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korereapers · 7 months

Text

Title: Tainted

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Ship/Pairing: Astarion Ancunín/Gale Dekarios, bloodweave

Warnings: smut, Netherese orb shenanigans. LOTS OF FLUFF

AO3

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It has been a mistake on his part, and Gale can't help but blame himself for it. Who would be to blame, if not him and his foolishness? For how much he prides himself in his intelligence, evidence suggests that he has been, yet again, way too impulsive.

"It's more than fine, darling," Astarion says after a deep sigh, and Gale knows that he must be lying. It's not fine, nothing is fine, and Astarion's thumb on the corner of his own lips, licking it absentmindedly, tells him that he has, indeed, ruined the night.

"I swear to you, Astarion. In Mystra's name, I swear I had no idea-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Astarion exclaims, clearly irritated, baring his fangs dangerously, but Gale has learned to discern real danger from just a very visible frustration. "I know you had no idea! I know you wouldn't! Can you please keep that goddess of yours out of this?"

Gale bites his own tongue, because everything he can say would make the situation worse. He knows that Astarion blames Mystra for his situation, but Gale knows well enough that he has nobody to blame but himself. His foolishness, his impulsiveness. It wasn't hubris, not really, not as he understands it. He wanted her to like him, to admire him like he does, to-

"Honey," Astarion says, a hand with long fingers on Gale's cheek, a tentative touch that desperately makes him want to go back to reality, far from these thoughts. Can he allow himself that, though? Doesn't he owe him, them all, himself, and Mystra the guilt he is feeling? Isn't it better to do something useful with it, to use what he has inside of his chest for something good, instead of corrupting everything good that has ever happened to him? "Gale. Stop thinking. Look at me."

Gale smiles weakly at that.

"I am afraid, my vampiric companion, that ceasing all thought is kind of an impossible task-"

Astarion groans exasperatedly.

"Wizards… Fucking wizards."

"I mean. At this moment. I am brimming with thoughts. And not the good kind, I assure you."

Astarion's touch is cold, almost grounding. Red eyes look at him with worry, as if Gale was the one hurt, and not the other way around. It makes the hole inside of his chest feel bigger, the orb thrumming softly.

"Don't try and deflect again. That’s supposed to be my job."

Deep down, Astarion cares. He cares, because he reacts, sometimes viscerally, to the choices the group makes, to what Gale does to him, or to himself. Blood might not flow naturally inside of his body, but anger can make it boil just the same. Sadness does make his eyes sink, his movements slower. Happiness making his features shine, too young to what he had to endure, too full of life.

Gale doesn’t really want to think about when Astarion’s expression shows fear.

“I am aware of the… reservations you had towards us getting intimate. I of course intended to give you space. I tried my best at it,” Gale starts, his voice a little high, panic still fresh in his body. “I wanted to give you a special night. A night you would never forget.”

As if in cue, the starry sky becomes even more beautiful, its colors more intense. It’s a miracle that Gale hasn’t lost his concentration, given the circumstances, his magic still a wonder to Astarion, who looks up for a brief moment, only for his eyes to be back on Gale’s a second later.

It might be dark, but Gale works his magic for human eyes, and Astarion is an elf, and a vampire. He can see his warm eyes, rightfully worried, even if his worry is misplaced, this time. He sees how he gulps, he can almost feel every breath, even more because Astarion himself doesn’t have to, his lungs useless long ago. His blood, warm inside of him, the most tempting current, its flow a temptation he has learned to ignore most of the time.

He is aware, both of them are. Gale’s blood is corrupted, the orb inside of his chest making his body slowly rot from the inside, its magic taking Gale’s, and everything he touches with a purpose. Astarion hasn’t tried it again, Gale being adamant about it, about how dangerous it might be for him.

Gale is sure it is, at least. Not an acquired taste, as Astarion had tried to put it. As it turns out, it was not just his blood that got tainted by the Netherese orb, but many, many other parts of his body. Which is why, when Astarion had made the exact same face he did back when he first tried his blood while trying another completely different fluid of his, Gale had panicked.

Blood is one thing. It’s different when your vampire companion tries to bite you against your will, and he bites more than he can chew. Quite literally. Enjoying the… attentions Astarion’s mouth gives to him, after weeks of dancing around each other? After a well needed conversation about how Gale hasn’t had a partner after Mystra, while Astarion very much prefers not to be touched sexually until he feels ready? That’s a completely different thing.

Gale has ruined it all. Again.

It’s surprising, because he feels their illithids close, together, connecting. Astarion might not be able to understand, but wants to. His expression relaxes as Gale lets him connect, lets him see. There is no point in hiding anything anymore.

“You wanted to make it special. For me.”

Gale nods, closing his eyes when Astarion closes the gap between them, not to kiss him, but to touch his forehead with his own. Astarion, who doesn’t like physical touch, initiates it with someone like Gale, who caresses his cold face as if it was easy.

“You are afraid of this eternal feeling of yours. You feel that you are not good enough, that you have to impress me to make me think that you’re… worthwhile. That you have failed me and you have failed yourself.”

Gale doesn’t even try to hide, a sigh escaping his lips, his heart sinking when Astarion imitates the gesture a second later. He can feel his irritation through the tadpole, but Astarion keeps his cards close, he always does. The connection gets interrupted when Astarion moves, and Gale is, indeed, afraid. Afraid that he has ruined it even more.

Mystra didn’t deem him worthy. Maybe Astarion thinks the same.

The vampire shakes his head, graciously, and Gale finds himself looking, red eyes shining in what he recognizes as anger. Anger at him, maybe. That would be understandable, as Gale Dekarios seems to have a talent to make people angry at him.

“That’s… oddly self centered, don’t you think?”

Like that, Gale’s mind goes blank. He registers the words, but they don’t make sense to him. A part of him makes his blood burn with rage at the audacity, but the sad, heavy feeling that reminds him that he deserves it is too overwhelming for the rage to take place. It drowns its embers without effort, and Gale is left weak, his shoulders slumped.

Here it comes. The punishment.

“You don’t get to decide what to think and what to feel. Only I get to decide that.”

Gale wants to speak, really, he does. He has practiced speeches for situations like this, so usual with Mystra, having to use his silver tongue to get in her good graces again, until he couldn’t do it anymore. Until no words would appease her.

He can’t talk, though, because his lips are sealed with Astarion’s, whose anger seems to translate into a particularly rough kiss. A kiss that hurts, a kiss that heals. A kiss that makes him bleed.

He wants to warn him, he really does, but his brain feels foggy, almost as if it wasn’t his own. Gale kisses him back, selfishly, and he feels Astarion tense when he drinks, the taste probably hellish. Everything in him surely tastes like Hell.

But Astarion doesn’t relent, and damn, Gale knows that neither of them are particularly strong, but Astarion manages to push him into the floor, letting him breathe just before he kisses him again. A different type of hunger, he guesses. His red eyes burn like a predator’s, and Gale wonders, even if for a brief moment, what color they used to be.

“Stupid fucking wizard. When are you going to stop being lost in your own mind? I care about you, everyone cares about you. You feed and take care of this group of weirdos, you talk and talk, and Hells, talk so much and so eloquently it makes me angry at how much it makes me want you.”

Gale shudders at his words, not moving an inch when Astarion starts unbuttoning his robes, slowly, dexterous fingers tracing his skin. He is beautiful, the lines on his skin as he frowns, his eyebags of not sleeping properly in who knows how long.

A hint of fangs shine behind his lips as he admires Gale's body, his chest hairy, rising and falling, the rhythm increasingly quickly because of how excited he feels, his breathing so intense he is afraid of passing out. A slender finger plays around the orb on his chest, and Astarion finally smiles a little, Gale's body reacting to his touch, the weave reacting to his touch.

"I'm afraid I am not sure of what will happen if you toy too much with it, Astarion."

Red eyes glint when the vampire's smile becomes more visible, playful, almost cheeky.

"We'll be careful, won't we, darling?"

He feels exposed in front of him, all of his fake pride gone, not flaunting anything anymore. He feels insecure, even if he knows how good his skills are, maybe because he does, and doesn't consider them nearly enough. Blame the tadpole, Astarion seems to notice.

"I like the Gale Dekarios I see. Not Gale of Waterdeep, not Mystra's chosen. Just you. She doesn’t get to define you, and neither does anyone but yourself."

Gale does smile a little at that.

"You are sweeter than you claim to be, Astarion."

The vampire scoffs at his words, as if they were the funniest joke in the world. Gale doesn't need an illithid to feel the bitterness coming out of him.

"I speak the truth, my star. You know I do. And your words, your feelings, are more than welcome. They may hurt, but I can discern good intentions when I see them."

Astarion does groan this time, no energy to sugarcoat it.

"Can you please shut-"

"I want to kiss you again, Astarion. And do whatever you are comfortable with. The only thing that worries me is that I will burden you with a rotten body, and a rotten purpose."

He feels that the words lose their original meaning, his pants still unceremoniously unbuttoned, his robes half open, long hair disheveled, a clear blush almost everywhere. It’s Astarion’s time to shudder, though, his expression intense when he gets closer again, Gale’s breath on his face, and he feels it in Astarion’s features, he thinks it’s nice, that it feels nice. Astarion’s breath is, of course, absent, an intense red color filtering through beautiful, white eyelashes. Knowing. Waiting.

“Come and get it, then. Show me how much you want it.”

Gale feels a tug from inside. Something in his chest that’s not his orb. Something down his abdomen that’s definitely his cock, still hard, against all odds. Still, he has to ask. He would never forgive himself otherwise. A small gesture towards Astarion’s comfort.

“Do you want it? Do you want everything my body, mind, and soul can offer you? Even after having briefly tasted me and felt how far gone my body is?”

Astarion doesn’t move, almost not blinking, so clearly undead that it should make Gale’s skin crawl, but it doesn’t. It really doesn’t, not when Astarion’s hand is nervously on his own, his lips still a treat to Gale’s eyes. He feels the word before it abandons Astarion’s lips, a half casted spell that Gale feels against his lips.

“Yes.”

He is sincere, the word engraved into Gale’s brain, making him tremble in anticipation. Gale’s warm hand is on the cold cheek, just keeping him in place as he moves, closing the distance between them with a shaky breath.

The Nine Hells be damned, Gale knows what he is doing, but Astarion almost has it engraved in his muscle memory. He gets lost in the sensation, something that makes Gale’s heart flutter, because Astarion may be used to sex, but he is not used to this. He is not used to the way Gale’s hands shake, slowly and desperately trying to get rid of the vampire's clothes, until Astarion helps, his hands more skilled at the matter.

With a decent amount of collaboration they manage to show themselves, unclad, under the myriad of stars.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re about to collapse…”

Gale nods, desperately, his lips letting out a soft moan when Astarion’s hands explore his body, every curve, the soft patches of hair. He shudders when a slender, cold hand is on his cock again stroking him softly, his mouth carefully biting Gale’s lower lip, dry blood on it that only seems to make Astarion even more eager.

“You won’t like whatever I can offer you, Astarion. Especially not you.”

Astarion huffs in frustration, a word in elvish that he doesn’t quite identify, but he doesn’t move when he is on the ground again, Astarion’s beautiful body shining under the artificial aurora Gale has created. Lots of small, little stars joining one of their kind, whose fangs slightly glint in a grin when Gale looks up at him, hands on his waist when Astarion straddles him with his legs.

“I wanna ride you. That’s what I would like to do.”

Gale’s throat is dry, eyes big and focused on Astarion’s face. There is no warmth on his skin, but that’s just another reason to keep him close. To try and remind him of when he was alive, before Cazador, before all of this madness. Warm hands move from Astarion’s waist to his chest, aware of the lack of heartbeat, still feeling in the tension of his muscles that he is, indeed, nervous. He caresses the scars on his back, and dexterous hands guide him downwards quickly, way too quickly. As if he didn’t want Gale to touch the words engraved into his back. He respects that, of course, his cock surely interested when Astarion’s hands guide his own towards his butt, and Gale blushes when the elf smiles knowingly.

“I assure you, my dear. Whatever your body and mind can offer me is more than welcome."

Gale isn't so sure about that, to be honest. Not about Astarion's… predisposition, but about his own body. Maybe if he manages to talk to Mystra one day… maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd forgive him, and grant him a body he doesn't deserve. Maybe.

Astarion brings him back to the present, far from possibilities, making him focus on what they are doing. A bottle of something Gale bought as soon as they got into the outskirts of Baldur's Gate floats in the air, courtesy of Astarion's invisible mage hand. He smirks at him, fangs showing slightly.

"Do you want to get me ready, or would you rather watch?"

Both choices seem impossible to Gale's own fragile mental health, to be completely honest. Still, the choice is obvious to him at the moment.

"If you do not mind… I would rather touch you myself. You might find that I have some… untapped skills."

He doesn't know how he manages to say that with a straight face, but Astarion's smile only gets wider. He believes him. He really does. He takes the small bottle from the mage hand, handing it to Gale carefully.

"I'm sure of that."

There is this thing about Astarion. About sexual matters, he always seems to be confident, experienced. Not a hair out of place, clearly a performance that has been honed for centuries. His façade breaks slightly when Gale's coated fingers caress his entrance, red eyes bigger, like a nervous animal. Prey, for once, and not a predator.

Gale is, still, very much not a predator, thank you very much.

"You know you can relax around me, Astarion. We can stop whenever you want."

Astarion's groan is supposed to convey frustration, but to Gale's ears is just yet another expression of fondness.

He feels tight and cold around his finger, eager and fed, having drunk from one of their enemies mere hours ago. He feels warmer when he is sated, Gale has noticed. More alive, also more sensitive. His soft sigh when Gale slowly fingers him is not performative, for it's not perfect, not calculated, not so beautiful for it to be irreal. He is sure that Astarion would blush if he could.

Gale likes it even more this way.

The way his red eyes shine when Gale looks up to kiss him are more than enough, though.

"Hurry up. I can take it, wizard."

Gale knows he can. He still doesn't rush it, arching his finger a little, his caress a little quicker, but not much. He kisses his lips, his chin, his sharp cheeks. Sadness fills him when he thinks about being unable to feed him, not in a way that matters. Meat and stew taste good, but do nothing to placate Astarion's hunger. He still eats, though, not saying a word about the taste, so Gale assumes he enjoys it. Astarion would never take anything less than what he deserves, after all. In that aspect, at least.

Gale is the living proof of the exception, after all. Why would he choose a human, with a rotten body, a damned future caused by the most damaging part of his ego?

"Wizard. Stop overthinking, or the gods help me…"

He doesn't even have to ask. Astarion rolls his eyes, as if it were obvious.

"You get a little frown when you think hard about something. It's not usually something happy, for what I know."

Gale sighs, teasing his entrance with another finger.

"I get lost in my mind way too often. For that, I apologize."

Astarion gasps as he enters him, slender legs shaking on Gale's lap.

What a sight…

"You're lucky you're kind of cute, Gale Dekarios. If you weren't, I might have stabbed you long, long ago."

Gale knows that he is joking. He also knows that it's not a coincidence that Astarion is saying that when he is feeling vulnerable, or that he is using his family name, and not the epithet Gale uses for himself. He has been since they met Tara, since Gale mentioned his mother.

"I am cute? You are gorgeous, my star."

Astarion's muscles tense around his fingers in response. He surely likes the praise, especially when it is sincere, when Gale is not just speaking about Astarion's good looks. For a second, Gale wonders about it, about those muscles tensing around him, tight and delicious, taking him eagerly. He blushes at the thought, and Astarion smiles, dashing and knowing.

"A copper piece for your thoughts?"

Gale mumbles something incoherent, burying his burning face in Astarion's shoulder, making him giggle.

"Nothing? That's a first… having rendered Gale Dekarios speechless…"

He doesn't get to tease him for long, because Gale actually gets to work, trying to focus on the task at hand. Which is both preparing and pleasuring Astarion until he feels ready to take him and… experience whatever doom is awaiting them when Gale fills him with his rotten seed and-

Astarion kisses his temple, and it does make Gale think, about how comfortable he seems to be with his new role, in which his lips are not a tool to prey on others, to lie and lie and keep lying until someone finally falls for his tricks. This, this soft caress, honest and without worry, suits him perfectly. Maybe, Gale himself suits him perfectly.

Maybe.

"I said no overthinking."

Gale smiles at him, brown eyes like melted chocolate, his motions slow but purposeful. Astarion trembles on his lap, his cock twitching in interest, and Gale tries his hardest not to just take him in his hand, no matter how much Astarion's eyes, drowning him in crimson intensity, are almost ordering him to.

"I would like for you to enjoy this longer, my star."

The petname seems to work, because Astarion begrudgingly, sighs, almost as if trying to relax. He frowns when Gale curls his fingers, carefully massaging his insides, fingers that were made for reading and handling powerful spells finding a sensitive spot, and Astarion does indeed make a sound. It's not dignified, or elegant, but it's natural, raw.

He guides him through the whole process. How he likes it, the intensity, the pressure, the pace. He murmurs it all, sweet instructions against Gale's lips, who follows them in between soft kisses, shuddering each time Astarion seems to especially enjoy something.

"You are a quick learner, wizard. Such a beautiful brain you have…"

Astarion is riling him up. He doesn't have to be smart to know. He is successfully doing it, and Gale hates himself for falling for it, weak and pathetic, panting against his smile, feeling his thighs tensing around him.

"Inside, Gale," he says in a low tone, demanding, almost a growl. "I want you inside."

Gale Dekarios is, well, currently untouched. He still trembles when Astarion speaks, a desperate sound leaving his lips. He feels pathetic, but Astarion's expression is unchanging. Honest, wanting.

"Shit," Gale enunciates eloquently when Astarion moves, making Gale miss him dearly when his fingers are no longer inside of him. Astarion takes the bottle of lubricant, manually, slowly coating Gale's cock with it, keeping eye contact. Which would be hell for Gale if not for the fact that he is currently mesmerized.

His orb pulses, the sound of electricity filling the air. Maybe this is the way he goes. Unable to keep himself under control, way too excited and reckless to think about the obvious. To have enough strength to care about the danger.

"You are not going to get hurt," Astarion assures him. "You are not going to hurt me either. Or anyone in camp."

"But-"

"You might be a self centered asshole sometimes, but you care about us. About yourself. About… about me."

Astarion may be unable to blush, but the way his tongue seems to twist and make him ponder about his words is maybe the closest thing he has.

"Deep down, you never wanted to off yourself. You just thought it was the only thing you could do. The right thing to do. Bullshit…"

Gale smiles at him, his hands on both sides of Astarion's face.

"Is that an insight… from self centered asshole to self centered asshole?"

Astarion chuckles at that, enamored.

"Oh he has some edge… I love that."

It's Astarion who guides Gale's cock towards his entrance, his experience still unmatched… which leaves Gale with a sour feeling. He shouldn't have had to deal with something like that. He deserved better. That's why he is trying to make everything beautiful, perfect for him.

"I can… I can do it all myself, if that helps you…"

Astarion gently rolls his eyes.

"Darling, I am indeed deeply grateful. But I want to do this. I want you to feel good, and I want to feel good with you. I do appreciate the pampering but… I'm fine, I swear."

Gale’s smile is nervous. Knowing what’s to come, knowing what to expect. His throat bobs slightly, gulping a little bit too loudly.

“If I understand correctly… that means that you want to pamper me, I am assuming?”

Astarion’s smile is devilishly sexy after he answers with a single word, but it’s not rehearsed, not so pretty it has to be unreal. It’s pretty, his fangs showing slightly, but it’s not too wide, not too flashy. There is a hint of nervousness in trembling lips, and Gale can only kiss them softly, feeling their cool touch that is starting to warm up to him.

His insides are not cold, but not warm either. Something is at work there, maybe that Astarion has fed recently, so his body is especially vigorous. He takes him slowly, almost like torture, and Gale has his hands on his hips, making sure that he doesn’t rush it. Astarion seems proud of himself when Gale lets out a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding, a little fanged smile that Gale makes sure to kiss yet again.

“Are you sure…” he tries to ask, nervous about his obvious problem, but Astarion is having none of it.

“Yes.”

“But-”

“Darling, you might be an incredible wizard. A wonderful man. But I’m pretty sure your cock lacks the skill to kill me, no matter how good of a cock it is.”

Gale’s face is flushed, both mortified and incredibly pleased. Trying not to let the compliment go too deep inside of his psyche. He can feel himself getting harder at it, and Astarion’s smile is amused, sinking himself more into him, making a sweet sound when the friction seems to be a little bit too good.

“Fuck… finally.”

Gale cannot say much in return, too overwhelmed by the sensation, not just the physical one. Astarion makes him lie down, the beautiful night sky above them. Pale skin reflects the light slightly, making Gale gasp in awe. The stars may be beautiful, but Astarion is the most gorgeous of them all.

“My star…” Gale manages to say, his voice strangled, before the vampire moves, hungry for him in a way that Gale hasn’t felt in decades. Before Mystra, before his own foolishness, before all this mess. Red eyes shine in recognition, in fondness, rocking his hips slowly.

He’s beautiful. That’s what he thinks as Astarion moves, his movements elegant. He thinks about him moving in the shadows, slicing an enemy without effort, his eyes hungry in a completely different way. He looks up at him, because he knows, he knows he might be doing this for him, and not for both of them, but his expression is not vacant. Astarion is there with him, moaning softly when Gale’s warm hands caress his thighs, tenderly, digging his fingers into his skin with both sweetness and lust.

“May I… may I touch you?”

Gale has to ask, wants to ask. Astarion confided in him, about his worries, his past, his relationship with sex. He won’t do anything Astarion is uncomfortable with, but it’s still refreshing to hear him chuckle, the gesture making his whole body tremble.

“Of course, my dear,” he murmurs, just a second after moving again, Gale’s hold on him tighter, moaning softly, a hand slowly moving towards Astarion’s erection. He takes him with no hesitation, sensing him tense, the eye contact making Gale’s insides burn. Astarion looks intense as he moves, as Gale pumps him, tight around each other, an exhalation escaping an undead mouth with effort. It is rewarding when he finally moans, and Gale just frowns, nodding slightly.

It’s funny, almost, how words elude him in that moment. He feels himself babbling at times, about Astarion, about how pretty he is, about how nice and sweet he is to him. It makes Astarion’s expression change, and Gale doesn’t feel any kind of disgust coming from him, if the tension around his cock is to be trusted. He has never been good at reading expressions, even less in this state of near climax.

That’s why it takes him by surprise, the way Astarion keeps moving, but gets closer to him, looking for his lips briefly before the kisses go down his chin, his throat. Gale is pretty sure the vampire is not going to bite him, given how revolting his blood is, but his lips are dangerously close to the Netherese orb.

Gale wants to warn him, to tell him he doesn’t know how volatile the orb might be, but he isn’t sure if Astarion would have listened nevertheless. His voice breaks when Astarion kisses it, tenderly, his face buried on Gale’s chest as he keeps rocking his lips.

If there was something to say, Gale isn’t sure he can find the words, his face so red he fears he might faint. He just moans, feeling the orb thrumming, Astarion’s own whimper making his sight blurry. His movements are erratic. He must be close, too.

“You wanted to keep this from me, wizard? You feel like electricity… Powerful and vigorous and…”

Gale wants to say something, anything.

“Astarion…”

“I love everything you have to offer. I love… I love everything…”

That’s a little bit too much for Gale’s heart to handle. He feels himself coming messily, with the strength of a sledgehammer, the orb dangerously close to losing its stability. He is, too, so he wouldn’t really blame it. The stars seem to flicker above them, and Gale doesn’t know how his concentration hasn’t broken or faded, after all. Astarion keeps moving, almost desperately, reaching his own orgasm shortly after, Gale’s hand erratic on him, but apparently still enough to make him figuratively or not, see the stars. He feels a smile against his chest, a small kiss on it afterwards, and Gale realizes, embarrassed, that there are tears on his face. He still kisses Astarion’s temple, both in relief and in gratitude.

“I stand… I stand corrected,” Astarion mutters, still kissing his skin. “That cock almost killed me, albeit not in the way you feared.”

Gale lets out a small chuckle, trying not to sniff too loudly. Still, he knows that there is something in the air. The orb seems to react to Astarion’s touch, even if weakly, as if drawing itself to him.

“Do you… do you feel the weave, like back when we practiced?”

Astarion nods, looking up at him, magic oozing from him, a faint purple glint in his eyes.

“If I compliment you too much, it’ll go over your head, so I’ll just say this. You may taste like hell, but this…”

Gale knows the feeling well. Completion, understanding. Fulfillness. He caresses Astarion’s face, feeling the magic under his fingertips.

“You are lovely. I know I might have said that already, but if you are not averse to-”

Astarion’s lips are on his own, trapping him between the vampire’s body and the ground. Drinking from him without draining him, just… sharing an experience. Connected in a way that makes sense to both of them.

“It feels good, to be like this with you.”

The netherese orb is like a curse, a punishment for his own hubris, but Astarion’s fingers circling it, his small kisses, almost make it all bearable. They both wear their marks, the weight of their past. Gale’s fingers ghost over Astarion’s scars as they kiss, not daring to touch them too much, not until it’s Astarion who guides him towards them, as if trying to repay his trust.

If Astarion realises that Gale is crying again, he says nothing about it. They just lie side by side, looking at stars that aren’t real, but that are proof of everything Gale wants to convey. Closer than they should be, even if the moment is technically over. Gale would love to cuddle a little more, but he doesn’t really want to push it and make him uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” he says instead, his warm eyes looking at him, at the beautiful start shining among hundreds of his kind. “For everything.”

Astarion doesn’t meet his gaze, still looking at the sky. At everything that Gale has created for him.

“You have been kind to me. That’s more than most people can say,” he offers as an explanation, but says nothing else.

Gale still notices how he gets closer to him, his head casually resting on Gale’s shoulder as he admires the sky. Gale, though? Bless the weave and its wonders, but in that moment, Gale can only keep looking at Astarion.

#my stuff #bloodweave #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #these hoziers kind of ship motherfuckers

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icee133 · 2 months

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This is part 5 of the Marionette Fic. Honestly I truly enjoyed writing this part probably the most so far. It made me laugh. Maybe stupidly so but still. Though there is a bit of a time skip. Some memory flashbacks fill in some of that time. Let me know what you think! Sorry for any writing errors 🤍🤍

If you would like to be added to taglist let me know!

The Marionette

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5🤍

Word count for this part: 1860. Enjoy!👻👻

Synapsis:

A new overlord has manifested in hell seemingly overnight. One that overpowered many if not all of the current overlords in all the right ways. Will this overlord use her powers for good to help the members of the hotel? Will she fall in love with a man and end up in a loving gentle relationship? Or will she get her heart broken and turn against them all, burning each bridge she meticulously made.

The Marionette is a heart wrenching fic with many turns you won't see coming. Stay tuned for each of the episodes as they are released.

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Now Nette would be lying if she said the thought of speaking with the radio demon didn’t ignite some kind of fight or flight in her chest. After all this is the guy who graciously wiped a few overlords of this plain of existence. However, Nette couldn’t help but also feel intrigued by the man.

Stepping into the kitchen she saw him standing, cane in hand, leaning against the kitchen island. Looking rather annoyed yet calm, despite the unsettling smile planted on his face like a tattoo. “Was there an issue Alastor?” “Of course not my dear, just wanted to meet you formally as I feel we didn’t get to do proper introductions earlier.” He said with a bite behind his smile. “Of course, well I’m called the marionette, but just Nette is fine for the time being.” “I do believe we’ve passed that point of introductions, I mean about yourself” Nette looked at him puzzled before saying “I’m afraid I don’t understand” Alastor's smile grew wider and his eyes glowed a bit more red “I suppose I’ll skip straight to the point then my dear, well I say you seem a bit out of place down here, almost as if you are in the wrong place.” “Perhaps that’s how you may see it, but I could say the same about you. Things aren’t always what they may seem to be.” “That is true, well I do hope we get along during the time you’ll be staying at the hotel little doe.” He said then disappeared into the shadows. Nette took a deep breath before walking slowly back into the main room ready to start discussing what all would be needed to move into the hotel without issue.

🩵🩵 Time Skip 🩵🩵

It had now been a few months since Nette and her 3 boys moved into the hotel. They were given room at the end of the hallway to keep them all together. Each of the boys had decorated their rooms- very excited to have their own rooms- and had unboxed just about everything they had brought with them. Unfortunately due to the circumstances at hand some items had to be left behind, though not without careful consideration (and a lot of bribery) at that. Nette had also set up her room, having the biggest room on the floor definitely came with its pros though. Like a bigger shower in her own room allowing for her to not have to use the giant communal shower -unless she wanted to of course- and make it easier for her to store her products in there as well.

Each of the boys had formed good relations with the members of the hotel. Despite continuing to bump heads with a certain red-haired overlord they seemed to fit in quite well, and they also started helping Charlie with ideas in the redeeming department. Though asking them might not always have been the best choice as their ideas were sometimes…well a bit over the top. Not to mention sometimes dangerous as well. Nette had settled in as well. Getting closer to Charlie and Vaggie, and going out with Angel and Cherri on occasion (Though it took quite a bit of time, and maybe a few drunken nights of karaoke she’d rather forget) To make any of it happen. Charlie had asked her for help with recruiting new sinners for the hotel and they had managed to drag in a few intricate ones (horny dumbass idiot ones as Kai would call them) who didn’t seem to really know what the hotel was about and thought it was a hookup bar and dropped their pants when they saw Angel. That went over swell (sarcasm) as Charlie covered her eyes and reminded them what the hotel was and had a few of them quickly pull their pants up and run out. On a separate occasion the hotel had thrown a welcome party for new sinners (surprisingly Vaggie’s idea) but that ended on a rather terrible note with some sinners thinking it was an ‘all you can fuck” kind of party once they saw Angel (seriously what was it with these people). Yeah that didn’t go well at all, they thought Nette was a new one of Val’s toys. Haha they almost died. Literally. She was not happy as one of the dumbasses tore her dress. Cue an embarrassing moment as Lucifer himself gave her his coat to cover the tear as Alastor’s weird shadow tentacle things threw the guy out. Ha what a great night. (sarcasm again -_- Though her boys thought it was hilarious as they hadn’t seen her face that red before). Of course Angel wouldn’t let her live that night down at all. She was so flustered at not only Lucifer jumping in to cover her, but also how easily that asshole tore her dress. With her standing there, looking right at him. The fucking nerve. She definitely slapped the shit out of him before Alastor threw him out though. Good memory- well that part at least. Lucifer also took her dress to a tailor for her - I know what a gentleman- and had them fix it as though it never happened. Anyway it’s been an eventful few months - good and bad, but hey it’s a part of life… well afterlife anyway. She felt that she had grown closer to them and truly felt that she could trust them. Each of their relationships taking on new territory. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Nette was snapped out of her day dreaming of memories while scrolling through her phone by Angel shouting and snapping in front of her “damn toots been callin ya for awhile now what’s got ya all mushy headed?” “Nothing much just thinking what’s up?” “Charlie wants us to do another trust exercise but I don’t know bout this one” Angel seemed a little weary about what was asked of them. “Why? What is the exercise about?” The look on his face had Nette a bit worried about what he was going to say. “Dirty secrets apparently, admitting things we did to ‘relieve some held up regret’ as Charlie put it” “ah yeah no I’m gonna sit this one out” “nope if I gotta do it you gotta do it too toots so cmon we don’t have all day get in ere” “fine alright geez”. Nette and Angel walked into the parlor area where a small stage had been set up. Looking around Nette saw only her, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Cherri, husk, and Lucifer. Wait…Lucifer. Why was he here? Well it was his daughter's hotel. Think rationally Nette duh obviously. Nette snapped her head back to the stage as she heard Charlie begin talking “thank you all for coming today. I wanted to do this exercise with you guys as I feel it’s a good way for us to get a bit closer with one another. I want us to talk about something we've been holding a lot of guilt over, so that maybe speaking it out loud can help us let go of it even if just a little.” “Alright, who wants to go first?” Vaggie said expectantly. Yeah no not me. I’m not saying shit. Negative uh uh. No ma’am. Nette thought to herself. Dirty secrets my ass this is straight up admitting something we did that we thought was bad, is this a roundabout way of asking us what our sin was that caused us to end up down here? “Nette how about you go first” Cherri said snickering. “Haha Cherri no thanks” she quickly declined. “I think that’s a great idea!” Charlie seemed overjoyed at the idea of the overlord participating. Nette couldn’t help but feel pressured. Something she regrets. Well there was a lot she didn’t want to tell them. A lot they shouldn’t know. Things that would possibly ruin the way they saw her. She didn't know what to think. It had been awhile before she had tried to remember anything that brought her guilt. The memories of such things she pushed down as deep as they could go. Placing large walls and barricades around it to hide it from not only those around her but also herself. But the look on Charlie's face, one of hope and happiness drove her to want to free this guilt even if only for a moment. “FINE” she said before walking toward the stage. “Don’t expect any mushy shit” she said walking up the stairs.”Of course not, just something you regret” Charlie was smiling at the overlord. “Something I regret…” she paused thinking to herself. “I regret… honestly I don’t know" “it’s okay to think about it for a bit” Angel said.

Nette paused thinking to herself, slowly she looked up, unironically making eye contact with Lucifer who held a look on his face she couldn't read, then she quickly looked back down before deciding it’s better to be honest then hold onto it. She felt that she could trust them, and that if anyone was going to be judgemental about this kind of thing she most likely wouldn’t find that person in this group. “maybe…” she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing “thinking so little of a person I cared about, watching them wander aimlessly trying to be what they were told to. Trying to prove themselves to… him. The whole time knowing I had the power to move everything in the right direction. Knowing that I could have helped them if I had only cared- or hell… even tried. If I had only been there when they needed me most I could have done something. But instead I turned away from them. Told them to worry about themselves and not me, that they had no right to even worry about me considering who they were. What they were. Them telling me I was headed in the wrong direction, and me yelling back… telling them I couldn’t do that. Then dying in their arms with their last words being ‘I was right’ definitely sealed the deal. Or I guess sealed my fate is a better way to put it. I think my deepest regret lies in me letting so many…people down. Letting them see me fail at the only thing I was supposed to do. Failing at the one thing I was made for. I don’t think that regret will ever leave me and I’d even go as far as to say I deserve it.” Nette hadn’t realized she closed her eyes completely, or that she had let a few tears fall. In saying it all she hadn’t realized the group moved towards her. Or that Angel and Cherri were hugging her. She tried to take a breath but found it getting caught in her throat. This was something she had held onto for far longer than anyone could imagine. Letting it out felt nice but she knew it wouldn’t make the pain of this regret go away. The heavy feeling that weighed on her heart knowing, remembering, seeing the pain in their faces. The hurt in their voices when all was said and done. Was something she would never forget. Never.

Taglist:

@popamolly @preciousbabypeter

#hazbin hotel #alastor #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin alastor #hazbin husker #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #huskerdust #marionette

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battlekidx2 · 2 years

Text

Thanks to Them Thoughts

The first special of The Owl House’s third season recently dropped and I can say with full certainty that it hasn’t lost what made the second season so special.

I don’t think I’m in the minority when I say I was disappointed that the third season got shortened to three specials but I wanted to come in hopeful for what these specials could bring. The Owl House proved to me in its second season just how phenomenal it could be within a limited time frame with episodes like Eda’s Requiem, Knock Knock Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door, and Hollow Mind. I know that the situation is different but it’s proof just how much this show knows how to tap into the emotional core of its characters, stories, and relationships in 22 minutes.

This episode does the same thing by digging into the core of Camila, Luz, and Hunter.

Camila is a character that had the fandom split and in my opinion received way too much hate. She was a single mother doing her best with a specific set of struggles due to the point she was in her life and the circumstances surrounding the start of the series. This episode understands that Camila loves her daughter and wants to do right by her but parenting rarely has a perfect answer.

Camila’s choices are given more context and shown in a different light. I was already in the camp that believed Camila was a loving parent that made some mistakes because she’s only human, but this episode solidified it.

The nightmare Camila has about halfway through the episode is a poignant way to explore the concept of generational trauma and trying to break that cycle.

Luz found a community that will accept her the way she is and a place where her strengths can flourish. Once Camila has had time to grapple with the reality that Luz went to the demon realm by her own choice and she gets to see just how good this place has been for her she embraces it.

She even wants to go to the demon realm with Luz so she can be a part of that aspect of Luz’s life as well (and look out for her daughter in a very dangerous situation). It’s just a really touching portrayal of motherhood.

That’s actually the part I’m the most upset we missed out on due to the shortened season. Seeing Camila be a supportive mother to Luz and give Amity and Hunter their first real experience with a caring parent is something I would have loved to see considering how much their abusive/complicated home lives we’ve gotten to explore over the show. (I specify Amity and Hunter because we know that Gus and Willow have loving home lives. I would still love to see Camila be a parental figure to them too)

We still have some more time. I’m hoping we’ll get to see more of surrogate mother Camila over the next two specials.

Hunter especially needs that care because he cannot catch a break.

Season 2 and now season 3 has been one long trauma conga line for Hunter with so much of that trauma being born from his twisted relationship with Belos.

Hunter being possessed by Belos is a very fascinating turn of events that foreshadows so many possibilities with Belos but there is one area I think could have been handled better.

I want to touch on the scene where Hunter stood up to Belos first. This has been a long time coming. Hunter has submitted to Belos’ ideas for his future for most of his life and even after leaving the emperor’s coven he didn’t get the chance to have a confrontation with Belos where he was given the time to address this area of growth.

Hunter finally has the chance to choose his destiny which is something he stated he was jealous Luz could do back in Hunting Palismen. Due to his journey in the human realm he has the self worth and the security to stand up to Belos for the first time in his life and it was a powerful scene because of the build up.

Hunter has gained so much that he has lacked all his life due to his time away from Belos and in the human realm. It makes this moment and his sacrifice hit all the harder because of how far this episode shows he’s come.

He has a family

He likes who he sees in the mirror

He has friends who value him for who he is and not what he can do

He can take part in his hobbies and indulge his interests

He no longer needs Belos like Belos tried to make him believe. He can finally be the person he was always meant to be.

Hunter is brave, caring, and kind. No matter what Belos did or said to him he never lost those qualities. He is willing to stand up to Belos and possibly sacrifice himself to protect everything he has come to love. He has people that will extend that same care and compassion towards him.

This brings us to one of the saddest moments in the episode: Flapjack’s sacrifice.

Hunter has gone through so much and Flapjack’s sacrifice hits especially hard because Flapjack was one of the first people Hunter could rely on and probably even call a friend.

Flapjack was important for Hunter’s development in more ways than one. He provided him with a confidant when he didn’t have anyone else and it helped him question and re-evaluate Belos’ actions in regards to palismen and wild magic. He also met him because of his first real encounter with Luz.

It all comes full circle. He initially protected Flapjack from Belos because he knew Belos would use him as fuel/a life source but now Flapjack is willingly being exactly that for Hunter. He is now a part of Hunter. It’s a very bittersweet ending to their relationship that shows the growth and care that they each had for each other.

That moment where Hunter stops in front of the portal and holds his hand over his heart was a short but very effective moment at conveying his grief.

This sacrifice was very well executed in my opinion.

All of this works emotionally within Hunter’s character arc.

However, the battle didn’t quite reach its full potential. It had incredibly fluid animation and was amazing to watch, but it wasn’t as emotional on Amity, Gus, and Willow’s end as it could have been in certain ways.

You could feel the conflict and pain from Luz’s end. It was made clear that she was purposefully not trying because she didn’t want to hurt Hunter and even hugged him to try and get through to him. She doesn’t want to hurt him because of how much she has come to care for him and this turmoil could be seen in every action Luz took and could be felt in her voice acting performance.

She’s the only one you could understand the full grasp of her conflict over the fight with Hunter though. There wasn’t any of that same hesitation or desperation on anyone else’s end. You know that all of them are close to Hunter and care about him but you don’t feel the full depth until after the fight.

These connections are really important to Hunter’s character because of how Belos isolated him prior to season 2 and I loved all the moments that showcased how important Hunter is to the group and vice versa. That’s why I decided to point out the lack of hesitation on everyone else’s part. It doesn’t break the episode (in fact the episode is great) but I thought it could have been executed a bit differently.

Hunter is one of the strongest characters in the show and the way this episode handled him was great.

This brings me to Luz.

King’s Tide had real consequences for Luz. She feels like she couldn’t protect Eda or King and she couldn’t stop Belos or the Collector. She doesn’t know the fate of the family she left behind and she believes that everything that happened is her fault.

She’s understandably not handling it well.

Luz this episode and in a few episodes last season is used to explore grief and loss. This is explored in more ways than one through the loss of her father and her newfound family in the Boiling Isles.

Luz’s father was noticeably absent in her life at the start of the series but what happened to him wasn’t revealed until “Reaching Out” (In a fantastic scene by the way). We get even more expansion on it through Luz’s video diary entries.

Luz was much more aware of what was happening with her family and father than she let on to her mother despite their best efforts to shield her. The way you can see the decline in her emotional state through her entries as her father’s health declines makes the process feel real. This wasn’t a quick but a slow process/struggle for the family over time until he unfortunately passed. It’s something that Camila and Luz are still struggling with.

The process of healing isn’t linear for any of the characters.

It also reveals that Manny introduced Luz to the Good Witch Azura. This is really bittersweet and touches on something that this episode emphasized and that is how media and stories can help us process, heal, and feel seen in aspects of life that people struggle with.

Hunter finds connection and healing through the Cosmic Frontier character O’Bailey. Luz finds that same connection and escape through Azura. It helped her during a really hard time in her life by helping her find a connection to her father after he was gone.

It makes everything in regards to her Good Witch Azura book and hyperfixation very bittersweet and puts so much in a new light. It’s a brief but powerful moment in the episode.

The exploration of Luz’s grief in the present day is handled just as well as that short segment. It shows the repercussions on her mental health and how it trickles out in unexpected ways like her rant in class.

But most importantly it shows how her support system understands that she’s struggling and they are there for her no matter what. They might not all know how to best handle what she is dealing with but they all give it their best and make sure they let her know that they don’t think of her as a burden.

One of my favorite moments showcasing this in the episode is when Amity lets Luz know that Belos meeting the collector because of her help isn’t a failing on her part. It doesn't make her a mistake or the harbinger of doom she believes she is. She assures Luz it’s a testament to her good heart instead.

Luz’s support system doesn’t automatically make her better either. The Owl House understands there is no quick fix to depression and other mental health issues. There is no list of requirements to check off to “cure” it. It’s something that is dealt with on a daily basis.

Dealing with mental health isn’t linear just like dealing with grief isn’t linear.

I am really intrigued to see how they handle Luz’s struggles moving forward and believe that they were handled with a lot of tact in this premiere.

This show has really come into its own. Season one was fun and had a great world and characters that drew you in but lacked a strong vision of where it wanted to go with wonky power scaling, an inconsistent level of control and influence from Belos that changed to suit the episode, and parts of the story that clashed with its core themes. I loved the season but thought there was missed potential.

Season two came around and reached the heights I thought it was capable of and it seems like season 3 plans to do the exact same. I can’t wait for the final two episodes. If this is any indication of their quality I bet they will be amazing.

Extra thoughts

I love when Camila lets Luz sleep with her after she’s awoken from her nightmare. It’s just a really sweet mother-daughter moment.

I really liked Hunter’s cosplay and how his attachment to the character of O’Bailey speaks to the importance of representation and how it can help you heal and feel seen.

Gus definitely knows that Hunter is a Grimwalker. He purposefully introduced Hunter to a character that he could connect to and even tried to imply that he knew before Hunter covered his ears to avoid spoilers. I really appreciate their dynamic in the smaller moments of this episode.

I said it in my Hollow Mind thoughts but I’m going to say it again here: I think that Evelyn was a Calwthorne. There’s just too many clues in the show for her not to be and the Owl House has a pretty good track record of paying off obvious hints.

The best thing about this episode is how it carries over the consequences of King’s Tide. There are a few times where the tension the characters should feel to get back to the Boiling Isles gets a bit lost. The most notable example was how solving the clue they found to get them back to the isles was framed more as a way to cheer Luz up than a way to return to their families and know if they are okay.

Yeah, the characters are sad to be away from their families but there isn’t the desperation to know about their fates that would be expected considering what happened with the day of unity and the collector. I like how this plot point was used in regards to Hunter and Luz but thought it was a bit lacking in execution and development when it comes to Amity, Willow, and Gus.

Amity, Willow, and Gus are unfortunately the ones that suffer from this section of the season being shortened. They are fun and engaging supporting characters but they noticeably don’t get the emotional focus or development that Luz, Hunter, and Camila get. I don’t dislike the choice, in fact, I think it was a smart choice to narrow the scope of the episode because it would likely become bloated and lack the strong focus and emotional core that it has.

It’s just unfortunate because Willow and Gus are not as well explored as Amity, Luz, and Hunter. Gus at least has “Labyrinth Runners” as an episode focused on him and a few episode B plots but Willow doesn’t really have her own spotlight episode. Both of her episodes “Understanding Willow” and “Any Sport in a Storm” are actually Amity and Hunter episodes respectively.

I would just like to see a bit more of Willow explored.

This is the first time Hunter has really cried in the show. He’s teared up before but never allowed himself to fully cry. It’s telling that the moment that gets to him the most, that makes him drop those walls and breaks the dam, is when Luz calls him family. It’s not traumatic or violent. It’s quiet and tender. He’s never had a family (something he mentions in Hunting Palismen) and now he does. Earth really did allow Hunter to come into his own and gain so much that he lacked all his life.

I absolutely adore all the end credits art. Most of it is just so wholesome with my favorites being Luz teaching Camila glyphs (Camila is really committed to learning from Luz) and Flapjack tucking in Hunter (this is just so bittersweet).

#the owl house #toh #lumity #hunter #amity blight #luz noceda #camila noceda #belos #willow park #gus porter #I love this show #thanks to them

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sounknownvoid · 10 months

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How about sam owning his power?

Yes, another random too late at night on our boy sammy! - he just wont leave me alone!... :)

Thing that strikes me about spn and the dynamics bw sam n dean is the power imbalance - and theres multiple kinds at play and im sure ill screw it up in laying out all the layers i see in my head out here but here goes:

Theres initially the little bro v big bro power imbalance - in favour of dean - but theres also the perceived (by dean) power imbalance in favour of sam as he thinks dad only cares about sams safety and + his own love for sam makes him think sams got him wrapped around his finger - thing is, the fact that deans willing to do anything for sam is not necessarily sams doing but it scares dean that sam has that effect on him.....never understanding that he has the same hold on sam.

Then, as they get older, deans faster,stronger,better at hunting,fighting and gets all the parise from dad as a result while sam is the "runt" - scrawny & reluctant (and probably part of his reluctance to join hunting family business is that teenage-attitude of "ah well, im never gonna be better than dean or dad, why bother?") So he doesnt try harder than he has to, to get by ....so the physical power balance for a long time is also with dean growing up...and it suits dean just fine - after all, who doesnt like being "adored big brother" ?...but also given deans fear of sams emotional power over him, & sams intellectual prowess that dean already starts to see in him, dean revels in his physical skills and it makes him feel indulgent and sorta ok with caring for and about his sammy and in his mind balances the scales that sams adoration of him for his skills n physical powers somehow negates the emotional hold of sam on him...& so the scales remain balanced sorta...

A bit older again and sam starts to physically shoot up and he seems to pick things up quicker, is braver than dean at standing up for himself (&im sure on behalf of dean too, sometimes) more n more with dad and theres that damn intellect and that emotional hold on dean already...the scales far as dean can see is tipping slowly away from him....and then sam is (whether due to weecest/wincest feelings developing or just normal teenage angst doesnt matter here) pulling away in teenage fashion: more n more away from dean too so now dean feels like hes left feeling the brunt of that emotional pull more n more (again because theres wincest elements on deans part or not is irrelevant here - its just the emotional gap created when the person you're so closely attached to since childhood pulls away - but this is probably felt even more intensely by dean coz of the hunting lifestyle n lack of other human connections) - leaving dean feeling vulnerable af - which hed hate....and resent sam for .... & would see it as sam holding all the power - even if it may not objectively be true or even something sam is aware of....remember, he's just a kid - drawing boundaries n learning about himself as he grows....

Stanford being the 1st big decision sam makes on his own, asserting his independence - is a blow to dean -to him, thats sam exercising that power of his and being selfish and uncaring of impact on dean - after all, dean had to give up his life,his dreams for sam n his dad - why isnt sam doing the same?... and all the resentments at not just him being the only one to make sacrifices in the family but also of this growing power imbalance towards sam kicks in....and he hates it - he hates that sam doesnt need him anymore, is off making his own decisions, hes likely to be off creating and living his own life pretty soon - & wheres dean then?

As s1,s2 progresses, we see more n more sam being pushed into giving up his power, his independence more n more in favour of dean - not just by circumstances and hell/heaven conspiracy but also emotionally/mentally by people he loves the most - dad, bobby, dean...because the choice for him is "its either our love and acceptance or your own power" & ofc he chooses "family" & " love & acceptance" - cloaked in shame,guilt and humiliation.... theres no thought given by his "loved ones" to " how could we help understand sam's powers and help him manage it", train it or anything remotely positive - its instantly :sam has powers = sam is bad - why? - because he's now 6'4, strong physically,mentally and his only vulnerability is his love for his family: dean mostly at that stage... & they even mention munchausens syndrome by proxy in one of the episode - coz thats basically whats being done to him - hes being made to believe that his powers are inherently evil and therefore he's sick and he "needs" dean to deal with it...and terrified & in absence of any support,ofc he does, he does need dean to deal with it/with himself - slowly eroding his trust in himself... not blaming dean here - as to him its his own "life or death" + identity crisis situation - if hes not looking after sammy, who is he, what does he do with his life? (that "african root-induced dream walker in bobbys/deans head" episode makes it pretty explicit)...

S3/4 - hes had a bit of time on his own & hes found a "teacher" - ruby....thing is, he wouldnt have been that vulnerable to ruby to begin with, if hed received even a tiny bit of guidance n care n understanding of how to manage/control his powers ... so ofc, at his lowest he succumbs to anyone offerring him any kind of guidance or control over himself, coz hes already been conditioned to not trust himself - and why shouldnt he take it from a demon - isnt he already been called evil freak by his own? ...he might as well ...

To dean on his return this is worst case: sammy having his own power and his powers....again wincesty lens might add other layers but for this essay(sorry)!: 1xof the factors influencing deans reactions have to be also the power imbalance tipping towards sam again( he even says in one episide all huffy "well you dont need me, you & ruby can hunt demons on your own" whil packing his duffel) - yes theres jealousy n care that his bro is being manipulated by a demon and his own hell trauma etc,etc....but - lets not forget that hes also feeling that sense of loss of control n power over sam specifically...and so ruby is not the only one manipulating sam in this season...and love is not an excuse for manipulation....and dean is not immune to using it to get what he wants - ie sam (wincest or not doesnt matter here either - outcome is still the same that dean wants).

From s4 to almost upto s10 its a steady degradation of sam and loss of him owning his own power,his body,his self,his personhood.... and each time he tries to reclaim it, hes emotiinally beaten up into giving it up again - so that he can be loved - he is pretty much a "batterred wife" at that point, having given up his power to dean (&lucifer&gadreel via dean &...) - until he starts to fully reclaim again s11 onwards - but in a way thats much more "acceptable" to dean.... hearing words he says to charlie or to mary or to sully about how hes accepted that this is his life now and he loves it - this is somehow supposed to show sams "maturity" in acceptance of his respinsibilities in hunting n saving people etc ... but to me, its not really if you've been watching - its him being a "batterred wife", trading his power for love n acceptance... because he knows that dean will never fully accept sam in his full power....he cant as hes too scared of what he doesnt understand (incl himself). Again wincest lens would amp all of this to intensityx10...

It is these experiences that he then uses to help guide and care for young kids that cross his path showing abilities - incl jack.

If theres ever a reboot i hope its this - i hope its with a sam that starts to see visions n telekinesis etc and he gets support n kindness and understanding & faith in him - while he figures out his training himself - itd be amazing if its dean who "comes around" - hell id even settle for a dean that "comes around" in midst of "when levee breaks" and they run off and hole up somewhere n get sam his rest n care from dean and then training for him.....n they stop the apocalypse together but with sam having his full powers n dean proudly supporting him and himself being powerful in his own right... so that i can believe that its possible to be powerful n strong in your own right and still be loving and kind and caring and loved n accepted in return...

I'll stop here with that beautiful image in my head to help me sleep n not cry over how they did sammy anymore... :) ...not sure any of it made sense, sorry ... n thanks for reading?..

#Sam winchester #Sam n dean power imbalance #Sam was a jedi without his yoda and darth got him for for 180 years #Sam was harry potter permanently stuck under that staircase & no hogwarts #Sam needed dean - just not how dean wanted #Ill write another thing with dean at some point i promise #Im a sammy girl if not obvious but can appreciate character arc of dean too #Sorry too long #Sorry for typos

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theheirofthesharingan · 1 year

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Hello!

I notice you analyze Itachi very well in my opinion. So I was just curious to think what would have helped Itachi have a second chance? In a AU where he was given the chance to, or if he allow himself to heal. Since I though how Sasuke was able to be forgiven and found his way back home, Nagato was able to get a second chance from Naruto by doing a good act, Obito as well. So I wonder if Itachi had the same opportunity or what would it take in a AU since maybe in canon he would turn down every though of help and healing, although he admits in Edo that he failed. So it makes me curious to think how he would turn things around or if he is able to get a second chance. But what you think that would look like for Itachi? In canon events or if the UCM never happened.

Hi, there! Thank you so much. :)

Since you asked about two scenarios where massacre happens and in another where it doesn't, I'll try to answer them separately.

So, what if the massacre did not happen?

It depends at what point the coup is thwarted. Most probably the trigger would be Shisui's death, which forces Hiruzen to show some spine. Since Itachi is talented and a prodigy, he would continue to be the exceptional Shinobi to the Leaf and an asset to them. And if Konoha is kind enough, Hiruzen would declare him as his successor for the next Hokage. Taking the Itachi Shinden novels into account since they mention he wanted to be the Hokage, to end wars and establish peace. He'd make a great one, because he's very much capable of taking hard decisions, is against the idea of child soldiers, values both land and the people, and wants peace. He'd be the one carrying Hashirama's ideals of peace further. Basically, the series would be known as Itachi Shippuden.

This part doesn't need Itachi to heal the way the other one does because he can survive this much stress and can channelize his previous loss to make the world a better place.

Now, since the massacre has happened..

He blames himself for this. Obviously. For him to find peace and happiness in canon is impossible, because his guilt is the driving force for all the extremes he goes to ensure he's killed and remembered as a villain. However, since you asked what it would take for him to accept help and healing in an AU. It would very much be Sasuke. If Sasuke finds out the truth before their battle, he would go out of his way to ascertain his brother finds healing and justice.

Sasuke is Itachi's strength as well as his biggest weakness. I'm sure Sasuke would exploit that trait by himself once he realizes what can really trigger Itachi into giving in. No way Sasuke is letting Itachi rot and die like that.

I won't compare Itachi's circumstances with Nagato or Obito because they both willingly committed crimes because of their personal losses. Itachi is self-aware and knows his flaws and isn't proud of them. He doesn't need to be forgiven because he was deliberately placed in the circumstances where he had to make the choices that he did - one of the two evils. He needs healing and peace and an apology from the Leaf, not the other way round. His soul is damaged quite literally. The only one who can help him out of the darkness is Sasuke.

Itachi would need to understand that while he had a hand in the massacre, the blame lies on the government for its incompetence, and that he is a victim too. He needs to understand he's a human, not a tool he was made out to be since his childhood. He's allowed to feel things other than guilt and regret and pain. It might take years, but with Sasuke and some purpose in his life, he might be able to come to terms with it. It would be a rocky road for him because his stubbornness is his one flaw that would come in the way of his journey of healing.

_____

On a lighter note, if I'm allowed to take more liberty with the AU, I'll send him over to the Undying Lands in Tolkien's world. That is the only place he can truly find peace. And he'd be one of the mortals who would be accepted there. Thanks to Sasuke's love for him, he'd be able to go there too when Sasuke is old enough and free from the burden of protecting the world. And both the brothers can spend their final days in peace together.

#itachi uchiha #itachi #uchiha itachi #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #naruto shippuden #naruto #ask #anon <3

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scramble-crossing · 10 months

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17 and 19

17. Character you think had the best arc

Sort of Rindo, sort of Shoka

Shoka's arc is probably the best-written in the game. She's given the most backstory out of all of the new characters, and with the main antagonists of the game being her own once happy, now crumbling family, the whole narrative is perfectly suited to fleshing out her individual storyline. There's a lot of room to develop her and the writers definitely made the most of it. It's just not my personal favourite. Shoka's a good character and all, but she didn't really click for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I think Rindo's arc is pretty decisive in the fanbase? Some people think it was done well, others think it pales in comparison to Neku's. Personally I think that subtlety in a character's arc is a good thing (I say subtlety lightly, Rindo's deal becomes pretty obvious if you're paying attention in the right places) but it's not really in the twewy spirit. Neku set a standard of heavily flawed protagonists with very clear deficits of character to the point of starting off as flat-out unlikable, and while early Rindo does teeter towards this, it feels like the writers didn't commit to it entierly. Or didn't want to. Or couldn't.

One of Rindo's biggest problems is that the medium he's in can be counterintuitive to what his arc is trying to achieve. Rindo is supposed to be a weak-willed, indecisive train wreck who constantly hoists responsibility onto others so that he can avoid the consequences of having made the wrong decision. And while this does come across, it's hampered by the fact that as the player character, you are constantly taking control of and making decisions for him. He starts to feel less like the kind of person who's incapable of making a choice, and more like someone who can and will when it really comes down to it.

I dont think his arc is bad or especially unclear. I think it can be easy to forget what his deal is supposed to be when from the player's perspective, he's been in control this whole time, even when the narrative is trying its best to tell you that this isn't the case. You've gotta look just a teensy tiny bit closer into what he's thinking and saying over what you're leading him to do.

It also doesn't help that the most obvious instances of him being indecisive or having lingering doubts are entierly reasonable. For example, it is a huge decision whether or not to trust a rival team leader who's survival depends on your demise. Really, it starts to feel more like Rindo is being understandably cautious and Fret is the one at fault for pushing him to make a quick decision based at least in part on his crush. He's not at all impartial, and Rindo doesn't push it down to the wire enough for it to be a major issue.

Also!!! The absolute biggest issue I take with Rindo's arc is that he never abuses his Replay in a way that would've made sense for an arc centered around avoiding responsibility. He's pretty much always forced to use it during situations that are out of his control because they could've only been avoided with information that he didn't have at the time. So much of the Soul Pulvis generated isn't Rindo's fault at all. It's Nagi's for exploding him with her mind or Minamimoto's for withholding his help (twice!) with the express purpose of triggering a Replay, or its because he and the others were held up by completely unforeseeable circumstances caused by Noise or other Players. Had Rindo been forced to use Replay for situations he undeniably caused because of his inability to make a decision, or even better, if he'd started to make decisions apathetically knowing that he can just go back and fix it if it didn't work out, I think his arc could've absolutely shone and even rivaled Neku's, as iconic as it was.

This has become a whole essay now and I'm sorry. The TLDR is that Rindo's arc is good, but it definitely has its faults. Some are on the part of the writers, but some are unavoidable based on the fact that he's the player character and is going to be subject to some projection that might make him appear to be more of a leader than he was in the early days of the game. It could've been better, but it's definitely not as bad as some people make it out to be.

19. Overall, do you prefer the first game's cast or Neo's?

In retrospect the second game is filled with so many recurring characters that this is a hard question to answer. Plus there was pretty even focus on the Reapers vs the Players whereas the first game was pretty solidly concerned with the core Hachiko Gang, and every other character was designed with the intent of contrasting with them in some regard (Konishi and Beat's whole mind vs the heart deal for example). It's kind of an unfair comparison since both games set out to accomplish different and not necessarily better or worse things with their casts, but in general I've got a bigger soft spot for twew1's cast over neo's. I like the Shibuya Reapers a lot. I'm literally writing a whole collection of drabbles about them being friends. It's some kind of brainworm idk

#I need to stop talking now I think #ask

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professormembranexreader · 2 years

Text

Vampire! Membrane x Fem! Reader (Headcanons)

So my bf broke up with me. So I had to completely redo what I had planned with this.

We’re still friends, and maybe I’ll do this the way I intended eventually, but who knows.

Anyways onto the story.

- You were being chased by a guy who wanted to do… things… with you.

- Obviously you want no part since you 1. Don’t know him. 2. Aren’t attracted to him.

- You were running for the hills when it started storming. With the sparse moonlight due to the clouds, you became completely lost.

- All you could fall back on was a legend – where the town’s most famous patron of the sciences resided.

- It was said that it was somewhere in the woods, but no one knew exactly where.

- But you had no other choice but to hope that you were fortunate enough to stumble upon it.

- You were pretty sure you lost your suitor, but you kept running, just in case.

- Soon enough you came upon a large metal gate. Was this it?

- You quickly scaled the fence. Hopefully the owner would understand, given the circumstances.

- You climbed over the side, carefully avoiding the spikes on the top. But despite your best efforts, your nightgown was torn.

- You hurried around the ornate fountain, rushing to the door of the equally ornate mansion.

- You politely knocked, but the door simply swung open.

- You gingerly walked inside the mansion, waiting for someone to yell about an intruder, but nothing came.

- You took another step away from the entrance, and the door slammed behind you. The candles lining the walls proceeded to illuminate the room.

- For a moment, you were worried. After all, it seemed like magic.

- But upon closer inspection, they were simply wired to light sequentially.

- Your curiosity ignited, causing you to begin exploring the mansion for any other exciting things.

- You found the dining room, a small room with two chairs — one was dusty; the other pristine.

- “Who only cleans one chair?” You thought out loud.

- You moved on from room to room until you got to the library

- You picked up a book about something that sounded interesting.

- You were so engrossed in reading that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you.

- A hand touched your shoulder.

- You whipped around and hit your opponent in the face with the book.

- “AGH! ¡Dios mío, eso dolió!”

- You instantly dropped the book and put your hands over your mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so so so sorry-“ You rushed over to him. “Are you okay?”

- He held his face, and balanced himself on the bookcase next to him. It was then that you actually got a good look at the man you just attacked.

- He was mostly obscured by a black cloak with red lining. But the parts of him that were visible gave him a wealthy, regal vibe.

- He was hunched over, but even still, you could tell he was extraordinarily tall.

- As your eyes glanced down, you fixated on what looked to be a rapier in a golden sheath. The handle was also gilded, and it made you wonder if the blade was as well.

- It only processed moments later, that he was armed. You were trespassing. This was a problem.

- Your hands became clammy, your mouth dried up, and your eyes were wide — transfixed on the sword in its sheath.

- He followed your gaze and tilted his head. It was then that he put two and two together.

- He rested his hands on your shoulders, whispering, “cálmate” over and over.

- You couldn’t really understand what that meant, but you heard calm in there somewhere, so it was a safe bet that he didn’t want to hurt you.

- Once you were no longer panicking, he stood up straight and cleared his throat.

- “Do you speak English? ¿O hablas español?”

- “Um. I’d rather speak English,” you said, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

- “Very well. Follow me.”

- He led you deeper into the library, eventually coming to a fireplace with two wingback chairs. He took a seat and motioned for you to sit down as well.

- You cautiously sat down, feeling extremely self conscious in your nightgown.

- “So tell me, why are you here?”

- “What do you mean?”

- “Why have you decided to trespass into my mansion and assault me with a book from my own library?”

- You gulped and looked away. “I didn’t mean to hit you, you just scared me. As for why I’m here, I needed shelter. It’s storming outside after all…”

- “But why would you be out in the forest, in the middle of a storm, in a nightgown?”

- Shit.

- You told him the events leading up to you entering the mansion, and he progressively got more and more intimidating as you went on.

- You eventually trailed off because he was staring daggers into your eyes.

- He reached out and took your hand, still staring deep into your eyes. “Do you wish for me to take care of this?”

- You stared back into his eyes and asked, “What would you do?”

- He pulled down his high collar and grinned.

- “Whatever you wish to happen, my dear.”

- He then kissed your hand.

- You could’ve sworn you felt sharp teeth graze your skin.

- But you couldn’t help but blush.

- Here was a man who lived alone in the woods, was attacked by a stranger, and now wanted to help protect them.

- You sort of wanted to stay with him.

- He offered to let you stay the night whilst he took care of the problem you faced.

- You graciously accepted the invitation.

- You were assigned a room in his mansion and waiting desperately for him to return.

- You didn’t know why, but you missed him.

- But eventually you heard heavy footsteps lead up to your door. You immediately stood up and walked to the door.

- You heard a knock. “May I come in?”

- “Mhm”, you hummed, opening the door.

- But your jaw dropped as you saw him.

- He had his collar unbuttoned, revealing his sharp fangs. He was a vampire.

- But more importantly he had blood dripping from his mouth onto his now stained cravat.

- He walked in, as you walked backwards. You fell onto the bed. He took the time to close the door behind him.

- “Cálmate, conejita.” He raised his hands, showing his palms to you. “I have no plans to hurt you.”

- You clutched the sheets of the bed, but as you looked into his eyes, you saw something. He was… scared?

- Your grip on the bedsheets relaxed and you reached for his bloodied face.

- No words were spoken as he leaned into your touch.

- Until…

- “I’ll stay.”

#membrane #professor membrane #professor membrane x reader #writing

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sileniadream · 9 months

Text

A tool in the right hands

“Jub ner lbh?”

The thought travelled through the blue, infinite and shining so much. A flicker. Something trembled, a wave, answering softly in a motherly voice. Standing in the middle of a glyph, the warmth of the voice was quite different from the cold atmosphere around her. Her eyes hurt so much, the light isn’t so kind, but she stands, listening.

-I am Hydaelyn, who others call the Mother Crystal.

The immense crystal came from nowhere, or was maybe there since the beginning. Lyreis couldn’t tell. Everything seemed so alien to her, and the name that she heard in some prayer at the Stillglade Fane still didn’t make sense. Closing her eyes, shielding from the light, she thought once again, unable to form words.

“Jub nz V?”

-You are a spark of hope. You are a light that will guide my children. You are a flame that will bring the Sun in its right course. I gave you my Benediction and awoke a power within you, so you can build the road they’ll take to find me.

“Gur fha? ... Fha... Nz V bayl n Zbba gura....?”

The wave again. Was it kind? Was it amused? Her voice finally came out of her mouth, and Lyreis asked :

-Am I only a reflection to the real light you seek?

Now fully awake, Lyreis watched the decor in front of her eyes. Stones, metal, a soft fabric under her hands while she waited for a sound, a feel that never came. She rose from her bedsheets, unable to understand the dream she had. Already part of it was disappearing from her mind, like a haze dissolving as the sun arose. The word ticked in her head, but she shrugged and got out of her bed, walking slowly to the sink in her room, washing her face. The last shred of her dream went with the water, and she stopped caring. She was staying in Ul’dah for a few days now, following a mission given to her by Kan-E-Senna, then by the adventurer’s guild. Everything felt too busy, too noisy, too bright. Limsa Lominsa somehow felt a bit more like “home”, but she had to leave for a missive to be given, a warning about an Empire on the move. Lyreis wasn’t sure about the implication of it all, and in what circumstances it would be of any interest to her, but she did as she was asked, and gave the missive to the Admiral and to the Sultana.

Today was a day off, something she didn’t understand. No missions, no work, only some time for herself to do anything she wanted. Lyreis got out of her inn room into the Quicksand, thinking about what she was supposed to do. Walking aimlessly seemed the only right choice for someone like her, and she soon found her foot bringing her into the most crowded place, the Sapphire Avenue. Many merchants were haranguing customers for their fine fabrics and jewels, or the newest book from Sharlayan, spices and food from Thavnair, lands she had never heard of before. Looking around, she only felt out of place, but it soon didn’t matter and she just walked her path, slowly but surely, unknowing of some of the eyes watching her every more. While she was a curiosity in Gridania, she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb in Ul’dah, where many came from anywhere in Eorzea. An adventurer within many of them, a simple customer in the eye of the merchants. A boon for the beggars and cutpurses, but somehow, none of them got close to Lyreis, as if someone was making sure they wouldn’t trouble her.

-My lady, can I help you? You seem lost!

That someone seemed to try to catch her attention now, but she wasn’t even looking at him at that moment. The voice tried again, this time touching her arm softly to warn of his presence. Lyreis stopped in her tracks and looked at the man standing now close to her, a cheeky smile on his lips.

-You were lost, but maybe more in your thoughts than in this place.

-Do you need something of me?

Taken aback by that blunt question, the man suddenly laughed and shook his head. He heard about her personality, Papalymo warned him that she would be difficult to talk with, but he didn’t mind the challenge. He was, after all, a charming rogue that couldn’t count how many women he swept off their feet. In a good mood, he asked once more :

-I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, but I wished to talk to you, if you do not mind?

-I don’t have anything to do, why not.

He smiled for himself, then bowed and told her to follow him. Going back to the Quicksand, he found a table and showed her to a chair before he signed for a drink to Momodi. Sitting, he watched as Lyreis was just waiting for him to talk. She didn’t say a word, her green eyes set on him.

-I should introduce myself first. My name’s Thancred Waters. I’m a friend of Yda and Papalymo, who you met in Gridania a few moons ago.

-Then you already know who I am. But call me Lyreis anyway.

The stoic type, then. He wasn’t too phased by it, having already met women like her before. Papalymo really was too worried about anything. That lady would soon give up all her secrets to him. A waiter brought two drinks and put them in front of Thancred and Lyreis before leaving the two alone to speak. The rogue took his glass and turned the liquid inside for a bit before talking again. She didn’t touch her drink.

-I’ve been interested in you since they talked about your meetings. The fact you’ve been chosen, an outsider, by the Oracle to serve as an ambassador with the two other nations of Eorzea is a sign that you are quite special. You gain the trust of many, even spirits of the Black Shroud seem to like you.

-I did what I was asked, I think they just accepted my presence.

-Still it wouldn’t explain why Lady Kan-E-Senna gave you that mission.

-As I said : I only did what was asked of me. I am… “reliable”.

-Is that all there is? My lady, I would say you are a capable woman, strong enough to make a difference, and of great beauty if I may.

Lyreis tilted her head a bit, her face not showing any more emotions than that. Confusion, maybe, but clearly she didn’t understand how her so-called beauty had to do anything with the reasons why people trusted her. Or maybe it was. People tend to speak with good looking people and trust them more than with something ugly or unsettling : that was one of the reasons she had to act less like a mammet after all. Maybe then he was right. She straightened her neck again and shrugged a bit.

-I suppose those are good reasons then. Is that why you wanted to talk to me?

-I was intrigued. And still am ! Why not drink at our first meeting, and then dinner, just you and me ?

She took her glass, waiting in front of her, and as he was ready to toast, she didn’t wait and drank it all in one go. Thancred watched her, amazed by this display of uncaringness, then took a sip of his own drink, suddenly feeling a bit down. What had just happened? Did he lose his touch? Or was she really, really hard to talk with, like Papalymo said? The worst was that she was just looking at him, waiting again. She then turned her head around and saw troubles coming her way, once more. Rising from her chair, she took her staff and used it to knock out her assailant before he could do anything, disarming him.Thancred didn’t even have the time to rise up and get his weapon, and stood astonished at how Lyreis didn’t even bat an eye while doing this. Another man was waiting behind and told her to come out as their chief had to settle a score with her. She shook her head, then turned to Thancred :

-You will have to buy me food another time, it seems. See you.

And off she went, the poor hyur watching as she crossed the roegadyn lying on the ground, still trying to understand what happened to him, and got outside of the Quicksand. They were four or five waiting outside, with a man particularly angry at her sight. Thancred caught a glimpse of his two friends and decided it was better to leave it at it for the moment, conceding his defeat for today. Yda would maybe be better to bring Lyreis to the Waking Sands, and Papalymo would explain everything on the way there. Too bad for him though.

Lyreis stretched her arms, still holding her staff, watching the henchmen waiting for her. She didn’t remember who they were, but somehow she made something to make them mad at her, and she had to take care of it without bringing trouble around her. After all, Momodi and the people of the Quicksand were kind with her, and she was still acting as a gridanian ambassador, she thought. It would make things harder to deal with if she made a mess of this situation. She was reminded by a small voice in her head that she was supposed to heal people, not hurt them, but clearly those in front of her didn’t really care about her career : she had to defend herself. She could always mend them after the fight, if they didn’t flee first…

It didn’t take long for the ruffians to be taken down, and the Brass Blades to come and disperse the people around, while Lyreis watched her newfound enemies running away. She was returning to the Quicksand to apologise to Momodi for the troubles she did inside but was stopped in her tracks by Yda who was waving at her from the other side of the street. She knew it was for her, as she was clearly calling her name in a cheerful voice. Lyreis walked to her, and saw Papalymo, a bit behind, looking as serious as usual. The lalafell looked at her and asked Yda to calm down a bit now that their acquaintance was here. He waited for things to settle a bit in the street to start talking.

-Lyreis, I suppose everything is alright?

-I don’t know why they wanted to fight, but I don't think they’ll come back anytime.

-That’s for the best, we wanted to speak with you and if we’re not interrupted, it would be great.

Yda was smiling and cheering silently at Lyreis, who waited for Papalymo to go on.

-As you may have understood, we have been watching you lately. It’s because you have a power within you that we are seeking. You’re not the only one to have it, as our chief also possesses that power, but we want you to join us, so you can learn more about it, and help us as we help you.

-A power, you say. I’m not sure I follow.

-Haven’t you had visions of the past, of people you only met, things that happened not so long ago? Don’t you sometimes see things when fighting that makes it easier to evade your enemies’ attacks? Can you understand other races, like the beastribes, when they clearly don’t speak the same language?

-Is that not normal?

-No, it isn’t. That power is called the Echo. We can teach you more about it, if you want. Our chief wants to see you first, before recruiting you, so you can make your choice then.

They were walking while talking, leaving Ul’dah for a more secluded place, not too far from the city but enough to not be heard or followed without noticing. Yda was clearly keeping an eye on their surroundings behind that mask of hers, making sure everything was alright for Papalymo to keep explaining. The day was slowly coming to an end, the sun setting its course behind the hills, and the temperatures were being nicer now. Lyreis was thinking at the same time about this Echo. A power that not anyone had. Visions from the past, or a few seconds in the future during a fight : she experienced them, and was sometimes left with a headache. If they could teach her about it, maybe train her, she could stop the pain from having them, control the visions. Maybe she could…

-Anyway, if you’re interested, you can find her in Vesper Bay, we have a small place of operation there called the Waking Sands. It’s near the docks, you’ll find a lalafell named Tataru Taru. Ask her and she’ll send you to us.

-It would be great to see you there, Lyreis! I’m sure the others will be happy to meet you and talk to you.

-Yda, this is not a simple meeting! Remember why we came here!

-Oh, right! But you will explain everything to our friend once she’s there, right Papalymo?

-I’m sure Minfilia will do the job better than I. So, what do you say, Lyreis?

The hyur was stopped once again while trying to put the pieces of the puzzle into their places. They needed her help, and didn’t seem to be bad people. They asked her nicely and explained things to her. They even offer to teach her about the Echo and everything else. Why would she refuse?

-Alright. I don’t see why I shouldn’t come. I’ll follow you.

-What, right now? Don’t you want to prepare your stuff first? Or maybe finish everything you have to do?

-I don’t have a mission right now. And I have everything on me. I’m ready.

-Al..alright then. Well you won’t need to bother Tataru then. Follow us, it’s not too far from here. Yda will go first to make sure everyone is ready.

-I’m on my way!

The young woman made a quick movement of agreement, and after waving to Papalymo and Lyreis, went quickly on a jog, going in the direction of Horizon. Lyreis remembered the place because she was sent there not too long ago, but she never went farther in this part of the Thanalan, so she had to follow Papalymo’s directions. The mage didn’t say much during their travel, maybe too focused on their travel, or maybe wondering what was hidden behind that mask Lyreis was constantly wearing. A face devoid of emotions, not linked to anything or anyone, having few opinions or will… He tried to have a background check on her, but even Thancred couldn’t find a thing about their soon to be new ally. She was blank, on everything, and that made him worry. What if it was all a trap or something? Maybe she was a spy sent by their enemies, or something akin to this? Thus was he thinking while they crossed Horizon and continued their way to Vesper Bay. But, if she wasn’t an enemy, and really had the power of the Echo, the power to counter the Primals… then he would be happy to use her, so his friends would stay safe.

Arriving at Vesper Bay, Yda was waiting for them on the docks in front of a house. She waved and waited for them to come closer.

-You didn’t take too much time, that’s great. I was afraid Papalymo and you would get lost somehow!

-Come on Yda, I’m not a child, I know the way pretty well. And our friend here would have protected me anyway.

Nodding along the way, Lyreis followed the duo inside, after they greeted a pink lalafell who happened to be Tataru. She curtsy to Lyreis before opening the way to the real Waking Sands, hidden under the house. She was told to wait outside the office for a few minutes, just enough time for the people inside to get ready. Then, a feminine voice called her name, and she was greeted by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, all waiting for her. She did not recognize most of them, only Yda, Papalymo, and Thancred she just met before. The blond woman in the middle welcomed her with a smile.

-Welcome, adventurer. I am Minfilia, the leader of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. I was waiting for you. Don’t worry, you’re surrounded by friends here.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #lore dumping #lyreis levy #lyreis #story time #adelevy #thancred waters #papalymo totolymo #yda hext #minfilia warde #scions of the seventh dawn

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goldemas1244 · 1 year

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People: Are you okay?

Me: I'm fine!

Me (internally): The fact that, in some part of Moonton's Mobile Legends Adventure canon, Zhask actually dies in the Land of Dawn (via his Halloween skin) is an interesting concept. However, the implication that apparently SOMEONE cares for him (or hates him) enough to BURY his corpse and CARVE a makeshift TOMBSTONE for him makes me curious as to WHO the Hell it would actually be.

We can see that the tombstone is probably carved from a sword-like thing. It's simplistic: only a Z and not the rest of Zhask's name. Either they want Zhask to be forgotten entirely and the initial be a criminal's only memorabilia, or the need for a name is unnecessary. Reason: manipulatable variable.

But the sword-ish marking choice is awkwardly specific. Only a few individuals wield swords in this game and barely anybody would bother to bury Zhask after all's said and done. I don't think anybody would have much of a vendetta against him. The only people I know who might have a connection to Zhask would be Alucard (demon slayer), Tigreal (literal good guy protag), and... Argus (encountered one of Zhask's drones during his angelhood and didn't kill it, craves power like a madman).

Now it would make sense for Alucard and/or Tigreal to be the ones to do this. He IS threatening the safety of the Land of Dawn (the entire planet in general actually) and it makes sense for him to be a target. To put him in a grave (and somewhat respectfully at that) would be essentially part of their code. Perhaps to honour a fallen adversary. Shared history? Overall respect? Formality?

This begs a question because these guys don't bury the dead. We've seen them defeat countless enemies, some singular, some not. In some part of Akashic, Helcurt dies and they never buried him, possibly due to time constraints. So maybe if they had the time to honour such an important fallen fiend, they would possibly bury them?

That would explain how Zhask comes back every Halloween to kill off some people. That ceaseless vendetta against humans and the leftover magic strength. It would make sense for this vendetta to be fueled by his death circumstances.

So the main theory would be that yes, the main hero gang killed him and honoured him.

... yeah that's probably it.

Or it was Argus. The fallen angel craves power so bad. Didn't he merge with the other guy for his demon skin? It could've been Argus. I have no idea why Argus would bury Zhask but given his heavenly roots and sportsmanship (which probably does exist mind you) he probably would've buried a worthy adversary.

OR if Zhask spends time with the Abyss (never specified but implied per Bone Flamen skin in Bang Bang), he would've been buried as a fallen comrade. The tombstone bearing a friendly respect.

So the three theories are:

Tigreal and the gang killed him because he was a threat and buried him because of a code of honour.

Argus killed him for power reasons and marked a grave to honour a worthy adversary.

Zhask was in some part with the Abyss and his death in some way (probably related to theory one) prompted the other members to etch one out for him. OR they knew he would be revived to cause chaos on Earth.

Theory one and two make the most sense. Theory three is a bit of a stretch but it IS possible.

But I wanna look at his method of death as well.

His Halloween skin shows chains binding him in addition to a pumpkins theme and a brand new outfit. Now the pumpkin theme is understandable sonce it's Halloween and all but I'd like to draw attention to his suit. Mainly: it's split off at the middle. Now this COULD be a stylistic choice but I beg to differ.

This splitoff gives him two pieces of clothing, namely his top and codpiece (right word I hope?). But it seems as if the middle part shows off some form of FLESH which is entirely different from his exoskeletal body. Which leads me to believe that Zhask died from a serious wound to the abdomen since an insect's exoskeleton protects its mushy insides similar to how armour protects a body.

The chains of course could resemble past transgressions or an unchallenged vendetta (take a shot every time I say vendetta). Like Jacob Marley. Vengeance is a common theme, but also MOTIVATION. We can see that he is somewhat BOUND to the Earth. Which MEANS in death even he is still motivated to either get back home, or conquer the Land of Dawn. But why he chooses only to appear on All Hallows' Eve is beyond me. Death anniversary?

Mans likes his outfit so maybe yes, death anniversary.

But why only kill people? Well if you can't spread chaos by domination in 24 hours, at the very least you SHOULD leave a goddamn lasting impact. And UNTIL someone exorcises the body (there's a grave if you recall) he'll still be out there. No magic weapon can kill him. Just exorcise the bloody fuck out of this powerful spirit. Ask Demon Slayer Alucard to do it for you. Fuckin' nightmare to play against if your ult's not charged I fuckin' say-

Then again that begs the question of where he goes when he really dies. Is it nature that he sticks? Is death on Kastiya like that? Does he go to Earth hell or Kastiya hell or heaven? Possibly heaven since planet domination seems to be a best interest of them (like a Valhalla sort of thing)? What happens to his troops? He's the king, does he have an heir? Is the heir vengeful? Could it be that Zhask sticks around to see his heir finally conquering the Land of Dawn and bringing his corpse back to Kastiya?

So many questions, so many variables, so many answers.

#long post #zhask #zhaskposting #mobile legends #mobile legends adventure #mla #ml #IT'S 6AM

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walriding · 2 years

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@celestieu asked: stretches out across his lap for a nap after a long 4 days of no sleep and keeping his presence a safe lil secret 😌😌

He wants to sleep. God, he wants to sleep more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. Fatigue he’d previously known now pales in comparison to the bone-deep weariness that plagues him -- late nights with a laptop and a flurry of notes spread across every surface seem laughable, now. The worst part is knowing that even if he does sleep, it won’t make a different. He’d wake just as exhausted as he is now, if not worse.

Rest offers no respite. Not when his waking mind is already full of nightmares, and closing his eyes only serves to make them all the more vivid.

The incessant itch that lives in his spine wants him dormant and docile, too. Miles can’t even be certain if it’s his own body that needs the rest, or just the thing that’s taken his life prodding him towards what it wants. He hasn’t lived with it for long, but already the reporter has begun to understand how the Swarm operates. All of Murkoff’s pseudoscientific bullshit, and this is what they wrought -- the shadows lingering on the edge of sleep-paralyzed vision made manifest. After all that he’s been through, Miles is lucky enough to be a perfect fit. Its other half, its ideal Host. Filled with enough nightmares to qualify as a buffet for a parasite.

It’s likely going to win out, eventually. His paltry human needs have been severely reduced since its attachment to him, but every now and then an old impulse flares. Hunger, pain, enervation. Instincts that always overpower reason. Best he can do for now is put it off as long as possible, until he has no choice but to pass out.

The struggle is kept to himself, a burden he won’t foist upon someone who’s already given him too much. She sleeps only marginally more frequently than the reporter does, and no amount of persuasion sways her from her defensive role. Few outward signs betray his state -- the dark circles under his eyes are a permanent fixture these days. He just smiles and shrugs and says he feels fine, as fine as he can, and makes the best show of it he can muster. A challenge presents itself when she deems his lap the most comfortable place to doze, and in that moment of quiet comfort Miles feels his own eyelids grow heavy. Something in him stirs, like insects under leaf litter, and he tenses.

Deprived of a meal, it won’t be choosy -- and here lies a convenient victim of circumstance even if Miles manages to fend off his own need for rest. As gently as he can he attempts to extricate herself, mumbling apologies when her wide eyes flutter awake. “Shit, sorry, not -- not here. You can’t sleep here, I don’t--” I don’t know what it’ll do. “It’s not safe. For either of us.”

#celestieu #(sᴛᴀᴛɪᴄ sᴋɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜᴢᴢɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴᴇs) ;;; Vᴇʀsᴇ: Mᴀɪɴ #(ɪɴᴠᴇsᴛɪɢᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟɪsᴍ) ;;; ᴀsᴋs

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reginrokkr · 2 years

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“And there you have it. This is why I’ve went through the extensive effort to seek you out.”

Given the circumstances there wasn’t much of a choice. Within this moment of his life there was a change that couldn’t quite be put into words, an answer without having the right questions to attach it to, leading to countless days of letting the regimen of training and ventures off into the wild, more elementally enriched locations to be part of his search for answers. Even with the Vision wielders he’s come to know and meet by far, nothing added up to what could be supplied as a definitive.

Such loneliness while being in plain sight had its ways of wearing heavy on the mind. That is, until some of his most beloved confidants caught wind of troubles he intended to keep away, opening up a hidden path through the legacy of their family name.

To think it’d arrive to the point of meeting this man across the table from him. One of the far off sitting areas at the Kamisato estate, one that borders by the cliff side reveals a luxurious expand of the sea, tied with the ocean mini small islands littered within the distance.

“I hold unrivaled trust when it comes to the Kamisatos, so in that extent, I’ll also hold faith in you knowing a semblance of ideas about this. Were concepts like this always possible..? For Vision wielders to find this state of evolving? It feels different from the usual road of going strength to strength.”

Dáinsleif has never anticipated that the knowledge he imparted to the Kamisato heirs with the intent to offer them the opportunity for an instruction in discovering if they lack or possess the potential to use their element without the need of a Vision would extend to their trusted retainer. He is fully cognizant that such offer ought to be studied carefully, for it is undeniable that they possess a firm belief in their patron god, but he takes this conversation with Thoma as a positive sign that they are taking his word with the seriousness it deserves.

Now, onto the topic that seems to cause disquietude the most to this noble defender... color this luminary of old impressed. Recent events befallen in the faraway and lush lands of Mondstadt revealed a knowledge known by just a few concerning constellations, as for what Thoma describes that supposes a wisdom understood by even fewer that are closer to understanding the reality of this world. ❝The best known knowledge in this regard, albeit just by a few, is that constellations represent one’s will.❞ Whether said will truly represents the man at its prime or something entirely different altogether is at play, still remains to be seen.

Icy sapphires inspect Thoma from a guarded stance, eyes narrowed in a subtle manner from his scrutiny before peeling them off completely to look towards the vast ocean that extends before them. ❝As for the rest of the answer to what you seek, it entirely depends on you.❞ Content as Dáinsleif is to impart knowledge he deems necessary to assist in mankind’s own advancement in a road that the farthest one may advance, the less necessity they will have in relying the gods, not everyone is prepared nor everyone ought to know. ❝...❞ Is Thoma one of these individuals whom would benefit from this wisdom rather than entering a pit of a spiral that would cause him more harm than good upon learning about certain truths that he could’ve never considered before? There is only one way to know.

❝...Thoma. In appreciation of your extended trust towards me, I must give you a warning before proceeding any further.❞ He turns once more to look at him, azures boring into light greens in a display of honesty and seriousness to not be taken lightly in the slightest. ❝I shall give you something to consider carefully in the meanwhile: how do you deem these sentiments of unrest that you feel? Are they something positive or something negative that you ought to beware of? If you have the Vision on your person, it will be the most convenient for you to save it inside as you ponder about this.❞

You will understand why.

Those words punctuate an impasse of the conversation in the moment that the Twilight Sword’s gaze detaches completely from Thoma’s to stare at the far east in a silent cue to let him to as he sees fit. Dáinsleif understands that his may come off as odd, provoking even. For being an allogene these days is tantamount to wearing a badge of recognition by the gods. A chance given by the divine to have power to chase their purpose in life— or so they would believe. For a moment, his gaze focuses on the light that breaks from the darkness. Ascending towards the summit like torches that culminate in number to the top of Tenshukaku, like individual wishes that make way towards the Almighty Shogun that listens to each and every one of them.

As to what made her reconsider her stance from sealing herself off from the world outside her plane of consciousness to becoming more open and disposed to listen to her people from now on, it remains to be seen. Whatever the case may be, it gives room for an ironical change in this unchanging nation ruled by eternity.

❝So? What is your answer?❞ In essence, this is partly a genuine wish to help this troubled man and partly a test of trust. How far is he willing to go without the guidance of the gods in search of answers?

@scarletooyoroi ✦

#scarletooyoroi #◟༺✦༻◞ What use has the veil of falsehood? ┊Ask.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος θ: Λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊Advent of Ragnarök.┊#there you have the goodies :3 #hope this works for you!

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curtklingermanposts · 1 year

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Why is His Love Hard to Fathom?

Is it Difficult to Believe God Loves You?

Paul prayed, “That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith; that ye, being rooted and grounded in love, May be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; And to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the fulness of God” (Ephesians 3:17-19).

Because of His nature, everything revolves around His love. Even so, Paul prayed that believers would know the love of Christ, which surpasses knowledge. This kind of love goes beyond human reason, so it’s not really surprising people wrestle with the idea of God loving them. Do you find it difficult to believe He loves you? Why is His love hard to fathom? Here are a couple reasons.

Comparisons

For the most part, people base their understanding of love on what they’ve experienced growing up. Good, bad or indifferent, they tend to view God in the same way they view their parents (or whoever raised them). They compare His love to theirs. If their parents (especially fathers) were harsh, they tend view God as harsh. Conversely, if they were warm and affectionate, they would tend see Him in the same light.

Isaiah 46:5 To whom will ye liken Me, and make Me equal, and compare Me, that we may be like (alike)?

God poses a rhetorical question, which He answers in verse nine: Remember the former things of old: for I am God, and there is none else; I am God, and there is none like Me.

We cannot compare humanity with God. No matter how kind an earthly father may be, he will never be as kind as our heavenly Father. Even a mother’s love incomparable to His, which some might be hard to fathom. Moreover, cruelty does not exist in Him; it is the opposite of His nature. He is a good Father Who is ever present, which is something in which to take comfort, especially for those whose father was never present. He will never abandon you!

1 John 4:7-9 Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love. In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him.

Circumstances

Many have asked, “How can a loving God allow such horrible circumstances to exist in the world.” They tend to equate the harsh realities of life, along with the viciousness of humans exerted on other humans with His character. While we will not go deep on this topic, it might be worth considering a few things.

Much of what we see in the world is the result of man’s fallen nature. While that may sound trite in response to the question, it does play large role. From the very beginning, mankind was given a choice. They could do things God’s way, or choose their own path. Many choose their own path, and have or will suffer the consequences of that decision.

Choice without choice is no choice at all. God gives everyone the opportunity to decide to follow, or reject Him. Some might say, “I wasn’t given a choice as to whether to be born.” True; however, you are given a choice to be born again. To this later point, it’s good to remember, we aren’t home yet. 2 Peter 3:10-12 tells us the earth and all its works will be burned up (read for full context). Verse 13 says, Nevertheless we, according to His promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.

All the suffering in this world will come to an end, never to be experienced again.

Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

It is easy to love God when things are easy and going well. With things get tough, that’s when one finds out if he or she truly loves Him. After all, that is the bigger question. Do you love God? By the way, if you do love Him, that is also proof He loves you.

1 John 4:19 We love Him, because He first loved us.

perfectfaith.org

#PerfectFaith #love

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mostly-just-sasuke-blog · 2 years

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Re-watching the Danzo fight, the most heartbreaking moment is in the beginning, when Sasuke asks Danzo over and over if it really is true and realizing the implications of Sasuke's question because there's really only one reason he'd ask. And this is how we know that even then, despite what he may have said to Gaara and Obito and the rest, even then there was still a tiny ember of hope in Sasuke's heart. So fragile and buried deep down that and we never got a hint of its existence until this exact moment when Sasuke asks Danzo if it really is true.

Take away everything that had happened before and the threatening circumstances, and at its core in this moment Sasuke is really just begging for any way out. Still hoping to have his faith in Konoha restored. Desperate for an escape so that he won't be forced to go down this path he feels he has no choice but to walk.

And then we watch that one last ember of hope that he'd so carefully hidden and preserved until this moment get crushed just as he dares to reveal it in the most brutal way possible as Danzo starts insulting the same Itachi who'd given up everything for Danzo. And then proceeds to mock Sasuke condescendingly after ruining Sasuke's life and the lives of everyone Sasuke had loved.

I just don't know if I have words. I mean, for heaven's sake, you'd think Sasuke is already safely broken. That at least by this point he's been kicked down as low as any person can go and that at least he can't be broken any further. Only for him to reveal there was still a tiny part of him left unbroken... and watch Sasuke's heart get crushed once again. And the fact that Sasuke is so used to being broken by this point he doesn't even react to it, just silently absorbs his own final heartbreak and then starts defending Itachi. It's a moment of such silent tragedy. And it goes by without even a comment or remark. Because as much as this show beats you over the head with certain things, it's also just so deceptively subtle.

Here's the thing. We all know what happens next after the Danzo fight: the infamous scene of Sasuke going crazy. But Sasuke's non-reaction here is what isn't normal. On the other hand, Sasuke's reaction when team 7 shows up and Sakura and Kakashi try to kill him, is. Just loosing it after everything Sasuke has been through is normal and understandable. And with Sakura and Kakashi coming here now just to kill him he thinks everything and everyone he's ever trusted has either betrayed or forsaken him.. used him as a tool and then thrown him away the moment he was longer useful. Of course he treats Karin this way. Sasuke has been taught that's just how the ninja world works: No loyalty, No love, Every relationship is transactional. The only difference is now Sasuke believes it. He has given up hope. I mean the whole fight starts when Obito literally just dropped him there and basically just sics him on Danzo, like Sasuke's a dog. All just to train Sasuke. How much more impersonal can you get? But then why should Sasuke be surprised? It's the same way Danzo used Itachi, and Sasuke sees how quickly Danzo throws Itachi away at a hint that Itachi wasn't the perfect dog (even through he was), just proves Itachi's sacrifice ultimately meant nothing. And Danzo is literally the freaking hokage at this moment, meaning he supposedly embodies the will of Konoha. And even when Sasuke left, even when he was serving Orochimaru, Sasuke always carried Konoha in his heart. His team literally teases him for being a Konoha ninja. But whenever Sasuke knows he's being used and can't stop it, his method is to try to regain power by using the other back, just like with Orochimaru. Only now Sasuke doesn't think it's just a few bad apples. It's just how the ninja world is. It's the entire system.

Yeah, Kakashi and Sakura don't understand Sasuke. Heck most of the Fandom doesn't even try. But Naruto does. And that affirmation from Naruto, not judging or gaslighting or acting condescendingly towards or trying to manipulate him for once, but telling Sasuke that everything he's doing is understandable and that Sasuke isn't crazy, that's why it shocks Sasuke. That's why it pulls Sasuke back just slightly from the abyss. In just a few words Naruto is telling him that maybe not everything was a lie. And maybe not every relationship is in the ninja world is transactional.

#naruto #itachi #mental health #team 7 #trauma #danzo #screw danzo #Sasuke #pro sasuke uchiha #pro sasuke #sakura #kakashi sensei #pro naruto #ramblings

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from-the-clouds · 3 years

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Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning

A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking -- and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.

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The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes.

4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face.

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay.

Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been.

“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears.

She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work.

Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise.

There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday.

“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.

She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.

But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.

Except for hers.

Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed.

She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great.

Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep.

Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.

She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day.

Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.

At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut.

It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night.

Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.

When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.

That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason.

For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.

It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.

Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.

Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.

It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called.

I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck.

She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.

At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided.

Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling.

“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.

“Is this Oeznik?” she asked.

“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line.

“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear.

“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”

“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.” Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.

“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”

She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.

“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”

“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself.

“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?”

“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”

“What’s the matter? What did you do?”

She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”

He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”

Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat.

“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”

She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again.

And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone.

She wouldn’t remember the call.

----

Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company.

Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now.

On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad.

She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold.

Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV.

She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.

Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat.

Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps.

A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum.

Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?

It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up.

“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”

Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.

“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.”

She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo.

Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming.

“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted.

“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”

“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”

Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him.

“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.

“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”

“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”

He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.

She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.

Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.

“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.

“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room.

“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.

“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder.

Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera.

“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”

She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.

“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her.

Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table.

“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.

“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”

He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”

“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”

He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.

The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”

Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.

“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”

Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room.

“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”

Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”

“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.

God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.

“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”

No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her.

“You really want me to leave?”

She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled.

“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling.

“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”

She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”

“Says who?”

How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her.

Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame.

“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly.

“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”

He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.

Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.

Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.

“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

She would never let him go again.

---

A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!

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grewlikefancyflowers · 2 years

Text

MDZS original draft differences, chapters 26-30.

Chapter 19

Chapters 20-25

Chapter 26

This line - ‘No wonder the QingheNie sect never criticized or condemned Wei WuXian’s ways. Although they participated in the siege against him at Luanzang Mound, it was only for a single act of revenge. Turns out that the cultivation practices of each successive generation of the Nie family were quite worthy of discussion.’ was removed.

I can’t say I remember NMJ or NHS condemning WWX’s cultivation specifically in the current draft of MDZS…? If they do, then I’d say this line was simply removed for continuity. If they don’t, then I’d say this line was possibly removed so as to not give the impression that the Nies attended the siege purely for personal revenge. Or maybe MXTX just wanted to leave some room for ambiguity in how the Nies felt about WWX’s cultivation.

This line — ‘Looking at Nie HuaiSang, Wei Wuxian thought that he too had suffered many hardships over these years.’’ was removed.

Chapter 27

When LWJ carves WWX’s bamboo flute more precisely for him, it is specified that he uses Bichen to do so - ‘He was holding Bichen in one hand and using it like a dagger, his fingers 3 cun* away from the tip of the blade [...] the “dagger” in his right hand and the flute in his left hand’

I always wondered what exactly LWJ used to carve this ahah, I just assumed he carried around some sort of pocket knife. I guess MXTX changed it because the image of Hanguang Jun holding this big ass sword like a pencil was just a bit too silly? Also, confirmation that LWJ is right handed I guess?

Minor continuity error resolved at the end - In the current version, Wangxian take the body parts they just found to the inn the test if they are from the same corpse, in the original, it reads as if they did this in the sabre hall, which had been mentioned was unsafe to do.

Chapter 28

There’s a slight reshuffling at the beginning of this chapter, but nothing drastic. A description of the ‘crazy’ things WWX got up to as ‘MXY’ was added, and this line ‘He never brought up the past few days, so Lan WangJi never mentioned it either. It was as if they’d gone back to earlier times, where they shared a tacit mutual understanding.’ was removed. Honestly I’m not sure what this ‘tacit mutual understanding’ is referring to lol.

Specifying that LWJ was paying for all WWX’s alcohol was added during the edits. 💖

Chapter 29

The waiter telling WWX not to be impatient was added during edits (lol)

Minor change to this line ‘The assistant replied with conviction, “Yes, that’s right! Last name Wei, I think they called him Wei WuQian. Just mentioning his name makes your voice tremble with fear!”’ (qn)

‘“People sound both hateful and scared when they mention him.”’ (exr) (every other recent translation specifies people being both hateful and scared too)

A slightly different backstory of the Wen Clan and its rise to power was given ‘At that time, the Xing family, headed by Wen Mao, had been experiencing a decline in their sect. They used blood relationships to link themselves with other cultivating families, which led to their sudden rise to prominence and the subsequent revival of their sect.’

Also in the original draft, BSSR is referred to with gender neutral pronouns. I dunno if this comes from the translator’s choice or the original text…?

Chapter 30

This

‘A cultivation family had experienced a terrible tragedy, which caused a real stir in the cultivation world.’

Was changed to this

‘In most cases, only few people knew about the tragedies that happened in smaller clans, but the circumstances back then were different. The Sunshot Campaign finished long ago, while the siege at Luanzang Hill only just ended. On the surface, the situation seemed rather stable. With the sudden disclosure of this event, the entire cultivation world was bubbling with discussion, some even exaggerating that it was the revenge of the revived YiLing Patriarch, Wei WuXian.’ (exr)

I guess this change was made to 1. Emphasise that the wider cultivation world cares little for the fate of a small clan and 2. To give further explanation as to why WWX was blamed for the massacre.

In the original draft, it is said about the yin hufu that ‘He’d originally planned to use it to supplement his own powers – who could have known that its power would completely surpass that of its creator?’ (qn)

The edited version says, ‘He originally wanted to use it to assist him, but its powers were almost exceeding him, its creator’ (exr)

This line :0 was removed. ‘It was his fault that such a powerful magical artifact had been smelted into existence. It was his fault that he hadn’t destroyed the other half before his death. It was his fault that the LanlingJin sect had wanted to restore the Yin Tiger Tally.’

I read this as satirical?? sarcastic? (is that the right word? lol) as it is in the midst of a scene wherein WWX notes multiple times how he is wrongly blamed for everything. I suppose you could also interpret it as if WWX was actually blaming himself… uh I guess. I can think of a few reasons why MXTX might have wanted to remove this one.

In the original draft, the Jin clan never said it’d execute Xue Yang then went back on its word, instead life imprisonment was agreed to begin with.

This

‘Lan WangJi remained silent, sheathing Bichen as if his sword could topple mountains and overturn seas. The gravedigger stepped back, as if he knew that he wasn’t evenly matched with Lan WangJi and that fighting hand-to-hand would only result in his capture. He suddenly produced a dark blue talisman seal from his waist.’

Was changed to this

‘Lan WangJi said nothing. Bichen’s attacks were deeper and deeper, attacking with tremendous force. The gravedigger fell back a few times. As if he knew that, with a dead person on his back, he wouldn’t be able to win against Lan WangJi and, if they continued to fight, he’d be captured alive, he suddenly fished out a dark-blue talisman from his waist.’ (exr)

When Su She recognised his sword style, LWJ went for hand-to-hand combat instead in the original… Maybe MXTX changed it because there was no reason for LWJ to stop using Bichen, even if Su She recognised his sword moves, he was still no match for LWJ.

This next part is pretty interesting, once the fight in the graveyard is over, we have this.

‘“This matter just got a lot more complicated,” he [WWX] evaluated.

Although, in the end, this matter never had anything to do with Wei WuXian to begin with. Up until now, he and Lan WangJi had only been gathering the parts of this corpse. Although, admittedly, the reason they were doing so was to get rid of the Malignant Mark, and also to protect Lan WangJi’s loved ones back at the Cloud Recesses while they were at it.

He paused for a bit, then said, “Even if this matter is so complicated, you don’t have to be so heavy-hearted, Hanguang-jun.’ (A bit more dialogue follows on from this, it was moved to the very end of ch.32 in the edits).

I guess I find it curious that MXTX originally gave WX personal reasons for tracking down NMJ’s corpse, even commenting that it didn’t really have anything to do with WWX, but in the end she decided to remove this part entirely. Also I think WWX comforting LWJ is cute. (In case anyone doesn’t remember, he was not at all pleased to find that the gravedigger had some connection with the Lan sect)

In the current version, after LWJ is drunk, WWX fishes his money out of his robes and gets two rooms for them at the inn. In the original, WWX takes out keys for two rooms they’d already booked. (I find this interesting because in the edited version, the only time WX have two rooms rather than one is when WWX books them.)

WWX has far more of a reaction to his realisation as to why the Jin sect had kept WN around in the original draft

‘Wei WuXian just then realized that it had all been a lie. He suddenly felt dizzy, and he let out a bitter laugh. He couldn’t tell if he was feeling sadness or regret. Regret from having not realized earlier that it had all been a trap. Sadness from knowing that the outcome would not have changed even if he had recognized it.

After the wave of dizziness passed, Wei WuXian stood to the side of Wen Ning and tried to think of a plan as he slowly ran his fingers through Wen Ning’s hair.’

All that was replaced with

‘With a bitter laugh, he stood by Wen Ning’s side.’ (exr)

#mdzs #mdzs original draft #doing these is so time consuming lol #there was quite a few interesting things in this one though actually

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