.

The next two years with Niamh were pure bliss. You played well together, you’d spend your holidays together, you met her family and she met yours.

Everything was good, until you became unhappy at Chelsea. You were progressively losing playing time to new signings, only seeing the pitch as a sub, it was impacting you heavily mentally and hurting your playing time internationally as well.

So when you got the offer to move to the NWSL, you took it. You took it and you didn’t tell Niamh until the day you confirmed the transfer.

You had broken the news at dinner in your apartment and an argument had quickly unfollowed.

“I can’t believe you’d just leave like that!” Niamh stood from the table grabbing her plate, not offering to clear yours like she typically would.

“I’m not happy here Niamh!” Niamh would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t know you were unhappy. She’d heard you rant and complain about your playing time, your struggles in training, and she had been supportive thought it all. She just never imagined you’d go as far as to leave her, to leave her and leave the country, the continent behind.

“What? I don’t make you happy?” She screamed across the room at you.

“You do! You’re the best thing I have here!” It was all you could yell back.

The defender grew quiet, looking at you with hurt eyes. “But I’m not enough, am I?” She asked quietly.

“Niamh.” You wanted to scream at her that this had nothing to do with her, she was the only reason you had stayed at this team so long. You had been given other offers but you thought maybe, somehow you’d end up with more playing time again and you’d go back to being happy where you were but that day never came.

“No, you should go, enjoy New York. Go where someone or something is enough for you.” She slammed the door behind her leaving you alone in your apartment.

The next day, your final day at Chelsea, you showed up, puffy eyed from crying instead of sleeping all night. It was quickly picked up on by the other girls, especially when Niamh didn’t come in with you, and she didn’t show up to training.

You gathered everyone in the conference room before film review. You stood up, explaining that while you loved the friendships and connections you’ve made here, to better yourself as a player it was time to move on. As you spoke you noticed Niamh slip in through the door, she looked just as rough if not worse than you did. Red cheeks, bloodshot eyes, her hair was a mess, she wasn’t dressed for training. You finished your speech before quickly saying goodbye to everyone all the girls lining up to hug you and wish you well, all the girls except Niamh who remained seated in the back of the room.

You left the facility shortly after, taking all your belongings with you before hurrying home. You were set to leave early the next morning, your belongings to be packed up by hired movers, anything you shared to be left with Niamh. You packed up just the essentials, enough to get you through the first week of your move before you could get settled.

You sent Niamh a text, asking if she wanted to come over for a bit, thinking you could talk it out, but you got no response. The next morning you hopped on a plane, having no idea if you were even still in a relationship with the girl.

It took a few weeks until you heard from her. A drunken phone call after they had won the league. A phone call that part of you wishes never came. You could tell from her first words that she must’ve been hammered, standing outside a loud nightclub or bar. Her voice brought back all of the feelings you had managed to push down for the past few weeks. Her proclamation of love over the phone, begging and pleading with you to forgive her for her stupid behavior. She begged to have you back in her bed, saying she missed the intimacy with you, the connection. She begged for a chance at long distance, to still be the one you wanted.

You never called her back. You weren’t even sure if she remembered calling.

And now here you were, standing less than an arms length away from her as you both stood waiting to enter the pitch. When you had stopped next to her, she had looked at you, when you made eye contact she gave you a small “hello” with a look of guilt across her face.

The game was easier, it was easy to forget she was there. She just looked like any other England player. You were able to push her from your mind, putting you more at ease than you had expected to be being this close to the woman after all that had happened.

It was after the game where you found yourself in uncomfortable waters with her. You had shaken her hand last, avoiding all eye contact. When Niamh tried to speak to you, you quickly dropped her hand and then made a b-line for the locker room.

“Please wait.” Her voice pleading with you as you heard her follow you down the tunnel.

“Niamh, no.” You don’t even turn back to look at her. You couldn’t, if you looked at her your body might convince you to hear her out.

“I don’t need you back, I just want closure, you deserve closure, I didn’t give you that.”

“Do you want closure or do you just want to feel less guilty for what you did to me?” You spit back at her, turning around you watch as her already guilty looking face twists into one of anger.

“You left the country with one days notice! Don’t blame this all on me!” She shouts back at you.

You sigh, you couldn’t believe this was happening. You and Niamh, standing less than three feet from each other, face to face for the first time since she left your apartment. You couldn’t determine your feeling, half of you wanted to grab her, kiss her hard and make up for all the time you two had missed out on. The other half of you was ready to shove her out of the way, leave here and hope you’d never have to play the Lionesses again. “And you walked out! You didn’t even try Niamh!”

“I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know where to start! It was such late notice. I didn’t know what to do, I loved you, I still love you.” She’s making eye contact so intense you can’t look away. This is exactly what you feared. Unable to hold back from the girl you start rambling.

“I still love you too Niamh, you think I don’t? You’re the only reason I stayed Niamh, because I loved you so fucking much, I couldn’t leave you, until playing for Chelsea became so unbearable, I had to leave to save myself, I was ready to quit.” You feel the tears on your face, suddenly very aware that you were crying.

You had only expressed how miserable you were to Niamh on the day you told her your contract was signed. She didn’t know you were on the verge of quitting, giving up on your love for the game.

You notice some of your teammates starting to filter into the tunnel. You and Niamh both stop talking as they pass by. Catarina slows down as she walks by, you try and duck your face to hide the tears. She looks between you and Niamh, giving you both a sympathetic smile before she moves on.

“Quit?” Niamh's face matches the look of your empathetic teammates in the tunnel.

You nod, avoiding making eye contact with Niamh, not wanting her to see right through you. She could always read you, she knew, you expressed your emotions too well through your eyes.

“I didn’t know it was that bad. Why didn’t you tell me?” Niamh grabs your hand, you start to pull it away but the feeling of her hand in yours again makes your stomach flutter so you leave it. “I don’t know what I can do. But,” you feel her squeeze your hand. “I want you back, or I want you again, I’m not sure I lost you, ever I don’t know what we were doing for those few months. Please?”

“We weren’t together during those months.” Sure you never confirmed a break up but you had decided not hearing from her meant you were no longer a couple. But you also hadn’t started seeing other people, the feelings of Niamh still too fresh.

“No, I know, it’s just we never broke up.”

“Niamh, I don’t know.”

“Please don’t make me beg. Even if it’s just a night? Just dinner or drinks, I’ll pay, or we can go to my place and I’ll let you yell at me, or tell me everything I did wrong, or we can just sit, whatever, just one night, me and you can we pretend we’re good? Pretend we’re something again? Go back to how it was?”

“Niamh.” You breathed out. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew both of your behaviors were toxic, you leaving with little notice and her storming out and drunkenly calling you begging for you back. You two shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t, but you wanted to. You loved her still.

You wanted to have a night with her, a date, an afternoon, something! In reality you wanted her for the rest of your life. You missed her hugs, you missed the way she kissed you, you missed the way you’d sing in the car together despite both having less than excellent voices. You missed falling asleep next to her. You missed her body on yours. You missed getting up early to make her coffee or tea and bringing it to her in bed, the way she’d sit up to sip it with crazy bed head. You missed everything about her.

You missed her and this was your chance to have her again. Even if it was just to pretend, for a night.

Niamh must’ve been able to tell you were pondering. She didn’t plea with you anymore, she didn’t beg again. She just waited patiently, studying your face, the face she’s been longing for.

“Okay. One night, like we used to be.” You finally give in.

“Really?” Niamh’s face lights up at your answer. A smile across her lips. “Okay, I’ll pick you up from your hotel? Can we have dinner? Or just drinks? Or I don’t know.”

“That sounds good.” Drinks and dinner would be harmless, a good way for the two of you to talk, in public, keep it civil.

When Niamh picked you up she was dressed up. You thankfully had dressed up as well. Subconsciously when you packed, you threw in a nice matching lace set, which you had put on underneath a simple shirt and nice pants. She had gotten out of the car to open the passenger side door, something she did when you were together.

“Thank you. Thank you for agreeing to this.” She said one back in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah.” You clasped your hands in your lap, when you were together you’d have your hand on her thigh or her hand in yours, today you kept them to yourself.

“I was thinking dinner?”

“Yeah that sounds good, I haven't eaten yet.”

Niamh nods before starting to drive to dinner. She pulls into an Italian restaurant, one the two of you had frequented while together.

When you sat down Niamh ordered a glass of wine, before looking at you. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah that'd be great.” you order the same wine as Niamh. When the glasses come Niamh holds hers up, tapping it to yours before you both take a sip and fall into silence.

You break the silence first.

You apologize for leaving on such short notice. You apologize for not telling her that you were considering leaving. You apologize for not expressing how you were feeling, truly upset at Chelsea. You apologize for never calling her, for never reaching out. You apologize for everything.

Niamh just sits, listening to you, really listening. She doesn’t interrupt, she just sits, making eye contact when you look at her. You find yourself looking away most of the time, feeling embarrassed as you list all the poor behavior, all the places you went wrong.

When you’re done, you sit back looking across the table at Niamh. Thankfully your food had arrived just as you finished apologizing and you were able to occupy the silence by eating. As you start to eat, Niamh begins to speak. She hasn’t started to eat and she’s hardly looked at the pasta in front of her.

“Niamh.” You interrupt, it was rude but you wanted to ensure she knew she could eat. “Please eat, we can talk after, don’t let it get cold.”

She nods, picking up her fork and swirling it into her meal. You eat for the most part in silence. Niamh asks a few questions about your new place in New York, your new team. When you tell her it’s going well, you’re playing more, you are often in the starting IX she replies with “I know.” When you told her you scored in your first game with them, she replies the same “I know.”

You look at her. “You keep up with me?”

“Of course I do.” She says. “I watch your games, I keep up with you, you have me rooting for you all the way across the pond. I, uh, I have your jersey.”

“Really?” You definitely didn’t expect her to own a jersey of yours. You had a couple of her Chelsea jerseys and you knew she had a couple of your old Chelsea ones as well, you just didn’t expect her to buy a new one, for your new team after what happened.

“Yeah.” She sighs.

She then begins an apology list of her own. She apologizes first for the drunken call. She had remembered doing it. She apologized for storming out on you, she apologized for ignoring you when you said your goodbyes to the team. She apologized for not reaching out, something you were both guilty of.

“I do still love you.” She ends her apology with those words.

“I still love you Niamh.” You can’t help it, you loved this woman, everything about her.

You don’t get to follow up on what that meant for either of you as the waiter comes with the bill, Niamh grabbing it before you can, when you let out a pouting huff, she just gives you a glance.

“Please it’s the least I can do, plus I asked you to this.”

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “But I get the next one.”

“The next one?” Niamh’s face breaks into a small smile, just creeping on her lips. “As in, another time?”

“If that’s something you want to do?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Does that mean, we’re…” she points a finger between the two of you.

You knew it was maybe too soon to let her back in, too soon for both of you but you really didn’t care. Sitting here being able to see her, hear her, admire her, made you miss every inch of her. You wanted her back, you needed her back. Long distance would be something to figure out, but not right now, right now you had her in front of you, within reach.

You’re not sure what to call yourselves yet, so you nod. “If that’s something you want too.”

“Yeah.” The waiter comes back to the table to give Niamh her card back. You both thank him before leaving the restaurant and heading to her car. Niamh goes to open your car door, just just barely cracks it when you push it closed.

“Hey!” She turns back to scold you, coming face to face with each other.

“Hi.” You breath out practically whispering, this was the closest you two had been in a non-match situation in months. Your faces inches from each other. You look at her eyes, temporarily getting lost in their beautiful blue color. Your trance is broke by her blinking a few times. Your eyes fall to her lips and then back to her eyes. Niamh gets the hint and brings her hands up around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer.

“Is this okay?” She asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You find yourself leaning in, pressing your lips to hers, they feel better than you remember, you can feel your love for her flooding through your body, your hairs standing on edge, its electric and soft and it feels safe. You were kissing Niamh. Your Niamh. The love of your life, the girl you had waited for, the girl who was with you through your teenage years and into young adulthood. This was your girl, she was yours, you promised to never let her go again.

You kiss for a second, your front gently pressed to hers as her back is leaned up against the car. It’s a passionate kiss, both of you pouring months of built up feelings into it. When you break away you can’t hide the smile across your face and by the looks of it neither can Niamh.

“I love you.” You say.

“I love you.” She then turns opening the door again, you let her this time and you get into the car. When she climbs in the drivers seat she asks where to.

“Yours?” You suggest. “I can think of a few more ways we can make up for lost time.” You give her a wink and Niamh gets the hint, quickly starting the car in the direction of her apartment. It only takes a few turns before her hand finds its way to your upper thigh, giving it a hard squeeze.

Sure it wasn’t the healthiest way of working out your problems together, but it worked, you both got your frustrations out, you were able to express your emotions, show how much you missed each other, how much you loved each other, and by the time morning came the two of you had decided you were back together.

Girlfriends, just long distance ones.

#niamh charles #Niamh Charles x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #niamh charles imagine #lionesses x reader

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the-cypress-grove · 9 months

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Worldbuilding Checklist (STILL UPDATING)

This is basically a bunch of worldbuilding checklists crammed together. Use what works for you, leave the rest. This is fantasy orientated and I will continue to update it regularly so reblog or comment something you think should be added.

History:

How far back does recorded history go?

How does history interact with myth and folklore?

How did the current system of governance come into power?

What are some notable figures of history?

Is your world's history broken down into eras?

What events have been twisted and changed as they've been passed down through the generations?

Geography:

What is the climate of this area?

What are the common plants of this area? Are there any fictional plants?

What are the common animals of this area? Are there any fictional animals?

Are there continents? Islands?

How much of this area is inhabited?

What area is known?

Country borders?

What are the major geographical landmarks i.e. rivers, mountains?

Where are the major trade routs?

What are the seasons like in this area?

Magic System:

How is magic practiced? Using wands, staffs, runes, etc?

How is magic learned?

Can magic be taken?

What can't magic do? What are its limitations?

What is the first thing a person learns when learning magic?

How are magic users perceived by others?

What are the laws regarding magic?

How does magic link to religion?

How has magic influenced history?

Politics and Law:

What style of leadership rules the area i.e. theocrasy (ruled by religion), monarchy (ruled by a royal family)?

How are laws created?

What is the process from the conception of a law to the point where it passed?

How is the law enforced?

What is the judicial system of this place?

Is there a death penalty?

Society and Culture:

How many major cultures are there?

What is their global population?

Where are they located geographically within your world?

Is there a social hierarchy / a division between the classes?

What are the major pieces of art in this world?

What does its music sound like? What instruments are used?

Are there well know folk songs?

What food is eaten by each group of society?

What are the treat foods of this area?

What are the foods saved for special occasions?

What holidays / special occasions are there?

Religion:

What are the major religions in this area? Do they get on with each other?

How are these religions viewed by their worshippers? By those who worship other religions? By those who worship no one at all?

How much does religion influence politics and the laws passed?

What do these religions believe in?

Are there divisions within these religions between groups who believe slightly different things?

How old are these religion? Which came first?

Which religion has the biggest influence on the world?

What are their opinions towards the government?

What are their opinions regarding the poor and the rich? Do they differ?

What are their opinions towards magic and technology?

Commerce and Industry:

What is the major industry?

Main imports / exports?

How wealthy is this country / area?

What valuable resources does this country / area have?

What are the common crops / livestock in this area?

Is this area coastal? Is there a fishing / trade industry?

Is this area forested? Logging and timber?

Technology:

What are the transport option available? For the poor? For the rich?

#writing #writing prompts #writeblr community #creative writing #writing prompt #prompt #fantasy prompts #prompts #writeblr #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy #writing fantasy #worldbuilding #world building #worldbuilding stuff #worldbuilding questions

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olenvasynyt · 3 months

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Similarities between Elain and Lucien

Alright, this has been something I’ve wanted to talk about for a while now because it is a huge reason why I ship Elucien. I think many people don’t realize how similar they are to each other, which might be driving many people away from the idea of Elucien being a thing in the future. And I know a lot of people dismiss or deny these similarities too. So I want to point them out and talk about them! And some of these may be a little bit of a stretch but a lot of them I feel are pretty significant and intensional on SJM’s part.

Love for parties and socializing

They are both social people. They are seen to enjoy parties, enjoy being in crowds.

Tamlin made Lucien emissary because of how social he is. He has many friends and allies across Prythian, he enjoys the parties and social aspects of court.

Page 161 of ACOTAR: “I claimed Lucien as my own—-named him emissary, since he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people, while I…can find it difficult.”

Page 32 of ACOMAF: [Tamlin] assured me that he hated the gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself.

Elain also enjoys parties and socializing, we see it the most often in ACOTAR:

Page 256 of ACOTAR: “The socialite season, which ended a few weeks ago, apparently, full of parties and balls and luncheons and gossip, gossip, gossip. Elain had told me all about it at dinner the night before, hardly noticing that it was an effort for me to get down my food.”

She plans the ball Papa Archeron throws in Feyre’s honor and at that ball, we see how social she is and how much she enjoys it.

Page 268 of ACOTAR: But I tried to smile, if only for Elain, who flitted about the room, personally greeting each guest and dancing with all their important sons.

After the sisters are changed into Fae we lose sight of that side of Elain but in ACOFAS, Nesta points it out to Feyre when they are having a fight about Elain, that their sister used to love crowds and parties, she didn’t always hate being in crowds like Feyre claims.

Traveling

Traveling is one of their interests. As I said before, Lucien has many friends across Prythian, he has traveled a lot during his youth and as the emissary of Spring.

Page 160 of ACOTAR: “…so he spent his youth doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t: wandering the courts, making friends with sons of other High Lords…”

And Elain has talked about her interest in traveling.

Page 256 of ACOTAR: “’These bulbs came all the way from the tulip fields of the Continent. Father praised that next spring he’ll take me to see them.’”

Dismissed by the people around them, especially growing up

They are dismissed by the people around them. When they were growing up, they were not wanted or needed by their families. They weren’t really taken seriously.

Lucien explains that he wasn’t wanted or needed during his youth:

Page 106 of ACOWAR: “As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly wanted or needed. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my brother allowed by brothers…I could train for as long as I liked. I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.”

and Feyre explains in Sliver Flames that their mother treated Elain “as barely more than a doll to dress up”. Their mother saw little to no potential in Elain:

Page 130 of ACOSF: “I mean, it was always that way with us, and our mother. She only had an interest in Nesta. She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up.”

I don’t think their childhood was the same, Beron and Lucien’s brothers were a lot more harsh to him, and Nesta said that Elain never received the same abuse that Nesta did from their grandmother. But I find it interesting how Lucien says perhaps it was a good thing he wasn’t wanted or needed. Lucien wasn’t held to a high standard as his brothers were, he wasn’t used for politics as much as they were. He was and still is underestimated. And I think all of this applies to Elain too, not only with mother Archeron and their grandmother but also in general, with her sisters and the IC.

Good relationship with one of their parents

They are the favorite child of one of their parents. LoA loved Lucien the most because he was her son from Helion:

Page 456 of ACOWAR: “The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having…with the male she undoubtedly loved.”

And Elain was loved the most by Papa Archeron I think, she was his princess, she was the only one who treated him kindly:

Page 17 of ACOTAR: “He was smiling mildly at his beloved Elain, the only one of us who bothered to really speak to him at all.”

Clinging on to their old lovers

And this similarity is probably the most important imo: they are stuck in the past clinging to their old lovers that they lost.

Lucien is often thinking of Jesminda to the point where he is stuck on her; when he is in front of his mate alone for the first time, he compares her to Jesminda, who has been dead for centuries. He has had plenty of lovers before but Jesminda is a huge part of his heart.

Page 249 of ACOWAR: “But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda.”

I think his guilt influences his thoughts but he cannot get over her and the life that he was going to have with her. He expected to marry her, he thought they were mates, and when he is in front of his true mate he has feelings of passion and attraction but he is disheartened because Elain is not Jesminda. He can’t stand to be in the room with her.

Page 250 of ACOWAR: “But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful females he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once.”

And Elain is stuck on Grayson. She was expecting to marry him, she thought he loved her and all of that falls apart because she got her fae mate.

Page 498 of ACOWAR: ‘I don’t care what his name is, you are his mate.’ ‘It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—‘ ‘you belong to him.’ ‘I belong to no one, but my heart belongs to you.’ Grayson‘s face hardened. ‘I don’t want it.’ He would’ve been better off hitting her, that’s how deep the hurt in her eyes went.

She wishes to be human still and having a mate is the most fae thing you can have and this is disheartening to her and she avoids Lucien because of this.

Page 167 of ACOFAS: “‘He doesn’t know me.’ ‘You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.’ “‘I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.’ She wanted a human man.”

This is super super significant to me and it is going to be a conflict when we get Elain’s book.

Relationship with violence

I think they both avoid violence, maybe even hate it, but they understand that it is necessary. They tend to be more diplomatic, especially with their loved ones and allies, but they will tear their enemies to shreds.

Page 282 of ACOTAR: “Lucien told [Amarantha] to go back to the shithole she’d crawled out of.”

Page 653 of ACOWAR: “Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, ‘don’t you touch my sister.’”

Aspects of their personalities

Their personalities are pretty different but they have some key similarities that I think stick out:

Can be reserved and also bold

They can be both reserved and bold. We see Lucien being courteous in ACOWAR when first arriving in the NC but he obviously did not trust the IC. Holds back his frustration and sadness with Elain. He avoids talking in conversations but you know he’s definitely thinking. And Elain is very much like that too, and her boldness is starting to grow more which we can see in ACOSF.

Encourages people to have an attitude with them

With Lucien’s boldness and Elain’s newfound boldness, they encourage people to have an attitude with them to kindle a better relationship.

Page 92 of ACOTAR: “Do you ever stop being such a prick?” I (Feyre) snapped back. Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that. But Lucien grinned at me. “Much better.”

Page 597 of ACOSF: “‘Oh, fuck you,” Nesta snapped, and then choked. Elain blinked. Nesta blinked back, horror lurching through her. And then Elain burst out laughing…’You never said such a thing to me! I think that’s a good sign, isn’t it?’”

These two parts are so similar to me!

Good, loyal people

Lucien is very much a rake and can be a bit of a snarky asshole, but he can be a gentleman. He is loyal, generous, and overall a goodhearted person. We see this when he helps Feyre UTM, at the Cauldron with Elain. When he and Feyre first arrive in the NC in ACOWAR, he is wary and curt at first but he is polite, courteous and respectful after.

And so many people talk about Elain’s goodness. Feyre admires that she still has these traits after everything which is this quote, Nesta talks about it in ACOSF, so do the IC.

Page 258 of ACOTAR: “I marveled at it, actually—that those years of poverty hadn’t stripped away that light from Elain. Perhaps buried a bit, but she was generous, loving, and kind—a woman I found myself proud to know, to call sister.”

Their innate goodness despite everything they've both been through is something they have in common.

I think to end this, I have to talk about what these similarities mean, and my biases are coming in as a person who loves Elucien, but I think these similarities are set up for a reason. They are similar in a lot of ways and the differences they have will cause conflict and spark and chemistry that SJM loves to write in her romances. There has been a lot set up for them. Lucien travels often while Elain does not, Lucien has met Papa Archeron and admires him. I didn’t mention this before but both of them have so much symbolism with light which is super significant. And as I mentioned, conflict. Conflict is important in SJMs romances, she said in this interview in 2020 that a love interest needs to have conflict and a spark. The issues they both have with clinging on to their old lovers and avoiding each other are going to be brought up, why wouldn’t it? Lucien is a male that is rakish and loves banter and SJM loves that in a love interest, so I think there is a huge potential of him bringing out Elain’s boldness once they start being comfortable in each other’s presence. And we have already seen it before but Elain can bring out the gentleman who shows his love.

You don’t have to like Elucien, you don’t have to see any chemistry, but their story isn’t over yet, and whether we get them as a couple or not, these similarities are going to be important, the conflict they have will be explored. And I’m very excited.

This is a summary of my TikTok video I made btw! If you wish to check that out, my username on there is also olenvasynyt. And if you found this post because of my TikTok, then hi lmao

#elucien #lucien vanserra #a court of thorns and roses #elain archeron #acotar #tiktok video summary

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creativewritersposts · 10 days

Text

a damn poet - Connor Bedard

requested; @chericherilvr 💓

summary; Connor Bedard x reader

Connor is so busy trying to have his best season that he forgets about things that really matter. He needs to learn how to be a poet to save your relationship.

warning(s); angst! fluff, argument, maybe grammar errors

author's note; it took me hours to finish this one. It was an honor for me to write this request. ♡

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

Deep in your heart you know how Connor feels for you. He wouldn't invite you over another continent, joining his world championship, if he wouldn't love you. But something inside you breaks. Seeing all these hockey couples with cute pictures, sending their girlfriend flowers and the players screaming from the rooftop how much they love their girlfriends.

Connor is not like this. He loves you, he cooks your favorite food and watches all movies you want to watch. He's so focused to play the best rookie year he could do and lost the focus on his private life. He doesn't want to post your relationship official, because of his fan base.

You're self-evident for him.

"Hey love", you smile with big eyebags, touching his shoulder as he walks in the hotel room. It's your first time after three days having a real conversation with him.

"Hi", his mouth is straight, kissing your temple and waking in the bathroom. You're exhausted from love-bombing him. You're so tired of being so upset.

"How was your day?", you ask him, hearing the shower. "I can do better", his voice echos back. "You're already enough, my love", you shout back and throw your body into the bed. You spread your arms apart, your legs are on the ground.

Connor comes out after a few minutes ago in a towel, his hair is still wet and he's looking fine.

"What is that?", he grabs a paper from the desk.

"So I hold onto your shirt, as I stain it with blood

Will I finally find my own peace?

Clear my mind out of my thoughts, then state that I'm in love

Tempted with the idea of dying in these sheets"

"I'm writing songs ", your voice shakes. Connor never noticed this because he's always busy and you're asleep when he comes home. You're working full-time in a job you don't like and at night you're writing songs. Hopefully to live from that one day.

Connor looks up from these lines, "since when?", he breathes in. Hid eyes get red. Red like crying. "over a year", you sit up on the bed, your arms are supporting your back.

"Why didn't you tell me, babe?", he sniffles.

Babe. How long didn't you hear this nickname?

"You were busy", you tell him the truth. Maybe he'll break up with you. Connor sobbs, "are you really feeling this way? Finally finding your own peace?", his blue eyes searching yours, you can see how much it burdens him.

"your lyrics are professional, they're so good", he cries and tries to hide it. Whipping his tears with his wrist, face to his bag with all clothes.

He's putting a shirt on, turning around. "I just need time to realize this, babe", he kisses your lips, you taste the salt from his tears.

"You have an important game tomorrow, I'm ok with that ", you response. He nods and lays down. Without a kiss, hug or this comfortable feeling.

He lays down and let you alone with all these thoughts in your head. He doesn't seem to care much about you. Maybe it's time to leave.

Next day Connor feels like shit, even in his hockey clothes, nice fans around his team. He slept surprisingly well, but feels like the night after silvester.

It burns in his chest, you don't feel happy. But why? Since when you're writing songs? as a good boyfriend he should know. What is he missing in this relationship.

He's not shitty boyfriend, he didn't know it's hurting you. He thought its okay that he's having a strict time schedule.

"Concentration, Bedsy!", his teammate hits his shoulder to wake him up from daydreaming. Like a robot Connor played his best game but the celebration feels like a crime.

"Yo Connor are you going out with us?", some boys asking him in the cabin to celebrate their win. "No", he wants to see you. He forgot how stunning you are. How hard working you are. You're a poet and he had no clue!

He walks in your hotel room, lights are out. Just some papers all over the bed. He grabs one paper, reading the lines.

'He grabs me by my neck

Puts a dagger to my heart

Tells me I'm a mess

That I'll never be enough'

Gosh, it hits him. You are more than enough. You're his safe place. He reads every paper, focused about what you feel. It's time to hear out what you need.

He grabs his phone, calling you.

"Hello?", your voice sounds happy. "Where are you, babe?", he asks interested. "I'm at the whirlpool inside the hotel, I'll come over in 5 minutes, okay?", you're scared he's mad when you're late. You thought he's celebrating with his team and won't come to bed until midnight.

You pack the stuff and walk back to your shared room.

The opened door shows you the sort out papers with your lyrics on your bed shelf.

Connor lays in bed, smiling softly. It's typical Connor, he's a clean guy.

He smiles. He smiles at you without talking about hockey. "Congratulations for winning, I'm proud of you", you stutter.

This view feels so surreal, having a relationship after months. Having a boyfriend waiting for you.

"You look beautiful", he grins angelic.

You stopped the last step, "what did you say?". Maybe you have issues with your ears.

"You look beautiful and I love you", he talks loud.

"Love you too?", your honest reaction. The last time he said it, he broke is jaw and was out of his mind because painkillers. Months ago.

"Uhm can we talk, please?", he pets your hand, when you lay down with him. It feels like home. Smelling his perfume, hearing his breath and touching you.

"Sure", you get insecure what's coming next.

"Ok it's not easy for me", one tear runs down his cheek. You're frightened, just able to nod.

"Why do you write songs with me as enemy?", his voice is distanced and cold.

"Oh I'm sorry I don't write lies!", you defense yourself.

"I'm a good boyfriend!", he argues, "you treat me like I'm self-evident!", you yell your frustration out of your lungs. So much pain inside your chest wants to come out of your mouth. So much unsayed words.

"No-", he argues back, more tears are coming out his blue eyes.

"Yes Connor! Yes, it's true! I love writing songs and I hate my job so much! I am crying every night because my boyfriend doesn't care about me and I'm all alone and you're hiding me from fans because you could have a ruined career, I get it!", you sob under choking your salty tears. You're outraged.

You take your pillow and lay down on the floor, Connor looks down, "come over".

"No", "god damn come over!", he huffs.

"You have practice tomorrow, good night!".

That's the last time you saw him for the next two days. He's busy. Semifinals are tonight and Connor posted something on Instagram, you're too upset to check.

One WAG comes to you at the game, giggles and tells you, "never thought Bedsy is a poet!". The game is already on fire but your fingers are like a magnet, they want to switch what he posted - even if he's an idiot.

He posted a picture of you reading a book in the garden, laughing at you without pressure, without hockey and in his caption;

"You can feel, when someone traces your skin

You can kneel, run, jump and also can spin

And when I close my eyes I wish I was just like you"

#connor bedard #connor Bedard x reader #connor Bedard imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #nhl hockey #Connor Bedard x you

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reminiscingtonight · 1 year

Text

Glitch

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 869

[WOSO Masterlist]

For someone who travels so often, it’s quite astonishing how much you actually hate doing so.

One would think that after flying from city to city at least once every couple of weeks you would be used to it, but even all these years down the line you still hate it with a burning passion.

Living on a different continent from your family only makes it all the more work, the off season often coming with more than a couple of flights taking you to visit friends and family before returning to the gloomy place you’ve come to call home.

Despite arriving late last night, jet lag has kept you wide awake. With only your thoughts and the gradually lighting sky keeping you company, you quietly chop at the fruits in front of you. It’s rare to find yourself awake at such an early time, so you make due with the peace that surrounds you.

So focused on preparing your smoothie, you don’t hear the click of your bedroom door opening. Nor do you hear the soft padding of feet making their way across the hardwood floors.

You barely hold in your squeak when you feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist.

“What are you doing up so early?”

The words are yawned into your ear, its owner gluing themselves against your back. She’s comfy and warm, making you want to melt right into the body behind you, but you try to hold strong.

“I’m making you a smoothie,” you respond instead, purposefully not answering the question.

You can feel Leah smile against your neck, lips lazily peppering kisses against your skin. “You should come back to bed,” she husks in response.

“You only have one thing on your mind, I swear.” Snorting, you move to grab the abandoned fruits, but Leah’s arms tighten against you, preventing you from escaping her grasp. “Leah.”

“(Y/N),” Leah teases, mocking the way you said her name.

Spinning around, you come face to face with a beaming grin. Despite the sleepiness still etched across Leah’s face, it’s easy to see the amusement sparkling in her eyes.

Huffing out a breath, you try to scoot around the blonde, but Leah acts fast to block you. Using your position to her advantage, she backs you up until your back hits the counter, nowhere left to go.

“You are a menace.” You laugh, arms coming up to wrap around the back of Leah’s neck. The blonde grins, face coming even closer to yours.

“Can you blame me? You’ve been gone for days. You’re never allowed to leave me for that long again.” If confronted about it Leah would deny it, but it sounds a lot like a whine as she complains about your brief time spent apart.

“Careful there, you sound like you’re falling in love with me, Williamson.”

Leah brushes away your tease. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just a two thousand one hundred and ninety day one night stand.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, not even bothering to question how she came up with the number on the spot. “I must be some one night stand then.”

This entire time Leah’s been inching closer and closer to you. By the time you say those last words, her lips are just millimeters away from your own.

“You’re the best one night stand,” she whispers, and just like that, she finally closes the gap between the two of you.

You all but melt into the kiss, body burning all over from where she’s touching you. Your eyes are all dazed and dreamy when Leah finally pulls back, and the glint in her eyes tells you she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

“Cat got your tongue?” She teases, fingers coming up to wipe up some pretend drool on your face.

“We’ve been over this. It’s not cute to nickname your own tongue ‘cat’,” you deadpan, ignoring the way Leah instantly starts stuttering.

“You know that’s not what I meant!”

It’s your turn to grin as Leah pouts at you.

The arm previously wiping at your face drops to the counter, effectively retrapping you between Leah and the counter. Your eyes briefly drop to the arms enclosing you before fixing themselves on Leah’s face again.

“Aren’t you glad we weren’t able to sweat each other out?” You hum, fingers playing with the hairs on the back of Leah’s neck.

Both of you can remember it like it was yesterday. You joining the team. The instant spark of attraction between the two of you. It was easy to justify sleeping together with nullifying the growing tension building between you guys as each day progressed.

You were both fools to think one time would be enough.

You can feel her shiver against you, eyes dropping to your lips again. “Six years worth of trials and still going. Wanna see if we can sweat it out again?”

It’s one of the worst pick up lines she’s ever used on you but it still works all the same.

“Happy anniversary, babe,” you mumble before reconnecting your lips.

And this time when Leah tries to pull you back to bed with her, you follow.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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orphicdreamers-wp · 5 months

Text

Happiness— Jack Hughes

Summary: In which Jack and your marriage has run its course.

Content Warning; Angst without a happy ending, divorce, emotional distress, etc

Pairings: Fem Reader x Jack Hughes, Fem Reader x Nico Hischier

Inspired by ‘Happiness’ By Taylor Swift

All the years I’ve given is just shit we’re dividing up

You stared at Jack hopelessly. You and him had been together since you were 15 years old. Now you sat oceans away from each other. The lawyer cleared her throat, “So all we’re doing here today is dividing assets before we get further into the divorce.” There was less than ten feet separating you and your husband of 4 years. However you felt like you were standing on separate continents. Danielle, the lawyer continued, “Neither of you brought dependents into the marriage is that correct?” You cleared your throat, “Yes, neither of us has children.”

Danielle nodded, “So it seems all we really need to cover is the properties. There’s the skyrise apartment in New Jersey, the high rise loft in NYC, the condo in Tampa and the apartment in Toronto.” Jack spoke up, “I only want the apartment in Jersey and Toronto.” Danielle turned to you with an expecting look on her face. You looked at Jack and let out a defeated sigh, “That’s fine. I didn’t come here to fight.” Jack shook his head slightly and faced Danielle who went on to explain the regulations on divorce and ownership of properties.

I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes me spot next to you.

This week had been really rough for you. You and Jack’s fifth anniversary would have been this week, and working so closely with Jack wasn’t helping. You had been cleaning your lens to your camera you’d used for tonight’s game when the players filed off the ice. Jack ending the line of players, and scoffing to himself as you smiled at him kindly. He walked past you and stopped when he he heard a feminine voice call out to him.

Out of habit you looked up to watch the scene unfold. A beautiful woman dressed in a long bright red furry coat and black leather pants with perfectly blown out black curls and bright red lipstick approached him and enveloped him into her embrace. You couldn’t make out the words that were being shared but the encounter ended with the woman kissing Jack warmly. You felt your heart drop into your stomach and you shoved your stuff into your bag and hurried to your office to upload the photos to your computer and hard drive.

No one teaches you what to do, when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him too.

The holiday season crept up on you this year. You’d been too wrapped up in rebuilding your life and relationship with yourself am your divorce. You had been roped into doing a Secret Santa with the players and the other social media administrators. You were somewhat disappointed in the fact you pulled Jack’s name. The holidays had always been the best time of year for you two. This would be the first year you weren’t together.

Jack was officially cursed, his girlfriend, Tessa had just found out that she was pregnant and then he was roped into doing Secret Santa. And with his luck this year he drew your name. He hadn’t spoken to you in a higher capacity then, “Are we done here?” Or “Where should I stand?” since the divorce was made final. He’d always sneered in your direction whenever he noticed you lingering or trying to be friendly with him. He just wasn’t ready for it to be amicable yet. He figured he’d probably just get you a candle or a gift card or something. If you’d gotten him you’d do the same thing.

You’d known Jack had grown to dislike the holidays since he and his siblings were all split up for Christmas due to their hockey schedules. You also knew that the Devils didn’t play again until the weekend after New Year’s. So you decided to buy two first class tickets to Vancouver for Jack and Luke, admittedly you went over the budget but you had saved the money all year for you and Jack to go for Christmas anyways. So you put those in a cute envelope and wrote a small note and slipped it in the envelope before sealing it and writing Jack’s name in beautiful calligraphy.

You slipped it onto the table of gifts on your way to your office the morning of the exchange. You went to your office and got to work updating Instagram and Twitter accounts. Eventually you ventured out to go get a cup of coffee, you had to walk past the table of gifts so you figured you would check to see if your gift was there and it wasn’t so you assumed it may have been in the possession of your secret Santa still. You went to get your coffee and drank it before rinsing your mug and putting it in the dish drainer after. You returned to your office and got out your camera and went to get some practice shots.

Hours later after practice everyone was ready to do the gift exchange so you all filed into the conference room. The gifts were passed out and you watched quietly as Jack picked up his envelope and Nico commented on the pretty handwriting. Luke glanced over at you, recognizing the handwriting from a birthday card he’d received from you and Jack a few years earlier. Jack opened the envelope and immediately broke out into a huge grin, “Because I know you miss them. Go home(Take Luke too.) It’s two first class tickets to Vancouver.” Luke looked at you as Jack looked around the room, “Who got these?” Everyone stayed quiet and Tyler, a right winger ended the silence by opening his gift which turned out to be a pair of arthritis socks given to him by Ethan.

You went to open yours, hopeful since it was a decent sized box. Your smile flattened as you lifted the top of the box. Inside were a box of tissues, a bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner conditioner, eye masks, concealer, some breath mints and some baby wipes. Tyler’s shit eating grin he’d been sporting the entire ordeal dropped as he caught a glimpse of the contents of the gift. He looked up, “You better be fucking around Hughes. You didn’t give her just that right? I mean how big of a douche can you be?” You waved it off, “It’s fine Ty. I don’t mind. There’s always a bad gift right?”

Nico shook his head spoke up, “No way sugar, there’s bad gifts like what I got and there’s unacceptable gifts.” Jack looked down at his feet, feeling internally bad upon seeing tears forming in your eyes as you defended probably the worst gift in the history of Secret Santa. Luke turned to his brother and spoke in a low tone, “You know she got you right? I mean you were her husband for 4 years you have to recognize her handwriting.” Jack froze as he looked at his brother who’d found a picture of a birthday card he’d received that had Jack’s name in the identical handwriting. He looked up to find you had left the room, leaving your gift on the table.

There’ll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you

It was the end of the season Devil’s banquet and you still had to shoot photos. You were sitting on the edge of the stage in a silk pale blue shimmery gown with a slit up the side and your hair pulled back and light lipstick adorning your otherwise makeup free face. You had your eye pressed against the viewfinder as you took pictures of the team and their significance others. Your eyes admittedly landing on Jack and his girlfriend more than they should. You were slightly startled when Nico sat down beside you, “So how’s my best girl doing tonight?”

You laughed, “Nico just because I’m your girlfriend doesn’t mean I have to be your best girl.” Nico smiled, “I know, but you’re still my best girl.” You smiled, “I’m alright Honey. You look nice.” Nico pressed a kiss against your cheek, “You look like Cinderella.” You giggled, “Does that make you Prince Charming?” Nico grinned, “Darling, I’d be Shrek if it made you happy.”

All you want from me now is the green light of forgiveness. You haven’t met the new me yet, and I think she’ll give you that.

You were straightening your office up before heading out for the weekend. You were logging out of your desktop when a knock on your door startled you. Jack smiled softly and held his hands up in surrender, “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I’m sorry.” You smiled as you scrawled a note for yourself to change your water filter next week, “You’re good Jack, what’s up? I’m on my way out now.” Jack rubbed his hands against his jeans, “I just want to apologize for everything, the divorce and all.”

You smiled, “Don’t worry about it Jack.” Jack shook his head in disagreement, “No way, I was royally shitty to you before, during and after the divorce was finalized. I’m sorry I treated you like that. I just guess I didn’t realize that my best friend was going through a divorce too not just me.” You smiled softly, “It’s okay Jack. It was your first time going through a divorce too. We just weren’t meant to be married anymore. I mean we got married like 5 seconds after we graduated high school. It wasn’t realistically going to work.” Jack laughed softly, “Are you sure we’re all good?”

You grinned as you crossed the room and engulfed him into a warm hug, “I’m going home to my boyfriend and your girlfriend is having a baby Hughie. We’re all good.” Jack smiled, “Thanks Y/n, I’ve missed being friends.” You smiled as you and him exited your office, “Me too. Drive safe Hughes, tell the boys I said hello and give your mom my love.” You walked away from Jack finally finding your inner happiness.

#fanfic #hockey #hockey player x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl #jack hughes x reader #jack x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils #nj devils #divorce

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alienpossession · 1 month

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Ethnographic Research: Part 1

Loud screams and flailing hands, yet no one to help as all of them already jumped off their boat in the middle of the lake. They can feel it, something is filling them up, fast, and they cannot do anything about it. But after a wild couple of minutes, deafening silence as no more scream for help coming out. Soon, they climb the ladder by the side of the boat and get back up to the deck, looking at each other with curiosity and gleeful, awkward smile. One of them then mouthed

"Let's inform the Mother Ship of a job well done," and just like that, the cold expression-less face turned warmer, rowdier even, as it takes on a more humane color and expression.

----

There's no such thing as a memo or pointers on "How to Perfectly Blend In among Human" or "Step-by-Step Guide for Seamless Integration into Human Society". At least not for the Xarthan. As an invasive, cruel yet hyper-intelligent extraterrestrial being, taking over by sheer force and adapting accordingly is always the playbook. It's in their DNA to give complete disregard of other species as long as their species advanced or survived through their tumultuous, warring lifestyle. Yet, a handful of Xarthan believed that there's a better way of life out there. That they don't have to continously move from one planet to the others, pillaging one's life after the other, just to get their euphoric-inducing stimulant release. That maybe killing other species is not the only way they can get that sensation that makes them alive. Their centuries of research eventually led the descendants of these slightly differing Xarthans to the small blue dot their transmission revealed to be called planet Earth.

So, these small pack of 20 Xarthans decided that their research hypothesis need to be verified. They descended in batches, 2 in each spot seemingly infested by human being and planned to converge after each of them lived at least around a month or two acclimatizing to Earth's society. Their mission is to verify whether or not the sexual release done by the male population of Earth released a similar stimulant to what the Xarthans experienced when they manage to exterminate other species

In a complete Xarthan's style, these batches of alien take over the first human they encountered with little to no regards about the life these human previously have. In its static form, a Xarthan is usually 7-8 feet tall, translucent and very slender being. But due to its "liquid" nature, it can adjust its shape. Upon contact of the vessel's internal water or blood, a Xarthan will merge with it and then spread itself through the entire system of the body. This also applies to bodies of water in the wild, so in the event of encountering bodies of water, a Xarthan can break down into millions of microparticles and takeover multiple vessels at once. After taken over, those vessels will be controlled by a singular hive mind as those microparticles originated from a single Xarthan entity before breaking down. That case happened to the unfortunate Pike boys and their girls who spent their time on a lakeside cabin for their weekend break. When they jumped to the water, they have no idea that 2 Xarthans just landed a couple minutes before right around the area where their boat stopped. Upon unknowingly making contact to the infested water, their bodies all contorted and spasmed as millions of microparticles swarmed their system. They tried their best to save themselves but it was just too much and before long, they were all taken over

Still in the States, but more to its Northwest area, the hunting group didn't realize that there's a pair of predator lurking around the shadows. The group went to Montana for a casual hunting since this is not yet the season for elk hunting anyway. They split themselves into group of two, not knowing that by the end of the day, a pair of them will be back as totally different person. That misfortune befell on Richard and Logan, the slightly more experience hunter among the group as they were USMC veteran and probably have the most experience with gun compared to the others. The Xarthans that took over their bodies laughed on the last memory the two humans have

"He was scared shitless. It was genuinely the most horrified he's ever been,"

"Yup, same goes here. I think he peed his pants HAHAH"

The 4 Xarthans in the States are just 1/5 out of the research group. If went according to the original plan, the other 16 will land around:

1. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

2. the Greek isles

3. Bangkok, Thailand

4. Ibiza, Spain

5. The Carribbean

6. Northern Europe, and

7. Eastern coast of Australia

#alien possession #male possession #alien expansion #alien takeover #EtRe Series

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pinkiemachine · 5 days

Text

Krypton: Factoids and Neat Things to Know!

Located in the nearby Andromeda Galaxy, specifically in the Rao system, Krypton was a cold, icy, crystalline planet. Fifth from its sun, most life existed in the habitable zone of its equator, which was always closest to the sun. This also meant that seasons did not occur the same way as on Earth, where the tilt of our axis causes the Northern and Southern Hemispheres to be further or closer to the sun depending on where we are in our orbit. Rather, Krypton’s orbit itself was slightly off kilter, meaning that while its axis was perfectly vertical, it would still experience colder and warmer months of its years depending on where in its orbit it was.

The summers there ranged from 60° to 70° at its warmest, and -10° to -20° during the coldest of the winter months. Further North or South of the habitable zone would mean even harsher, colder temperatures, and were generally only explored during the summer.

Krypton had two large continents—Lurvan, and Urrika—as well as several other smaller continents/islands like Vathlo. By the time the planet had neared its end, both continents had united under their own form of central leadership, with relatively peaceful ties between the two.

They were a Level 6 Star Faring race, and had dedicated much time, money, and resources into exploring the galaxy and inventing new technologies. They had made contact with the Green Lantern Corps decades before, had established contact with their neighbouring planet, Thoron, beginning trade with them, had made breakthrough after breakthrough with medicine and state-of-the-art technology, and had even been made a part of the Inter-Planetary Coalition (IPC). They had established contact and ties with many other planets, had set up minor colonies among the stars, and so much more.

Also, due to the fact that red suns send out WAY more radiation than yellow suns, Kryptonians are naturally able to absorb radiation, thus allowing them to fly and shoot lasers, etc. On Earth, Clark’s powers are actually WEAKER if you can believe it. Spiking in the summer, quelling in the winter.

As far culture goes, I haven’t written a whole lot yet, however, do not go making the assumption that they were a peaceful, all-knowing, always-do-gooding advanced race just because their technology is advanced. Like on Earth, there are layers. There was a gross amount of entertainment, mass media, disparity between the richest and the poorest, tons of struggles and problems that we humans know all too well. But, one main difference between them and, say, the United States, is that they had a much more structured system for their society. What I mean is, they leaned into classism a bit, and there were a ton of noble families still, the Els being one of them, children were taught to be well behaved and respectful, etc etc. it was all very upper crust. At least… among the upper crust. Elsewhere, different systems prevailed. At any rate, it’s very complicated and I need to dedicate some time to writing it out thoroughly.

Thank you for your time.

Part two here 👇

#dc #dc comics #fandom #superman #Krypton #fan fiction #head canon

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skyeventide · 10 months

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there's like, things about Dragon Age and the ancient elven empire there that I don't believe can quite be grasped unless you have a cursory understanding of either Tolkien or the Tolkien-generated trope of elves as an advanced civilisation of superior beings with magic/technology/knowledge/lore that is now lost and/or that largely influenced the remnants of the human empire, which substituted the elven one as the leading force in the continent. fantasy worlds like Dragon Age are deeply in conversation with that (and I guess like the Witcher or smth but I never read or played that, and didn't finish season 1, so my knowledge is second-hand; but either way).

the thing in Tolkien and Tolkien-generated tropes is that these elves are good. they're superior, they teach things to the second-coming races, they're narratively exalted, they're borderline divine, any kind of more or less violent colonialism (it happens) and feudalism (also happens) they instate is good, narratively obfuscated, or even justified. Tolkien has criticism of colonialism in his work, but rarely if ever goes all the way when it comes to elves. criticism of elven hierarchies based on clan and level of holiness and greatness are often narratively undermined (e.g. Eol, a character whose criticism of Turgon and the Noldor is diluted by the fact that he's awful as a person)(you can go into detail about Galadriel and Nimrodel but this post is technically a Dragon Age post lmao).

there's a Tolkien paper called "The Wretched of Middle Earth: An Orcish Manifesto" by Charles Mills, which goes into scathing detail about how the narrative sets up the elves as a superior race and consistently characterises the other groups, orcs, humans, dwarves, as racial inferiors. it's not afraid to call out "aryan" comparisons, without trying to argue that Tolkien actively believed in that ideology. the racial herarchy is there, in the text.

tl dr elves have all the rhetorical trappings of an empire... without ever being one. they're good, they're paternally helpful towards the humans they educate (who are therefore the superior humans), and they're good also and particularly in the sense that they never "fell" in a religious sense, no matter their individual actions (fastidious details and contradictions notwithstanding). they didn't abandon the true god.

what's happening in Dragon Age is that these elves, who are narratively presented as the "true" elves, the lost ideal, the immortals before modern elves turned from their ways and lost that immortality, the great advanced civilisation that probably taught humans before humans feasted on their remnants, these elves... are an empire. they conquer, enslave, pillage from the dwarves (another trope turned on its head; don't tell me the dwarves-elves peaceful companionship where the dwarves keep digging to satisfy the demand of material but they're also best friends with elves, turned to explicit war of conquest for possession of raw material in Dragon Age, doesn't elicit mithril-lyrium comparisons), have pantheon wars. this is the sole logical conclusion of those tropes. it's the subtext, the unspoken, the unspeakable, brought straight to light. it's the rhetoric of empire that's been buried in stories about elves brought to its only possible sensible end: this is an actual empire. there's no way it could have been anything else.

(this goes deeper with the numenor-gondor-tevinter comparisons, which are absolutely blatant when you know that gondor's precursors, numenor, went full empire, and that their last action before the island sank was attack the elves' blessed realm. if ar-pharazon and numenor had won, we could have gotten something very similar to Tevinter in storyline. only the Tolkien racial hierarchy simply cannot be toppled like that, it's practically divinely mandated and protected. the maker-the allfather directly and personally intervenes. but without this extremely disruptive and literal deus ex machina, that too is turned on its head in Dragon Age: it's not god who sinks the capital of the human empire to prevent their violent conquest AND traps the fighting humans underground, after the elves have fled instead of choosing to fight; it's humans who arrive, the elves flee, and then humans presumably sink the capital city into the ground. once again, when the ontological hierarchy of races and the divine decree of goodness and favour is removed, the true logical conclusion comes to the fore. one empire substitutes the other.)

#Dragon Age #The Silmarillion #I honestly think the choice of the elvhenan empire #built on decades-long tropes of fantasy and elves #is sheer genius #Elvhenan #JRR Tolkien

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dragonthunders01 · 9 months

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Spectember D5: Sexual Selection

Through the different timelines, there is an alternative world that witnessed a deep ice age in the Permian caused by a prominent shift of the continent crust moving Pangea down into the south pole and blocking ocean currents, worsening the life conditions and turning most of the continent in a tundra, in the aftermath when the position of Pangea returned to something like its original position life was changed greatly, as unlike in our timeline earth was not suffocated in fire but got cold so a new variety of animals developed and survived.

In the oceans, Holocephali had a resurgence post Permian mega ice age, as their groups did not suffer horrible, things like Petalodontiforms, Eugeneodontids and other did not perish, but then there were other more varied forms evolving too, some sample are within Chimaeriforms which they in a better spot now that they aren’t relegated to the deep ocean but as diverse surface dwellers, some groups started to exploit their clasper structure in ways that would make them look almost unfitting for survival, this as a response of sexual selection. From there, a new group evolved, the Clasperantlers (Delirocephalia)

They are short body forms, small caudal fins but with large pectoral fins, these have the peculiarity that male claspers now have become these super elaborated ornamental structures that works mostly for exhibition or fight, depending of the species. They derive from ornamental structures around the orbits and the whole dorsal fin spine that developed into an articulated claw-like structure, something resembling the ornamental spines of Symmoriiformes but capable of movement.

The most common species is the Pentanichecephale monstruorum, small in size, about 30 cm in length, females look pretty much average to a chimaera with short tail, with a small dorsal fin, but the male in the other hand possess an ostentatious arrangement of 5 long horn-like structures, being 2 pairs growing around the orbit, with the middle 5th one the derived dorsal fin. They tend to be moderate in size but when mating season approaches, they start to grow in size, being covered in layers of dead tissue and useful against other males, they can break and regenerate, males often have to stand multiple fights before mating with a female which can hold with the 5th horn.

#speculative evolution #alternative evolution #triassic #chimaera

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imagines--galore · 3 months

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||Mind Over Matter|| Part Fourteen

Summary: Evelyn is Penelope Garcia’s protégé. She is a tech wiz, and knows her way around any kind of security and just like her mentor knows how to dig deep and get into the past of anyone and has a knack for anything with a chip in it. Including potato chips. The one thing she fails at is figuring out is the mind and how it works.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Evelyn Richardson(OC)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Family. Some language, blood and violence in later installments.

Previously - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen,

A/N: So a few notes before you read this! There is a moment in this chapter which links to Episode 8 of Season 2. It involves Evelyn's involvement with the case, but its nothing major. So you won't have to see the episode to understand it. Also this chapter has mentions of sexual assault as will the next chapter, but nothing explicit don't worry! I just thought I'd warn you guys! This chapter is where I will be writing an original case for the Team. I hope you will like it! The Case will take place somewhere between after the 12th episode but before the 14th episode. Also Emily is here now! Woohoo! Enjoy the new chapter babes!

Takes place during and between episodes 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13. Season Two.

Though her gaze was steady and to anyone it would look like she was paying attention to the text in front of her Evelyn's real goal was to watch and observe the new member of their Team. Emily Prentiss. She had Penelope had already did background checks. Not digging too deep of course. What had caught Evelyn's eye was the fact that Emily had moved around a lot as a child. Something that Evelyn was familiar with as well. Though not as much as Emily. She'd only ever shifted from one state to the next, while Emily had shifted entire continents.

The black haired woman shifted and Evelyn quickly re-directed her gaze to the file in front of her. Hotch had introduced her before their more recent case and now that everyone was back and filing, it gave Evelyn a chance to observe, to take notes. This time when her gaze lifted she was with Agent Prentiss looking right back at her. Though her first instinct was to look away as soon as their eyes met, Evelyn managed not to do that. The other agent gave her a friendly smile, which the shy red head slowly returned, a flush of embarrassment rising to her cheeks as she finally went back to her file, this time with no intention of spying on her fellow team member again.

Putting aside another folder JJ sighed, before stretching her arms in the air and yawning, allowing the stiffness in her back to ease up.

"Need a little break?"

The blonde opened her eyes to catch sight of Evelyn standing at the door of her small office with a cup of coffee in each hand. "You are a saint." JJ praised, reaching out for her cup as the other woman walked in and handed one of the cups over to her friend.

Evelyn smiled. "I wouldn't say saint. Just a concerned friend and team member." She said as she settled in one of the chairs across JJ's desk. As she took a small sip of her beverage JJ smiled. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, each simply concentrating on their coffee.

"Today's the day isn't it?" Evelyn finally spoke, raising her bespectacled gaze to look at JJ who gave a sad smile, the cup of coffee nestled between both her hands as she rested her elbows on the desk.

"Yeah, noticed the necklace did you?" The blonde asked, referring to the piece of jewelry she wore around her neck. Evelyn shook her head. "I remembered." The two words prompted JJ to smile lovingly at her friend. There was a lapse of silence yet again, before Evelyn leaned forward reaching out to gently lay a hand on top of JJ's as it cradled the coffee cup.

"Is there anything I can do?" The red head asked, her tone soft and gentle. Blinking back the tears in her eyes her friend shook her head as she allowed the hand that Evelyn held to loosen her hold on the coffee cup, if only to feel more of the warmth emanating from the younger girl's hand. For comfort. "Just stay here for a little while?" JJ's voice quivered a little, and it prompted Evelyn to nod as she pulled her chair closer to the desk so as to easily wrap both her hands around JJ's, her own coffee forgotten. "As long as you need me to." Evelyn said with a gentle squeeze of her hands. A thankful smile was all JJ could managed as silent tears slowly started to trace a path down her cheeks.

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Derek Morgan glanced at his watch for the fifth time in the last half hour. Or that was as far as Spencer had counted. The young genius frowned as Morgan sighed in frustration, his leg bouncing. Clearly he was agitated about something. "Morgan? Whats wrong?" He commented, prompting Emily to glance up from her phone where she had been texting a friend. Morgan shook his head. "Nothing. Just waiting for something."

This time his eyes darted to Evelyn, who was busy at her desk, a pair of headphones resting around her ears to muffle out the noise of the bullpen. Her focus was solely on the small device in front of her as she fiddled with it. It almost seemed as if she were playing with the wires. Her glasses were actually taped behind her ears where they rested to prevent them from slipping down. Emily raised an eyebrow at the strange practice but neither Spencer nor Morgan seemed bothered by the notion. Both Emily and Spencer turned back to their respective tasks, though the latter snuck a few glances at the red head, admiring just how she was concentrating on the task at hand.

Fifteen minutes later Evelyn slumped back into her chair, smiling in satisfaction as she turned her gaze to Morgan. "All done!" She called out to the ex-cop. Darting from his chair Morgan grabbed his jacket and after taking the small device Evelyn had been fiddling with grinned at her in thanks. "This makes us even Ginger." He called over his shoulder as he all but jogged towards the elevator. Waving at the three of them as the elevator doors closed Evelyn turned to find both Emily and Spencer looking at her questioningly. She shrugged.

"I asked Morgan to be my muscle for a day. I modified the remote for him a little bit for his mother's birthday." Emily frowned. "I didn't know you dealt with machines." The black haired woman commented, prompting Evelyn to smile. "Well you are new to the Team. But yes, I may be an assistant or mentee to Penelope, but I also take care of putting away the files after every case. And dealing with computers and any and all kinds of electronic devices whenever the Team goes somewhere. Plus, I've had training with making and dismantling bombs."

"The last of which serves to give us nightmares." The grumble prompted Emily to raise an eyebrow and for Evelyn to blush with embarrassment. "Spencer thinks I should leave the last option to the people who have more experience with such things." The red head explained to Emily who gave a small nod. "I read your report on your most recent case dealing with a package at the gas station. It was very brave of you to offer to go inside and check it out." Evelyn smiled softly before shrugging. "Its my job." The sound of a book snapping shut prompted both women to stare dumb-founded as Spencer suddenly stood up and march out of the bull pen.

Emily frowned. "Is he alright?" She asked, worry lacing her tone to which Evelyn gave a small nod. "He will be. Once I reassure him that I'm alright. He was there when I went in. So I guess it would've been scary for him. Then again Morgan, Gideon and Hotch were there as well. Morgan hugged me once I was out safely. And Gideon and Hotch didn't say anything. Though I did get an earful from JJ and Penelope." She nodded in the direction where Spencer had strode off. "Spencer didn't say anything. And he's barely spoken to me since then." There was a sad look in her gaze, Emily noted, prompting her to wonder what the nature of Evelyn and Spencer's relationship was. Sighing the red head stood, straightening her cardigan and picking up the bag Spencer had left behind, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'd better go to him now. Bye Emily." With a parting wave the red head walked off, leaving Emily to make her own assumptions and theories.

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As she pulled on the protective gear Evelyn couldn't help the small feeling of fear settle into the pit of her stomach. This was her job. She would go through with it because it meant helping the Team catching the Unsub. And if her death would mean saving other lives, she'd do it.

Ever since she'd started her job as a BAU and FBI Agent, Evelyn had accepted the fact that there would come a time when she would have to give up her life for the greater good. Taking various courses in dismantling and creating bombs put her even more in the line of work which required some sort of sacrifice. Evelyn didn't hold any grudges against her own job. Her father had died serving his country. It would be an honor to go the same way.

Was this some form of hero-complex? She wondered once she'd adjusted her gear and took a few steps to make sure she wouldn't fall flat on her face. Probably. It was a good thing she wasn't a Profiler then.

"You're really going to do this?" At the question the red head looked towards the opening of the van where Spencer stood leaning against one of the open doors. Since she still wasn't wearing her head gear she could hear him properly. Evelyn adjusted her headset and gave a small nod to the cop sitting in the corner ready to turn on the device. "Yes Spencer. I am the only one qualified to do this. Aside from Morgan." She was quick to add. Morgan had argued once she volunteered for the task. But Hotch was the one who'd talked him down, knowing not only was Evelyn capable of handling the job but she had needed an opportunity to prove herself a worthy member of the Team. Something she found herself questioning at times. Of course she never talked to Hotch or Gideon about it. Somehow those two had a knack for picking up on these kinds of things about her.

"Hopefully this time you won't have to drag me out of a burning building." The red head added as a joke, though the look that she was met with once she turned her attention towards him, made her wish she'd never opened her mouth. "Hopefully." With that one word he was gone, leaving Evelyn with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

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Frustration would be the best way to describe how Spencer was feeling at the moment. And the reason for that frustration was Evelyn's disregard for her own life when she'd all but marched into the gas station with the possible bomb inside. Sure there hadn't been any bomb but the fear and terror had been real. And he hadn't been the only one to feel it. Morgan, Gideon and he was sure Hotch had felt it as well. But since Spencer was the one with the eidetic memory the moment would forever be clear in his mind. Along with the emotions that accompanied that moment.

It was a gift and a curse at the same time. A curse because he could and would forever relive every horrifying moment with dangerous clarity for the rest of his life. A gift because he could and would forever relive every blissful and happy moment with clarity for the rest of his life.

Like that day when he'd hugged Evelyn just before she'd met his mother.

Thinking of that moment Spencer found his frustration ebbing away. Yet he still felt angry towards Evelyn. He knew it was only because he had been worried about her. But the others had been just as worried as him. They were giving her the cold shoulder like he was. Was there a particular reason behind his behavior?

Walking to his desk on a new work day, Spencer was surprised to find a small box awaiting him. It was a plain white box and there was, what seemed like, a little note folded on top. He was normally the first one to arrive. So there was no one around to ask. Spying his bag where he had left it yesterday Spencer picked up the note and opened it.

Sorry for making you worry. But then you make me worry just as many times if not more. – Evie

He blinked, noting how she'd signed the card before his eyes dropped to the small box and he picked up the lid. Inside a vanilla cupcake with blue frosting sat snugly, with a small toothpick protruding from the center of the frosting, a small piece of paper glued to it, with the word Sorry, written in familiar cursive script with a small sad face at the end of the word.

Spencer couldn't help think how innocent yet endearing the small gesture was. And when he saw Evelyn stepping out of Hotch's office a moment later with a stack of files in her arms, he made sure to catch her eye and give her a small smile. The smile and blush he received in return made him wonder just why he'd been so frustrated with her.

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Settling into their respective seats and after having uploaded the information about the newest case for JJ to show the others into the screen, Evelyn settled into her seat as well. "Three nights ago, in New York, Manhattan, Bethany Heeds was found murdered in her home." JJ began, bringing up an image of a smiling brunette. "She was in her late twenties and her parents had been away on a trip. The cleaning lady came in and discovered the body." Another click and the image shifted to the sight of the woman laying on top of her bed looking as if she were simply sleeping if not for the knife protruding from the middle of her abdomen. The sheets underneath her were soaked with blood and her skin was a ghostly pale. "No signs of forced entry. The lab still isn't back with proof of sexual assault but with the previous two victim, I'd say it would come back as positive."

Her words were followed by another click and images of two other smiling brunettes came to the screen. "Josephine Beacons was found murdered in the beginning of last month, same m.o, while the girl with the nose pin, Hailey Field was murdered in the middle of the month. Both of them were found with traces of anesthesia in their bodies."

"Three murders per month. Beginning. Middle. End. Could be our pattern." Spencer pointed out, his fingers fiddling with a pen as he did. "And they were all murdered in their homes. It shows that the Unsub had watched them for a while and knew about their schedule to have set a trap and do what he came to do.

"Why leave them on the bed though? I mean he could've easily dumped the body somewhere. It'd have taken a long time to find the body." Emily asked, leaning forward in her chair as she frowned. "He hasn't displayed the body." Morgan noted as he picked up the image of all three murdered women from his file and laid them side to side on the table.

"The anesthesia would've made it hard for them to fight back. He could've been lying in wait for them?" Gideon shook his head. "No sign of forced entry." He pointed out. Hotch looked like he was about to add something when JJ spoke up. "There is another thing." The Team looked up from their respective files or notepads, in the case of Penelope and Evelyn.

"The police suspect everything that happened was being filmed on a laptop placed directly across from the bed of each victim." Hotch frowned. "How can they be so sure?" JJ nodded. "They had people testify the original location of the laptop. They were either on desks or beside their beds. Not all the way across the bed."

Gideon nodded. "Which means Evelyn will be coming with us." The red head gave a small nod.

"Wheels up in thirty." Hotch said, standing up. The rest of the Team followed suit.

Evelyn had barely taken a few steps when she felt a hand on her shoulder. "I need to speak with you." The rest of the Team filed out as the red head looked at Gideon curiously.

"Is everything alright?" The older man raised an eyebrow. "You tell me Evelyn. We are going to New York after all. And Manhattan no less. And I just happened to spot a rather familiar name on the emergency contact in the second victims personal information." The news had blue eyes widening behind the glass frame before they darted to the image of Hailey Field still illuminating the screen. "I thought she looked familiar." The girl muttered before sighing deeply.

Gideon too sighed before speaking. "What I want to know Evelyn is that will you be alright?" There was a few seconds of silence where the red head bit down on her lower lip, turning his question over and over in her head before she gave a small nod.

"Its about time that my sister met my Team isn't it?" She suggested, a slight tremor in her tone as she did her best to give her superior a convincing smile.

Gideon of course, was not fooled.

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Tag List - molethemollie @cillsnostalgia @aceofspades190 @kathaaaaaaa @lovelyygirl8

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer x oc #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x oc #dr spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds imagine #Criminal Minds

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evolutionsvoid · 9 months

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Those who live around the great conifer forests know this resident well, either from the hoots and hollers that can be heard through the canopy, or from the lumps on their head from previous encounters with this temperamental species. The agropelter is the arboreal ape of the north, living atop the pines and making sure no one forgets that. While some would say that they are famous for their bizarre boneless limbs and elastic reach, their real infamy comes from what they do with them. At this point, everyone on the continent should know that agropelters are extremely territorial, and do not take kindly to larger beasts wandering below their tree top homes. Those that intrude will hear angry hooting coming from up above, and that is your first warning. If you do not turn tail and run at the mere sound of that, the agropelter will give one more chance. What comes shortly after is the sharp cracking sound of splitting wood, like someone just snapped off a tree branch. It sounds like that because it is that, as the agropelter starts grabbing tree limbs and ripping them off. That noise is the last warning you get, as what follows is the ape opening fire. While agropelters have weaker limbs compared to other primates, they make up for it by whipping their arms with extreme speed and force. Some compare it to a whip, others see it like an atlatl, but no matter the comparison, the agropelter has one hell of a baseball pitch. When it throws its woody projectiles, it does so with enough force to crack bone and leave splinters in the flesh. They launch as many missiles as they need until the intruder is either gone or dead. And if they run out of branches? Well, that doesn't bother them, as they will just grab anything in reach and fire away. They can use pine cones, chunks of bark or even bird nests to assault the trespasser. During the winter, they may also grab handfuls of ice and snow to launch, starting a one sided snowball fight that can easily result in missing teeth.

When not raging war on any creature that intrudes on their territory, the agropelter swings effortlessly through the conifer canopy in search of food. Agropelters are avivores, with a particular taste for owls and woodpeckers. They may hide in hollow trees in wait for these birds, then lash out with a tendriled arm to snag them. Some have used their incredible throwing power and aim to snipe them from the skies, exploding flying birds into a ball of feathers and then rushing after the falling corpse. These hollow trees aren't only for hunting, but also act as their nests when it is time to sleep and a musical instrument when the breeding season kicks in. This special season only comes every four years, and the forests explode into a cacophony of noise when it happens. Male agropelters snap off tree branches and drum them against their hollow tree trunk, all while adding a serenade of booming hoots and yelps. Females seek out the loudest of them all, which means that sometimes lesser males will team up and attempt to "tone down" the bigger competition. Some males have been found sabotaging tree trunks before the breeding season kicks in, using their arms and weaponry to bust them up and ruin their drumming potential. The bigger males must keep an eye out for these saboteurs, and they unleash a flurry of angry whipping arms at them til they scatter. Those that succeed in winning over a female will soon be father to three or five pups, which will spend their early years hiding in the hollow tree. They will be raised on the mother's milk while the male goes out to fetch birds for them. The young will also dine on owl and woodpecker, and will use the leftover bones to practice their throwing arm. Trees, birds and their siblings will be the target of their aim, but at such an age their throws are harmless.

For the people who lived around these forests, the agropelter was either one of two things. To those who loved the forest as it was, they were the guardians of it. To those who saw the forest as a profit, they were a menace. Agropelters are universally hated by all lumberjacks and loggers, as every job in a conifer forest is dealing with a painful rain of wood and pine cones. Their assaults on logging camps and the axe-wielding men within became so bad, that CTE was listed as the number one condition and death associated with being a lumberjack. Quite a few injuries came to be when some of the loggers decided to fight back, usually in a drunken state. After putting back a few, some of the men would take to throwing beer cans and bottles at the apes, giving them a taste of their own medicine. However, the apes would simply grab these lobbed missiles and do an ol' "return to sender." When doctors found themselves picking glass shards out of a logger's skull, they knew how such a grievous wound came to be.

With the agropelters furiously guarding their domain, many forest loving folk came to believe that these massive pine forests would remain untouched. No logging company would risk the men and insurance costs to chop down these trees, so thus they would be left in peace. Sadly, that is not how things work in this day and age. The agropelters had their powerful throw and arsenal behind them, but at the end of the day, they were still fighting a war with sticks. A man with an axe was no match to that, and a man with a chainsaw fared no better. But when man in armored bulldozers and feller bunchers rolled onto the battlefield, they finally knew defeat. Logging companies fitted their vehicles like they were going to war, with extra armor and bulletproof glass. Some even went literal with it and hired sharpshooters to snipe the apes from the branches. The agropelters gave all they could, but mere sticks and pine cones did little against the unstoppable march of man and his machines. Many agropelter forests were logged, destroying their homes and scaring off their food source. Whenever the owls and woodpeckers left, the agropelters were forced to follow. Plenty of people in the public argued against this destruction and the eviction of these species, but lobbyists and lumber mills had the agropelter's infamy on their side. With those nasty apes gone, now you can hike in what's left of these woods in peace! Aren't you glad you can go for a walk through the pines without getting a concussion? And they eat precious owls and woodpeckers too! Why, if it wasn't for agropelters, we probably would still have the ivory-billed woodpecker around! The notoriety of these apes severely dampened whatever sympathy their fate garnered, and soon their numbers began to fall.

Though many of their habitat were lost, there were still forests left untouched and several pockets of these agropelters left in peace. Protests and legislation halted logging in some places, which added to the number of sanctuaries remaining. Here the agropelter can still remain, though threats to woodpecker and owl populations in general can still mean trouble for them. But these pine forests aren't the only place these apes are found now, as those who lost their homes didn't always lose their lives. When a forest was cleared out to set up residential areas and suburbs, what agropelters remained decided to move right in. Though their hollow trees are now gone, they found something appealing in the shiny lattice transmission towers and electrical poles. The sight of a bunch of dead branches and junk jammed into the center of these hollow towers is confirmation that an agropelter has set up shop. Some have broken into attics and chimneys, trying to make nests there, though the human residents are quick to evict them.

While the owls and woodpeckers have left these areas, these urban agropelters have seemed to develop a taste for different birds, like crows, pigeons and geese. They still have a love for owls, which was an early problem during their settlement when agropelters were tricked by decoy owls people put on their roofs. The excited primate would rush to snag this prized treat, only to find it mere inedible plastic. Depriving them of this joy puts them in a foul mood, which meant lots of property damage. Folk in these areas have banned decoy owls, as the freak out that comes from frustrated agropelters has ruined many roofs, windows and cars. To make matters worse, they have substituted their weaponry as well, since tree branches aren't readily available. Shingles, gutters, bricks, even satellite dishes are launched at people who get too close. Multiple power outages have occurred when power company employees have tried to get rid of nesting agropelters and one of these primates started ripping at the transformers and cables.

One infamous case had an agropelter taking up residence in the local church's steeple. When the church's minister was found brained by the cross that once sat atop the spire, police and animal control were called in to put the beast down. Though the agropelter was eventually shot, the famous photo of a church bell through a police car's windshield was slapped onto every paper in the country.

As of now, the fate of the agropelter seems up in the air. Those that still live in their forest homes may perhaps be safe from what the future brings, but those that still struggle to exist in the land of man may not be so lucky. They fight fiercely, but everyone knows what happens to the animal that dares bite the hand of humanity. Some believe it is only a matter of time before these urban agropelters are wiped out, and the species is kept confined to the pine trees. But some believers hold out the hope that a peace can be brokered, and that the two species can coexist. Despite their reputation, there are certainly people who have a love for the agropelter, and wish them a better fate. Most assume that these people watched the movie "Ed" as children, which was about a baseball loving agropelter. Who couldn't fall in love with Ed's wacky antics and mean pitch? Those who hold this fondness for this movie probably never looked up what happened behind the scenes during the sequel. In hindsight, it was a real dumb idea to let one of these apes near a bucket of real baseballs. You ever hear of that pitcher that killed a bird with his throw? Yeah, Ed has got him pretty beat on pitch speed and body count....

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Lets toss in an ol Fearsome Critter with the crowd. Discussed this one with Lediblock2 !

#agropelter #fearsome critter #fearsome creature #monster #art #drawing

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d-andilion · 1 year

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sing me a tragedy

(geraskier, E, canon compliant, blood origin spoilers, getting together, angst with a happy ending, vague and handwavy smut, it barely counts tbh, 2.6k)

read on ao3

Hidden in the underground, far from the beaten path, Geralt watches his bard whip a crowd of humanity’s most despised into a beer-fueled frenzy. Not to earn their supper or their lodgings this time; the elf who owns this worn but well-loved waystation refused to accept coin for either after what the Sandpiper did for her grandson, seeing the boy on a ship to her arms. Right now, Jaskier plays because their fellow patrons chanted his name until he obliged.

Geralt has to admit that Jaskier has more than proven himself as a travel companion these past few weeks. Since leaving the safety of Kaer Morhen, Ciri in Yennefer’s care for the season, finding places to keep their heads low has been a challenge. A challenge, at least, among humans. The Sandpiper, however, has won great favor with elves, dwarves, halflings, and just about every other intelligent species on the Continent. In their carefully concealed taverns and speakeasies, Jaskier is received like royalty.

“Sing loud and proud

The Song of the Seven

Be you halfling or gnome,

Or Dwarven or Elven”

This song is a new one. In fairness, most of Jaskier’s tunes are new to Geralt these days. Jaskier hasn’t abandoned his older repertoire, but he avoids large swathes of it to ward off any unwelcome attention. This one, though, feels different than the other additions to Jaskier’s catalog since their parting. More heroics than heartbreak, and a fiery call to action that sets it apart from his typical drama and sensation.

So much about Jaskier is different than Geralt remembers, his songs being the least of it. A few years is nothing in the grand scheme of their history, even less compared to all the years Geralt has lived, but it feels as though decades have slipped between his fingers. So many things have changed, things that Geralt didn’t realize he’d come to see as fixtures in his world until they disappeared, some of them forever.

There’s the lute, for one thing. Jaskier has been cagey about how exactly a brand new elven lute came to be in his possession after the first one was destroyed against the side of his head, but it plays as beautifully for him as Filavandrel’s ever did. It’s nearly identical in style, too, with dark wood and golden patterns etched into it. Anyone who didn’t spend half a lifetime watching Jaskier’s long fingers dance along the strings would never be able to tell that this lute’s pattern of markings is different from its predecessor’s.

There’s the outfit, too. The waistcoat is similar enough to patterns and styles that Jaskier has worn before, but the hat and jacket make him look like a third-rate imitation of a storybook pirate. It’s nothing at all like the bright-colored matching ensembles he used to wear, though it’s nearly as impractical if not more so. Geralt honestly can’t tell if he hates it because it’s ridiculous or because it doesn’t fit into the gallery of bold greens and soft blues and glaring reds that roll through his mind when he thinks of his bard.

And there’s the bard himself, of course. Not really Geralt’s anymore if he ever was. He’s still loud and dramatic and filled to the brim with useless romantic notions about what the world is or ought to be. But there’s something lurking underneath it all now, something harder and fiercer behind his eyes than anything Geralt has seen in him before. The harshness of a man who’s seen the senseless death and darkness of war. The bitterness of one who’s been left behind and expects to be again.

There’s none of that in him when he performs, though. Or else he hides it far more efficiently. Even to Geralt’s honed eye, Jaskier exudes only joy when he sings.

“No oppressor can hide them

Carry their glories and rise!”

Jaskier finishes with a roaring flourish and the crowd chants his words back to him twice as loud. This Song of the Seven may be more popular than Toss a coin ever was. Geralt has never seen an audience warm so quickly to a new tune, much less poor folk in a war-torn country. These people need hope now more than anything.

The barkeep pushes a pair of ales at Jaskier as he passes by and refuses to take a cent for them despite Jaskier’s best efforts. He finally gives up when she threatens him with a broom, turning to Geralt’s dark corner of the room.

“That’s new,” says Geralt as Jaskier sits down, passing a stein to his side of the table.

Jaskier crooks an eyebrow at him and smirks. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that. Before, he might not have thought twice about teasing so light as that, but this, too, has changed. Sometimes there’s banter and sometimes there are digs from that snarl of discontent that still rears up between them, and Geralt can never really be sure which he’s getting.

Jaskier takes pity on him, smiling easily. “It came from a story I heard in Temeria,” he says. “There’s a bard in it, you know. And a witcher.”

He looks for a moment like he means to say more, but then the corner of his mouth twists sharply and he snaps it shut with an audible click. Jaskier smiles again, this time cruel and close-lipped.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says.

Before Geralt can think of anything to say, any comfort or correction to whatever it is he’s done wrong this time, Jaskier stands up and flees to a nearby table of dwarves. He doesn’t look back.

An hour or so later, the revelry dies down and the bar room clears out but for a few stragglers. Jaskier is among them, across the room now from Geralt at an empty table with a drink Geralt knows is almost completely full. Geralt watched the bard carefully while he made round after round of the room, soaking up the occupants’ stories and sharing his own entirely fabricated ones. Half a dozen rounds were shoved into Jaskier’s hands, and he took them gratefully with bright smiles, but he abandoned them just as quickly when their givers were occupied.

When Geralt found Jaskier in Oxenfurt, he couldn’t be parted from a bottle for his life. Now his drinking comes and goes. Some days he dulls his senses with wine from dusk till dawn. Some days are like this: feigning all the trappings of a man in his cups without downing more than a mouthful.

Geralt leaves his own stein half-full with a few coins beside it and turns for Jaskier’s table. Another Geralt might have left his friend to sulk, but that Geralt wouldn’t have used the word ‘friend’ to describe Jaskier, not even in his head. This one is trying to make amends, still, all these many months later.

If Jaskier hears him coming, he doesn’t show it. Geralt sits on the bench beside him, facing out towards the room with his back against the table, and Jaskier doesn’t give him so much as a glance. Their shoulders just barely brush.

“Tell me your story,” says Geralt. “About the bard and the witcher.”

Jaskier fixes him with a confused frown. “It doesn’t—”

“Tell me anyway.”

Geralt watches Jaskier watch him through a long, pregnant pause. Blue eyes, still so bright in the low light, search Geralt’s face and he can’t tell whether they find what they’re looking for or not. Either way, Jaskier huffs a humorless laugh to himself and speaks.

“It was a long time ago, just before the Conjunction.”

Jaskier pauses again like he’s waiting for Geralt to correct him. There were no witchers before the Conjunction; there was no need for them. Geralt doesn’t say so, though. Instead, he waits patiently for Jaskier to continue.

“The witcher was a warrior,” he says. “A protector, wrongfully exiled for defiling a princess.”

Jaskier eyes Geralt again, warier this time. Geralt feels that twist in his gut the way he always does, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“The bard was a runaway, fleeing a life that was chosen for her.” Jaskier grins at that, small and wistful. “Fate brought them together, but they chose to walk side by side.”

It’s not a pretty story, exactly, but it’s the kind of story that has always caught Jaskier’s attention. A ragtag group of heroes, an indomitable foe, magic, monsters, and romance to tie it all together. It might even be true for all Geralt knows. The way Jaskier tells it, his voice soft and his phrases unembellished, so unlike his usual way of weaving tales, makes the whole thing almost believable. They’ve all seen stranger things.

Geralt doesn’t miss the shift in the air around Jaskier when he talks about the Lark and her witcher. His heart beats just the slightest bit faster and his scent deepens imperceptibly to anyone who doesn’t know it better than their own. Geralt isn’t blind to his own reaction either, the heaviness in his chest that grows and grows.

Contrary to popular belief, Geralt isn’t stupid. It’s not that he doesn’t know how much he wants Jaskier. The depths of that desire plunge too deep to go unnoticed, and it has holed up inside him for so long, he doesn’t know who he would be without it. It’s not that he doesn’t know how Jaskier feels either. The bard isn’t subtle and he has never insulted either of their intelligence by pretending to be.

What Geralt doesn’t know has never been the problem. It’s what he does know. And what he knows, has always known, is that acting on his wants would be a singularly terrible idea.

But that was before. Before Geralt’s own Child Surprise foretold the end of the world and all of them with it. Before he landed with his own feet in another sphere of demons and monsters beyond his wildest imaginings. Before all of them wound up tangled in a war with nightmares, more terrifying than any foolish mistake, hidden around every corner.

Before Geralt knew what it felt like to lose Jaskier. And before he knew with crushing certainty that to have done so without ever knowing what it felt like to have Jaskier, really have him, is worse than any fear Geralt has ever felt.

“She killed him, in the end, to end his suffering,” says Jaskier softly.

“Not a very happy story,” Geralt replies.

“Some of the best stories are tragedies. It’s romantic.”

Geralt frowns. “But he dies at the end.”

Jaskier smiles miserably. “I think you and I both know that love doesn’t always have a happy ending.”

That plucks something sharp in Geralt’s chest, something that twists at the bitter shadow in Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck it, Geralt thinks, fuck all of it. He takes Jaskier's chin between his thumb and his forefinger and kisses him before good sense can frighten either of them away again.

There’s a gut-wrenching fraction of a second where Jaskier’s mouth is still against Geralt’s, but within the same heartbeat, he’s kissing back and back and back. Jaskier’s hand curls around Geralt’s wrist, holding himself in place as if Geralt would ever let him go now. His lips part for Geralt’s tongue with a soft groan and he tastes like his last sip of ale. Geralt feels drunk on it, on Jaskier, the plush warmth of his mouth, and the scent of his growing arousal filling Geralt’s nose.

The harsh scrape of chair legs on a wooden floor startles them apart. Geralt’s head snaps up to find the barkeep straightening her stools, eyes focused downward but a knowing grin on her lips.

When he turns back, Jaskier hasn’t pulled away but his uneasy expression says that the thought is playing on his mind. He looks at Geralt like he’s waiting to be pushed away, even as he clutches Geralt’s wrist. Geralt pulls Jaskier back to him, fingers still cradling the bard’s chin, until their noses brush.

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks and his hot breath rolls over Geralt’s lips carrying the taste of his mouth to Geralt’s tongue, and even that faint echo makes Geralt’s heart stutter.

“Kicking off another tragedy, I expect.”

Jaskier pushes their foreheads together. “You can still stop this one.”

“No,” says Geralt and it feels like surrender. “No, I can’t.”

The small hearth in their room is dark and cold when they stumble inside. Geralt can see well enough to guide them both, but he tears himself away from Jaskier’s hungry kisses to light the fire. When it’s finally ablaze and he turns to find the bard sprawled out on their bed, discarding the last of his clothing, Geralt is glad he took the time.

Even if only in the dim red light, cast over with long and flickering shadows, he wants to see this.

This—miles of bare skin, calloused and scarred in places it wasn’t when last Geralt laid eyes on it, and quivering as he presses his lips to every place he should have been there to protect. Jaskier is so warm to touch, so much warmer than Geralt, his emphatically human heart hammering away in his chest for both of them.

This—achingly familiar hands with long fingers and soft palms, gliding over the shine of sweat on Geralt’s chest and his arms and his back. Jaskier is so gentle with his touches, as though Geralt could break beneath them, as though Jaskier would ever break him even if he could. But then Geralt touches just so and nails bite into his skin and he longs to see their matching bruises side by side.

This—a hungry mouth that kisses wherever it can and urges Geralt to give, to take. Every graze of his fingers, his lips, his tongue, draws the sweetest sounds. Jaskier is so liberal with his voice, utterly without shame as he tells Geralt exactly what he needs and how good he feels, as he begs him to touch me darling, there, again, more, more, please, please, please…

Every sense, every synapse, every nerve is straining to capture this moment because if their world ends tomorrow, Geralt wants his last memory to be the way Jaskier clings to him, sings to him, as he pushes inside.

Each second stretches into a thousand and disappears in an instant all at once. An eternity is lived in the space between each of Jaskier’s gorgeous moans and breathless cries, but too soon, Geralt feels himself hurtling over the edge. He comes with Jaskier’s name on his lips and the hot burn of tears behind his eyes.

They lie there, silent but for their breath, while their sweat dries and the fire burns to embers. Geralt fits himself to Jaskier’s back, a knee between his, an arm circling his waist, and his face tucked into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. The bard reaches back to tangle his fingers in Geralt’s hair and begins to hum an unfamiliar tune.

“That’s new,” Geralt rumbles, muffled by Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier hums in agreement. “I think it’s about a bard and a witcher.”

Geralt takes a few long, slow breaths before he replies. “Another tragedy?”

Jaskier presses the tips of his fingers against Geralt’s scalp and massages along the back of his head until he finds a spot he discovered years ago while scrubbing drowner brains from Geralt’s hair, the one that elicits a sound very near purring. Geralt no longer expects an answer, but he gets one after his eyes have long fallen shut, whispered into the gathering darkness.

“Not this time.”

my masterlist

#blood origin spoilers #geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #my fic #mine

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hexotoner · 3 months

Text

So, I made a short story based in certain song.

I hope you enjoy!

Come Little children...

Each kind of monster has a story to explain their origin, the wise have come to the conclusion that the great colossals brought their creativity to our creation, however, among the true and legends of others there are our own, ignored by others, for us a reality that remains after generations like bedtime stories for our monsterlings; like several stories it has changed, at this point we do not know how the real story was, even so the most popular and accurate version is always told. One thing is certain, in every story, in every legend something never changes, the song which it all began.

Before the great Dawn of fire, when the colossals gave life to a home for all. The celestials, the protectors of these elements, dedicated themselves to guiding and protecting the creations, however, among so much joy one of them made himself heard; The colossals had forgotten his element, they forgot to create life for the shadow and darkness. Even his pleas were not heard because the element was seen as useless and weak, especially in the face of the power of the fire, so powerful and brilliant. The jealousy was expected...

That celestial, immersed in humiliation and rejection, devised a plan

One night, peace reigned among the natural monsters; After a long time of incubation, the hatching season had begun, so many monsterlings had just hatched along with their brothers from years past. A night of calm between parents and children who sleep next to them.

Suddenly, as the moon rose high, Shadowed Glare shone; A sweet and deep voice began to sing along with the music of a piano, a song that we remember to this day:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Come Little children

I'll Take Thee Away, Into A Land

Of Enchantment

Come Little Children

The Time's Come To Play

Here In My Garden

Of Shadows"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The memories are vague, hypnotized by the sweet sound of his song. Every monsterling, newborn and young, was called to follow that voice across the continent. Each monster of earth, cold, water, plant, air or fire; each little one was called. They were guided to the highest and nearest cliff, where the celestial awaited them.

One by one, under the light of the moon and the control of the shadows, they fell from the cliff. Fear covered some who feared a fatal destiny... Then, the celestial raising his hand called to the fallen, they began to fly. Young monsters as dark as the night opened their wings and took flight towards the moon, the other little ones then realized that under the protection of darkness nothing would happen to them. It continued like this all night.

His sweet song, so hypnotizing and beautiful, came to an end, on the other side of the sky the great and dazzling sun was present, its light woke up the unsuspecting parents giving them the news that their little ones have disappeared. Meanwhile, that celestial, giving his last verse, lowered the immense and elegant moon to its ancestral rest; The few monsterlings that remained were quick to fall and fly towards that beauty and brilliant.

A little tweedle did not want to fly, cursed with the lack of its wing at birth, it approached to the celestial, afraid of falling. When he saw it, he smiled, taking it in his hands and covering its wing. The sun approaches, the parents scream and run guided by the sun toward the dark end of their little ones. That celestial threw the tweedle off the cliff... And it flew, the last monster of the shadows took flight accompanied by the celestial who guided it to the Moon, which has already hidden.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Come Little Children

The Time's Come To Play

Here In My Garden

Of Shadows"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It was the last thing that was heard in the echo of that cliff

The next day the continent was silent, an entire generation had disappeared into the darkness. For years the monsters refused to sing until the story was forgotten and ignored...

What happened to that celestial? Every day he smiled, looking at those who could not do anything, at the fire celestial that could not illuminate the night and now his people were in despair and silence.

"This is a story that I like to remember, there is nothing physical to prove it, the original grumpyres have perished naturally, their descendants vaguely remember the story. However, I know what I once saw, the memory of what I lived. No matter how much time passes, my wing has never felt better. Still, I miss the purple of my old feathers."

#my singing monsters #loodvigg #msm #writting #my singing monsters writting #come little children #come little children msm au #not really an au lol #short story

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