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#my brother is a himbo and I love that idiot so much
perpetual-trashcan · 2 years
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The funniest thing to come out of today was that when my little brother heard about the Try Guys cheating scandal, he started another rant about how these straight white guys make a career from supposedly loving their wives only to cheat on them (continuing on from the rant he had after John mulaney) and how they can’t be trusted….
Only for him to stop half way through and looking at me with this semi horror before asking “wait can I be trusted?”
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Note
Hello May I Request a Rottmnt Fluff And Gn Reader like The Boys are a little bit sad for Whatever reason and Reader comforts them with Cuddles (also this is my First time Requesting Something so sorry if it makes no sense)
it makes sense don't worry! btw idk if this is what you asked for but this is what I came up with im so sorry if its not
1 request down like 8 more to go (im going to go crazy but its fine tho)
sad! rottmnt x gn! reader fluff
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raph
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he accidentally ripped his favorite teddy bear while sleeping
he was absolutely distraught
hes never been this sad before
he called you at 3am SOBBING
you came over at like 3:12am(on a school night)
he hugged you SO HARD crying about his teddy bear:((
you were scratching under his chin (i think he would like that??) as he was pouting like a baby with tears streaming down his face
you guys were now cuddling his face buried in your chest you can hear him trying not to cry again(I FEEL SO BAD BRO)
you lifted his head up to look at you and you started kissing all over his face and he started giggling like a little girl(goofy)
after your kiss attack all over his face
"i love you so much babe"
"i love you too raphie"
(forget school bruh)
leo
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he got banned from run of the mill(its like his 87th time getting banned)
saying he was sad was an understatement
he. was. DISTRAUGHTTT.
it was his favorite pizza place...
AND HE WAS BANNED???(again)
and all he said was that huesos forehead is as big as the moon
he NEEDED your cuddles
so he portal sworded to your room crying
you were laying on your bed and you hear someone crying and you knew who it was
your himbo boyfriend(IM SORRY LMAO)
he jumped on you
"hey you ok?"
"i got banned from run of the mill"
you were trying so hard to hold in your laughter
"oh really?"
"yeah"
he was hugging you so hard
his face was in your stomach
you just started scratching his head
he started giggling like an idiot
"i love you mi vida"
"i love you to neon leon"
donnie
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the purple game 2 got canceled...
THE PURPLE GAME 2 GOT WHATTTTTTT??????
YOUR JOKING RIGHT??
PLEASE TELL HIM YOUR JOKING
HES SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SAD BRO
he's going through the seven stages of grief in 7 seconds
he would be so devastated
he would lock himself in his lab for days
he won't even go out for flavorless juice or pizza
his "dum dum" brothers need to call you bc of this
"hey donnie?" you knock
no response
"donnie its me 'name'"
the labs doors open
you walk in and hes not there?
weird
you go into his room and there he is just laying on his bed
you walk up to him
"hey"
no response
"HEY"
"what."
"whats wrong?"
"the purple game 2 got canceled"
"oh"
he's trying so hard not to cry for the 5th time today
you jump up on his bed and you put his head on your lap
he signs
and he looks up at you with his cute doe eyes(i love his eyes man)
"you know i love you right?"
"yes i know. i love you to"
mikey
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he broke his skateboard in half
he was so sad:((
he was sobbing for like an hour
not even a hug from his brothers could calm him down
but yours can
he called you crying abt his skateboard
you came over as fast as you could
he was in his room and as SOON as he saw you he RAN into you arms
he was sobbing in your chest
you both walked back to his bed him still sobbing on your chest
you guys are now cuddling him STILL on your chest but not sobbing any more just reduced to some sniffles now
"i love you so much babe"
"i love you too"
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IM DONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON
BYE BYE NOWW
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anundyingfidelity · 3 months
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NO SECOND CHANCES — Brother Day/Cleon XVII
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Summary: A lonely space traveler happens to save from a certain death the most annoying person of the entire galaxy, the Emperor.
Pairing: Cleon XVII x female reader.
Word count: 8.1k. (oooops).
Warnings: well, spoilers for whole season 2. Language, angst (the reader wants to die, really). Talks about suicide, talks about suicide attempts, reader having nightmares, PTSD, reader is suffering too. Some hurt/comfort, some fluff? Filthy smut (included but not limited to hand jobs, unprotected sex, oral from both parts, dirty language, etc. etc.), and end of the world sex (to Beki's arsehole bitches yay🥂). Also Cleon refers to the reader as "woman" a couple of times lol. Reader has pierced ears? (wait for it). Bittersweet ending tbh.
Notes: just trying to make slow burn in a one shot because I'm a lazy fucker who doesn't like to write stories with chapters, otherwise I don't finish shit. Uh probably OOC Cleon??? I don't know. Fully inspired by my favorite trope ever: saving the bad guy and making him humble. I don't care we're four people watching Foundation, I need to write about this little piece of shit I love him so much. Cleon XVII is a himbo I said it. Not beta, we die like bitches of the Gossamer court.
Tagging: @curiouswildi hope you like it 🥺💘
GEN MASTERLIST!
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I. BEYOND
The last thing wandering his mind was Bel Riose. Fucking Bel Riose. That idiot. They had won over him; over him, who was Empire and still meant to be for years ahead. Next, the cold feeling of space was embracing him. But he felt he was not floating around anymore.
Cleon was tied to a surface. It felt like harsh, uncomfortable metal under his back. He slowly forced his eyes open, moving his limbs and trying to escape whatever it was restraining him to do so. His wrists and ankles, as his waist, were tied by a light blue particle field preventing the patient to move at all. He was met with the roof of a ship and equipment, but it wasn't any Imperial one. In panic, he moved until he was able to shake the surface he was on, panting and grunting, feeling some pain and sting resurging all over him. The headache was becoming unbearable and the sounds coming from his dry mouth finally transformed into screams. The room doors opened and a strange voice catched his attention.
"Finally, you're awake."
Cleon obliged to follow the shadow moving around, his eyes focusing to try and see who was talking. He heard steps and the sounds of metal and glass clinking around, probably looking for medication and tools as he was know fully concius. The figure finally came to view by his side.
"I will inject this, so don't move," you said, grabbing his bicep. Cleon was about to protest, but the needle was faster and the medicine was welcomed on his vurnerable system, easing the pain and calming down the headache. "Welcome back, Eminence," you smirked to him.
"And just so, who are you?" he asked chuckling to himself, licking his lips. "What have you done to me?"
"First, I saved your life and cleaned all your bloody wounds. You should say thanks at least," you sat down dangerously close by his side, on the same surface he was on.
"I did not ask you for mercy."
"Oh, but I did," you replied, a smirk on your lips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have, right?" you took a small pencil-like device in your hand from the pocket of your pants and used it to scan his vital signs. You touched his face carefully with your fingers, examining his eyes, his heartbeat, and any anomaly that might be on his system from head to toe, but the scanner found none. Cleon watched you doing so until he asked again, his voice softer this time.
"Who are you?"
"Just no one as important as you are," you said, saving the scanner back.
"Where are we?" Cleon asked, looking around. He observed he was placed in a small medical bay.
"In space, in the middle of nowhere I suppose," you shrugged, getting on your feet again. "It seems you're recovering quite well and fast. At least that's what my scanner says. So first, I think you should want some water, which I am leaving right here," you put a flask on the small table next to him. "And before I give you this to drink, I want to make sure you will not restrain or fight back at me."
He laughed, that narcissistic smile on his face. You wanted to punch him.
"You're no match for me, woman."
"Really? Then I could just throw you out there again, you know, it's not difficult. I'm spending resources on you, surely I won't oppose to that idea," you snapped back.
His smile faded slowly, thinking. If it wasn't for you, he would be dead by now, it was true. But he was so used to be immortal and undefeteable that the situation was kind of new. He only had been vulnerable and exposed to his doctors in the palace, and you were a complete stranger. And still, you had the heart to take him in your ship and save his life. He sighed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
"Fuck, fine. What do you want me to do?"
So this was his way of cooperating, you thought.
"After I turn off the restraints, you will have to sit down on the stretcher. I will help you. Do not try to get up yet, you might feel dizzy."
With a nod he said to you the orders were clear. Next, the restraints disappeared in the air with a push on a button and Cleon felt a small relief. As you promised, you helped him to sit and he realized that the clothes he had before were replaced with a set of new pale grey robes that allowed him to move freely. You offered the flask to his lips, but he watched you with a questioning look on his face.
"Is only water, I swear. See?" you had a small sip from the bottle and he looked more at ease after you swallowed the liquid.
You offered the bottle again and helped him to slowly drink. Once he was done, you placed a small tray with fruits and dry seeds on top of the same table beside the stretcher.
"You might want to eat something," you said, breaking the silence under his fixed gaze. Even when he was sitting down and you on your feet it felt rather intimidating. "I'm still collecting supplies and food. You were certainly not part of the plan these days."
"So you travel alone," Cleon said, taking a small red fruit between his fingers and began to eat it.
"I do," you nodded. "Sorry if the taste of the fruit is not pleasant."
"You're doing your best," he said while eating, studying the room around him. You were not sure if he was mocking you or not. "What was your name again?"
You chuckled. "You're very interesting, Empire. Why don't you finish eating and rest before taking a bath?"
The next few hours, you left him to rest and escorted him to your quaters, the only place with a comfortable bed, so he could get proper sleep. Since there were no further questions from him, you got to your business and requested more provisions to the merchants. Traveling alone had made you some contacts and traders, from time to time you would request for food giving in exchange money or rare knick knacks, and within a day you had a small capsule with supplements heading to your coordinates with everything you needed. You just had to wait for now.
After checking the estate of your ship and confirming everything was working correctly, you went back to your quaters to see how the Emperor was doing. You were startled to see him sitting on your bed with a book between his hands. He looked like he just had a bath because his shirt was gone and his hair was wet, some droplets running down his skin. Quickly, you studied him. He was handsome, muscular, his skin had a beautiful tan, and he was tall and heavy as hell, something you noticed when cleaning his wounds and taking him inside your ship. The earring on his left ear was also interesting, you thought, for a member of the most important dinasty of the galaxy. Very rebellious for the emperor.
You also knew he heard you steping in but never looked up from the book because he was the first one to talk.
"Never I could imagine you would have books in here," he said, clearly interested on the pages.
"Yeah, not all of us are barbarians as you work so hard to convice yourself we are."
He chuckled to himself, looking at you for the first time since you entered the room.
"Are you from Korell?"
"The book gave it away, didn't it."
"This is very old," he said, closing the book. "You are for sure not allowed to have this in Korell."
"That is one of the reasons I left," you replied, looking around the place. It was obvious to you that he was pearing within your personal stuff because the old myth book was secured down your mattress. At least he didn't leave a mess and everything seemed in the right place. "I was a threat in my planet so Argo kept looking for me for some conspiracy shit and terrorism when all I did was oppose myself to his repression and freakshow," you continued, his eyes drew back to you. "They wanted me dead in Korell, but I am the only one to decide that, even when and where will it happen."
Cleon shifted on his seat, wondering why you were sharing a piece of your life to him when he didn't even know your name yet. Words and thoughts wandered his head on how would he answer to your words, compassion or empathy sometimes were difficult things to feel. But before he was able to speak, you interrupted his thoughts.
"I will leave you alone to rest for a while and will come back when it's around supper. I follow Kornell cycle of time, so you know... Just don't poke around my underwear, Empire," you dragged his title mockingly.
He laughed softly, going back to his reading.
"Thank you for the idea."
That was the first time you would hear him expressing gratitude.
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II. GHOSTS FROM THE PAST
Around more than a week passed, and Cleon was healing and his wounds were not so visible now. You made sure to inject him every day and gave your quaters and bed for him to sleep and recover. He had took a pad you had in the room so he could count the cycle of days in Trantor. Hardly to admit, he found himself missing home rather than hatred. Sometimes the rage mixed with sorrow, but he forced himself to try and understand that it was a normal feeling due to the sudden lose of everything he once had.
Cleon had been up from some time now as he counted the end of the eighth day on the pad, and wondered why your daily visit was taking so long. It was a habit you had, to come in and wake him up with the medicine, and after it was done, you would tell him to eat some of the fruits and food on the tray you brought for him. He got on his feet and put a shirt on before leaving the room to search for you. On the pilot cabin, you had an improvised, small stickable mattress on the wall that had saved your life before, so you used it to sleep and rest the past few days while he cured. Cleon observed your figure lying down on the mattress, walking slowly and sensing something was not right. He found you shaking and trembling, eyes still closed and chest heavily breathing as your hand held onto dear life what he realised it was a gun.
He felt somehow frightened and confused. If you wanted to kill him, you would already have done it. You had made yourself clear on that. The tremor of your body seemed it was increasing and Cleon, with a gentless he did not know he possesed, tried to soothe you with his voice, removing the gun from your embrace.
"Shh... everything is fine," he mumbled, not sure of his words, his other hand touching your shoulder in soft circles. He was able to withdraw the gun from your hands and placed it on the floating shelf near by.
Your eyes squeezed and some tears flowed down your face as you sobbed still in your sleep. Cleon hesitated on what to do next to wake you up. He leaned again, his hand slowly tracing the skin of your arm, like he did when his brother Dawn was a child.
"Woman? Wake up," he whispered, shaking you a little bit and pating your arm softly, and when he talked again, his voice was a little bit louder. "You're having a nightmare, wake up."
And as he repeated his words over and over, your eyes opened wide, feeling your lungs able to breath again. But your senses still were coming to awareness, and automatically you slapped the face of whoever it was touching your arm. You heard him groan in pain and you rolled over the mattres, until you hit the floor, taking out a small blade from below the makeshift pillow of fabrics you used. The blade pointing at him as you looked around the cabin to find out it was only both of you.
"What- are you okay?!" Cleon questioned with a frown, rubbing his hurting cheek as he remained on the other side of your bed, the only thing separating you from him was the mattress.
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine!"
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course you are not."
"Then why the fuck would you ask that?! It's obvious I'm not fine!" you yelled. Your body was tense and ready to attack. You felt a knot on your throat, like if you were to cry again. Silence envolved you, trying to calm down. That inner voice in your head began saying it was just a dream, and you wanted to believe it. It was all in your head. It was not real...
"Do you want to kill me?" Cleon's gloomy voice echoed.
"What? No! I would never-"
"Then why are you sleeping with a damn blaster shot and a blade on your bed?!" he confronted, screaming at you, but not daring to move as you also remained standing in the same place.
"Because I wanted to kill myself!" you yelled back, pointing the sharp of the knife to you instead. His face became stern and you realised what you had said, and what was happening. Ashamed, you threw the blade back under the pillow. "Sorry, I don't want you to know that. Forget it."
You wiped the tears on your face under his piercing and concerning eyes. You forced your head to compose and burry your nightmares and memories deep inside before talking.
"I have to inject you," you said and walked back to the room, sure he would follow behind. Once you crossed the doors, you prepared the needle but Cleon remained standing near the exit of your room the whole time, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with utter worry on his face. Why? He really did not know. Probably because you were the only human and intelligent contact he had for days now, and you had the decency to keep him alive. Though he was not going to let that in his head - yet.
"Why don't you seat?" you most likely ordered. Cleon slowly made his way to you and remained standing, tall and kind of threatening. He was Emperor, after all.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked with a careful tone.
"Nothing, Empire. Just sit," you said, coldly, waiting for him to do as you requested.
"No, I need to know," he demanded, coming closer to you, jaw clenching. Anger started taking over your being and held his gaze as you replied.
"I have the right to decide whether or not speak about my personal life, I am not one of your subjects, so sit the fuck down so I can give you the last dosis of this shit."
"I need to know if I can fucking trust you after what I just heard coming from your mouth," his voice boomed around the place.
"You really want to know?! Fine, back in Korell I lost my family, my brother, my parents, my home - everything I had they took it from me! I was the last one alive and I escaped after they killed my brother in front of me and that day is still haunting me," you muttered and felt the tears forming on your eyes, but this time, of rage. "So if it concerns your own well being, like it always has been, no, I will not kill you. But you are no Emperor here, so stop that game. Some of us never gave a fuck about you or the Empire, or the Foundation and Hari Seldon, or the Church of the Galactic Spirit -I don't care! I'm tired, I just want to be free and live peacefully!"
You had not noticed you stepped closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. His face was blank, as if he had been slapped again, but this time to reality. A reality he was not familiar with on his own bubble.
Quickly you grabbed his bicep and injected the dosis with him standing up. He whined in surprise. It was fast. So fast that you just removed the needle from his flesh and left the room.
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III. WHAT YOU REALLY KNOW
According to the Trantor cycle, evening should be now. When you left him alone in the room, Cleon spent the next hours by himself, and since he watched you looking up for garments and food around the ship before, he made sure to get those without speaking to you. Not that you wanted to talk either. He noticed you sitting on the main pilot seat, looking at the stars and the void through the glass the whole day. He got concerned for a moment, but decided to let you be as he, also, understood that some time alone was necessary.
However, Cleon thought to talk to you finally and say something. Anything to get you back to reality and forget your bad dreams. So he found himself making his way to sit on the other chair of the ship. He prepared the words to say inside his head, but it was more difficult to speak out loud.
"I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, taking in the view of space. You nodded slowly your head. Nobody turned to see each other.
"It's nothing. But apology accepted I guess."
"It's not nothing. I rarely thought about what other citizens and planets are going through... I'm so sorry it happened to you."
"I would like to say that was not your fault, but since the Empire withdrawal from Korell, living there definitely became so much worse," you confessed, very aware of the genetic dinasty and some of the things previous emperors did, which did not change much. They were the same man after all. Cloning again and again...
"Probably should apologise for that as well," he said.
"Yeah, it's too late, but thank you."
Cleon could still sense a feeling of resentment in your voice. He thought you were right to feel that way, but he was also going to try and make you understand him.
"I never had a mother, or a father, and my brothers are the same man as me, so it's hard to understand that some people lose their family and loved ones. I was born with that loss already... That's why I wanted to end the genetic dinasty."
"You are the eighteenth?" you asked, not knowing exactly why he was opening to you.
"The seventeenth."
"That's a lot of you though. Do you remember anything from the past?"
"I do not. But our memories are always saved. Everything that happens in Trantor is recorded and kept as data. If I want to know something about a previous Cleon, I would just request it."
You turned your gaze to finally see him, he looked in awe with space as he spoke.
"So what was your motive to destroy a planet?"
He turned his eyes to you. "I believe you didn't care about Empire or the Foundation."
"That doesn't mean I want to see a genocide, your Eminence."
Cleon stirred on his seat, with a strange feeling of guilt, sadness and regret. For some reason, the title falling off your lips made everything worse.
"You saw it," he said. "How? You're no part of the Foundation, at least you're lying to me."
"No, I am not! I did a stupid space jump without course and I ended here, unfortunately." You were growing tired of the conversation. "I don't know why we keep talking. We're both shitty people anyway."
Cleon chuckled, not to mock you, but because of the whole situation you were in together.
"I know you are. Brave enough to kill yourself, taking another life is nothing compared to your own."
You locked your gaze with his, thinking if he was he judging you or flattering you.
"And have you, like, tried to end with your life at some point? You must feel lonely, under the shadow of a clone, not allowing you to be, well, you."
He let out a deep breath, avoiding your eyes.
"I have not, but my genes are already compromised and adultered. No surprise if any of us dared to commit suicide before," he replied, looking to the void. "In any case, if something out of the ordinary is to happen to my brothers or myself, we have another clone with our same memories, same age, everything; prepared to be woken up and take our place. Like if we never existed."
"That's fucked up," you scoffed. "We are never trully free, are we."
You got on your feet to look up for something to eat and forget your small talk. You knew he had searched for fruits and dry food because you heard him moving around and then leaving a couple of times, but you had nothing through the whole day. Cleon followed your steps, leaving enough space between you both as you took a couple of apples, giving one to him.
"The jump, how did you do that?" he asked, taking a bite of the fruit. "You don't have spacers."
"The rebels are smart people. A lot of members of the Foundation replicated your technology."
"I thought you were not involved with them," he insisted.
"I am not, but I would never deny any help. That my support doesn't rely on them doesn't mean I will let a chance slide."
"You're not answering my question."
You pulled the sleeve of your shirt up to show your bare wrist to him. There was the same device Hober Mallow and the Clerics had, inserted on your skin.
"I use this.”
"This is a whisper ship," he mumbled.
"Smart. Yes, sort of."
Cleon scoffed. "So that means we can land somewhere."
"About that, uh, we can't."
He moved to throw the remainings of his fruit with a confused look. "Why?"
He heard your sigh as you covered your wrist again, looking away from his deep eyes.
"I- I threw myself to space because I wanted to kill myself," you started, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't care how long would take me, I just wanted to blow up my ship. Just end everything. But then I saw you, floating, dying... and for some reason I couldn't let you die. I didn't know who you were but I saved you. There's no energy or fuel to make another jump. I don't have that. We are far from what Terminus was now. From any planet, form of life or civilization... plus you are unarmed. You still are weak and anyone could kill you," you finished, and waiting for some reason that he could forgive you for giving him any sort of hope. "I'm sorry, Empire."
Beyond madness, Cleon felt you were worried for him. Not the kind of sentiment his brothers or palace workers would do, but a real one. Because you knew saving him was condemn him to death anyway. But this felt much better than dying alone. He had sins, past despiteful decisions and ghosts hunting him, as so were you. You just addressed your feelings and your life together in less than a day. And you were right, none of you were never trully free, but as crazy as it might be, being lost in space with you felt like freedom to him. Finally, he was far away from everything that was keeping chained to a life and responsibilities he never asked for, living under the shadow of an egotistical emperor.
There was a strong impulse growing inside him and before his rational voice began to scream it was a bad idea to continue, he had cupped your cheeks between his hands and his lips pressing hungrily against yours. You whined, surprised of the warm feeling of his mouth, his tongue hurriedly asking for permission to taste you. When oxygen was not enough you pulled away, shocked and panting. You barely noticed your hand around his forearm, recovering yourself from the best kiss you had in some time.
"Cleon," he whispered, kissing your lips one more time.
"What?"
"Just call me Cleon. I'm not Empire anymore."
You kissed him in response with the same eagerness he had before, heart beating strongly in your chest. His hands caressed every inch of your body, from your neck, breasts, your hips, your soft thighs, your ass... he touched you with desperate fire while you moaned against his mouth, liking where was this leading you, more than you wanted to admit.
That was the first time you gave in to him completely.
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IV. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED
You moaned against his lips, those that forcefuly broke the heated kiss you shared as he ruts into you desperately to reach his own climax. His flesh hitting against yours made an obscene harmony that echoed the confines the ship, far from civil and coherent noises fell from his lips as he sucked into the skin of your neck.
"Fuck, yes, right there," a broken whimper escaped your throat, your nails scratching his back, your walls clenching around his cock. "Cleon..."
The sound of his name being moaned by your sweet, raspy voice, caused him to slow down his thrusts just a bit.
"I still don't know your name," he whispered, bitting your bottom lip only to kiss you wet again.
"And yet you're fucking me, isn't that enough?" you teased, rolling your hips to meet his own.
He gave you a smirk, that fucking handsome smirk you hated so much. He took you with his strong arms, flipping you around so he was now on his back and you got control on top of him. You sinked down his dick setting a reckless rhythm, his thrusts matching yours every time you went down, his grip hard on your waist, marking and bruising your skin. One of his hands massaged your bouncing breasts, one after the other, pinching and then, you felt his mouth biting your nipples and chest, as he leaned your body to him for easy access, with slow grunts and groans that didn't sound human anymore.
His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot from the position you were taking him, increasing the tension inside you. The sensation of his hands coming back to your sides and making its way to your ass cheeks to guide your bouncing hips became too much so soon. You cried as you felt drunk and high, muscles tense as you finally came. Cleon held you tight, fucking into you as you reached sweet release. His tongue traveled down your collarbone and breasts.
"Cleon," you moaned, your hands on his chest to support your body better. You felt him twitch inside you, knowing he was dangerously close too. Quickly, you slid off him, taking his girth, slick with your own wetness, between your hand you pumped him hard, easing his own release. His seed coated your palm, sprinkling on his abdomen.
"Shit, you're great," he praised, voice dark from lust. His fingers tangled into your hair, his forehead against yours as you recovered from the intense sex session you had for the second time that day. He kissed you sweetly, like a sweetness he only had discovered in the short time with you. "I wish I could know your name."
"You can call me your savior," you gave him a playful smile.
After a shared lazy kiss, you got on your feet, legs still shaking, and left the bed to clean yourself in the small place you called bathroom right next to the only room of the ship. Once finished, you threw the cloth away, and looked directly the mirror, or poor attempt of it. In the damp glass, you watched Cleon appear to embrace your body against his, your back touching his chest muscles and his hands roamed your abdomen while he left butterfly kisses on your shoulder. His big arms around you, pressing your figure to his own, huge in comparison entrusting protection.
The nineteenth day it was, and you spent it exploring your pleassures, talking nonsense and overall for Cleon, thinking he might love you. The confinement had flourished different kinds of feelings and sentiments inside his heart. He finally learned to feel something else besides hatred, power, or selfishness. The more you spoke to him, the more he grew to like you. You were far from perfect and so was he, and the way you opened your heart to him - the man who was to wed a powerful queen, govern thrillions of people around the galaxy and kill a few others - caused him to feel unworthy of anything coming from you. The man he grew up to be slowly disappeared as long as you had him under your light and spirit; his old self was fading away. And it scared him, but excited him at the same time. Even when he was very aware you were near the end together, he had nothing to ask for but to perish with you.
"What's in your head?" you whispered.
Cleon had no longer been tasting the skin of your neck, his chin pressed on your shoulder instead with his mind running a million thoughts by now. He took a glance at the damp and dirty mirror of how perfect you looked, bare and exposed in body and soul, only for his eyes to witness the true beauty of being alive. Of being human.
"You."
A loving smile curled up on your lips, looking directly into his enamoured gaze through the mirror. He decided he wanted to remember you like this in the afterlife.
You finished marking the last spot with an 'x', a wide grin over your face.
"I won."
"Yet again," Cleon chuckled. His laugh had grew sincere with you as he settled on the floor on the cold floor of the pilot cabin, just giving enough space for the board between you and him. "And what is your question, person-I-not-know-the-name-of?"
You just had finished playing another round of a silly game. It was an old Terran game, and you were surprised it made it this far across the galaxy. It was good to pass the time though. It kept you and Cleon thinking about other things besides dying. The fuel and energy, along with the water, were lowering on their levels. Food on the other hand was not a worry, you knew you could request to the traders as long as energy was functioning to make communication with them. However, the energy of your ship had to be loaded in land, just like fuel. And you had no place to go now to do that.
Being together as long as you had the resources was the main goal now. So many things crossed your mind as you talked about everything and nothing at the same time the past days.
"Have you ever been in love?" you asked after some time thinking.
You thought maybe it was the first time in Cleon's life that he was finally able to think and behave on his own, with no burdens about a dinasty to protect or pleasing his council.
He was taken by surprise as you spoke. He immediately remembered Demerzel, his loyal advisor. His relationship was merely sexual, but there were no feelings that would assimilate to what love is in reality. For sure, his own clone should have been woken up by now with no further consequences. For Cleon, it felt like he was actually erased from existence forever. He was disposable, just like his brothers. But thinking about your question, his answer was no. He never knew what love was. Not from Demerzel, certainly not from Dusk, Dawn was slightly different though, he did love Dawn but not the way you were referring to. He never knew the love from a mother or a father, nor family. Sareth hated him, so even if they got to marry he knew there would be no space for such sentiment. His own future children with the Queen of Cloud Dominion would have grown up without an essential part of being human.
"No," Cleon finally gave an answer, his gaze went soft as he realised what you just became to him in a matter of days. "However I sense something different when I am with you. And I don't recall to know what that is."
You smiled. "Isolation tends to create adjustments in those who suffer it."
"And have you?" Cleon asked back. "Have you ever felt it before?"
"I did... With my parents, my brother, my best friends, and a couple of assholes who broke my heart."
He chuckled, admiring the charm you had to brush off the hardships in your life. You smiled back at him. Gods you loved seeing him like this, like if he was happy and nothing had happened.
"And how is it?" he said.
"It's affection, it's addictive, not everyone can escape from it. You feel like you belong somewhere, that your life is strangely complete," you mumbled, locking your gaze with his own. "And it hurts a lot. But as you go through that path, you get to know the most beautiful kind of pain."
"Does it hurt now?"
You swallowed hard, that familiar knot on your throat. You were not expecting to feel this way. Not for the Emperor, not for the clone, not for Cleon. Yet one does not control love. You don't decide to love someone without a reason. And what else could two lost souls do in the middle of the galaxy with no purpose but to wait and die? You had opened your deepest fears and secrets to him, not expecting Cleon doing exactly the same. He trusted you and you trusted him. You slept in the same bed, ate the same food and fruits, fucked like animals everyday and yet there was an emotional connection in between you thought would never know again after so many years. How could you not fall for him when everything was crumbling? Finally, you nodded your head, feeling the tears burning in your eyes.
"I always have been alone, Cleon, but my soul seems to have a little love to give. In the end, love is what makes us human."
Cleon put the board of the game away and leaned closer to you, his hand caressed your cheek, cleaning the tears falling down your face as he pressed his forehead with yours. He kissed you softly, swallowing your pain, as a way to say he was hurting too.
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V. VOYAGE
It was the thirtieth day on the ship.
Your last try to get and land in any planet failed. As much as Cleon told you to stop, that everything was fine, you felt you had to keep trying until your last day. But the ship was basically to zero fuel and soon energy will follow. You used the control panel of the ship, hopefuly to find a near by land, but luck was not on your side. There was nothing. You don't know exactly how many miles you traveled with no course for a month. It was getting beyond bearing.
Frustrated, you pulled away the holo of the map and the calculations you did in the air, throwing a lose screw of your seat directly to the glass. It did nothing, but you were starting to hate the view of the stars and nothingness sorrounding.
"I told you to stop that," you listened to Cleon, who seemed just arrived to the pilot cabin.
"I had to try," you stood up, walking towards him. Your arms embraced his waist and he took you in with the same warmth.
"You're worried."
"I am not," you whined. "I should have sent for help with the merchants."
Cleon broke your hug and cupped your face between his hands, leaning closer to you.
"No, we should end this now," he whispered, his brows furrowed.
"No!"
"Why not? You wanted to do it even before you found me."
"Because now ending me is ending you too!"
Cleon felt your pain, but there was no other option to make than to blow up the ship anyway. Even if you were to land somewhere, what was for him? You were not able to go back home, and Cleon was discarded at this point. The throne could not have two of the same in the middle. Hiding and running away sounded like a good choice, but still, where? There was nothing left, but he found comfort with you.
"I am okay with this," he said. "I told you. You have to do it."
"Cleon-" you plea was cut by his voice.
"How much time do we have?"
"I don't know, a couple of days at last."
"Then do it. You said you were to decide when and how you would die, this is the time," he remembered with a stern voice. "Take it."
You let out a shaky breath and pushed him to press your lips to his own, like saying goodbye. But you still would not accept this fate. Not like this. You kissed him with hunger and need, your tongues tangled up as your mouths danced together.
"I just have- I can't yet," you mumbled once the kiss was over, leaving you both seeking for air. "Can we just fuck each others brains again and pretend none of this happened for a moment?" you asked against his lips, your hand now on his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face. You always remembered to help him shave and that was one of the most normal things you had to do since you found yourself confined with him. The most casual and mundane things to do became
He nodded. "Yes, my love.”
Cleon kissed your lips with the same hunger and desire, his hands caressing every inch of you until he lifted you up, your legs quickly went around his waist. With eyes closed, you let him guide you to the bar fixed against the wall of your ship.
He made sure to throw everything that was on the surface to the ground to place you in there. Once you were sitting, he pulled your legs apart to stand in the middle of them, and full with lust, his lips and teeth marked your neck and collarbone. You moaned sweetly, palming his groin still covered with the fabric of his pants. He traveled down your breasts, kissing over your shirt until he took it off. He was lucky you decided not to wear bra anymore. He sucked on your tits and nipples, grinding his hips against your hand.
You tried to pull his pants away, but he finished the job first, pulling away from your chest. After his pants were discarded, his shirt followed. He also got used to no underwear so he stood exposed all for you. A true god he was, looking perfect and like if every inch of his body was created for you to worship completely.
Cleon hurried in getting you out of your clothes, and in minutes you were naked and feeling his tongue dancing on your belly. His fingers and massive hands teasing your thighs, avoiding the place where you needed them the most. You moaned when he finally used a single digit to rub your slit, collecting your wetness. He rubbed your clit, mouth going slow and dangerously close to your pussy.
You laid your back on the bar and Cleon grabbed your thighs to have you exactly at the edge of the surface, ready to eat from your heat.
"Cleon," you cried out his name, your fingers tangled on his hair as his tongue licked your most sensitive parts.
He kept your hips in place, fucking you with his tongue and licking your folds, going to your clit. You couldn't help but whimper and moan, removing his hair to see just how much he yearned your cunt.
You tried to roll your hips but his grip was too strong. He looked up to lock his dark gaze with you, his humming creating strong vibrations down your core. He played some more, using a finger to tease your entrance. You were about to cum just by watching him.
"Cleon, please-" you gasped when he inserted a finger inside you, thrusting slowly. "Please, I want to taste you too."
He stopped, looking your flushed face for a moment. Your eyes were begging to suck him right now. He released your pussy with an obscene sound, pulling his tongue and hand away, but your wetness still shined on him. You got on the ground with his help and started to kneel down, kissing his skin, from his chest and then abdomen, licking and biting to leave your marks on his sculptured muscles. You made sure to adore and suck the skin of his navel, knowing he was insecure with not having a belly button. Still without it, he was more human than he could ever get to accept because you have seen that on him.
Cleon grunted once your hand wrapped around him, his hand on your scalp. You gave him a far from innocent look from your position before licking the head, rolling your tongue around it, lubing it with your saliva. His desperate groans led you to wrap your lips around him, pumping with your hand what you couldn't reach with your throat yet. You had to learn he was big for you, so a little of warm up for your mouth was a good start.
He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips a little to go further, slowly, and you welcomed his cock with a small gag once he reached the back of your throat. He moaned darkly, your rubbed your thighs together when he started to fuck your mouth. Both his hands taking the sides of your head as you choked and gagged around his lenght. You felt him throbbing but he quickly pulled out, and left you empty and with drool falling from your lips, your pussy now aching and clenching around nothing.
"So beautiful," he purred, the touch on your scalp soft now. "But I want to finish inside you."
You nodded, obedient. Cleon helped you to sit down on the bar again, he stayed between your legs, spreading them wide, you held onto him, arms around his neck. He entered slowly, the warmth of your walls swallowing his cock, inch by inch, until it disappeared completely inside your dripping cunt.
You shivered, broken moans falling from your lips. Cleon muffled your low cries with kisses, waiting for you to get used to him.
"Fuck me, Cleon," you mumbled against his swollen lips.
He complied happily, thrusting and pounding into your heat, with a frenetic and brutal pace you had learn to love. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, yor nails scratching his arms and back. His cock touched all the right places inside you and he whispered sweet nothings into your skin, fucking you right under the light of the stars and the void of space.
He moaned along with you, wishing heaven or whatever it was after felt exactly like this. Like you, with your arms around him, your sweet voice calling his name lovingly and whimpering for more, giving your soul to him and only him. Your walls started to clench and his hips stuttered, aproaching a craving release. But in between, he heard a word against his ear you never mumbled before, turning his lustful eyes to you and slowing down his thrusts.
You repeated it again, he was visibly confused but kept ruting into you.
"My name," you said, fingers now caressing his hair.
He smiled. He knew it now. The stranger who saved him had a name after all. Cleon kissed you fiercely, repeating your name again and again between wet kisses. You were close to release, feeling one of his digits rubbing your clit as you moaned together. The wave of electricity took your body first, clenching your pussy around his cock. Cleon followed soon after, rhythm slow and tense muscles, until he spilled inside you, coating your sensitive cunt with his seed.
Catching your breath, you remained together. He sucked on your neck softly, your name was the only thought inside his mind. And as much as you loved his touch on you, you remembered there was something to do still.
"Cleon," you called, getting his attention and feeling he was pulling out of you with a low groan. He looked at you with loving eyes and you smiled. You brushed his hair with your fingers pulling him to yet another smooth kiss. "It's time."
He knew it was. In silence his fingers found his earring, twitsting it and pulling it apart. He took it from his ear and placed it on yours carefully. You were always amazed at his touch, how rough and yet soft and gentle he could be.
"So you can remember me," he smiled when he was over. You let out a laugh and curved your llps in a grin. "It suits you."
"Thanks, Cleon."
Cleon leaned down to kiss you one more time before cleaning both of you. You dressed together as if you were not about to meet finally death. For some reason, you saved everything that was not on their cabinets or initial positions, packing all you could, like if you could take those belongings with you, most of which were from your family. One day Cleon asked why you had clothes that could meet his height, being taller than a lot of people around. You told him it was from your best friend. You thought every piece of clothes or souvenirs would help someday, but it never crossed your mind that it was going to be this way.
When everything was was done, you and Cleon settled in front of the control panel, however, before you could start the holo, a loud explosion could be heard. You frowned, turning to Cleon.
"Did you-? Ah!"
The ship almost overturned as something heavy hit the side, making you trip and fall over with Cleon on the ground. Again, an explosion was heard, far from the ship but clear enough to say it was getting closer, and seconds later, the ship got hit but this time on the glass, almost breaking it over. Quickly, you both stood up and saw what was happening.
"A black hole..."
"Look, there are debris around," you pointed a huge piece that looked the size of your ship, but that definitely was part of a much bigger one. You saw the debris and metal being swallowed and destroyed by the black hole. It wasn't pacing fast, but wasn't slow either. It looked like it was talking its time for much bigger things to eat, such as your ship. Cleon called you, taking your hands and pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel he was shaking, and your skin grew cold. You realised it was really happening now.
"Do it," he said. "Destroy the ship."
After a moment of hesitation, you gave a nod. He kissed you deeply again. You turned the holo to activate the ship and program its own destruction.
"Self-destruction mechanism activated," the computer confirmed.
"We have sixty seconds," you mumbled, tears already forming in your eyes. He cut you off with a kiss. You would miss those warm lips on yours.
"That's enough for me," he said. You smiled and he did the same.
"I love you, Cleon," you embraced his body with a hug. "I am happy I met this kind of pain with you."
He cupped your cheeks, pecking your lips, smiling down at you, saying I love you too. You, the one who saved him and gave him a second chance. Or at least a moment of relief. A place and a person who allowed him to be himself and find things he never knew would have.
"We have more in common now," he whispered. "We are both alone and hurting somewhere in the galaxy.”
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Okay the main reason that you should read Infinity Inc. Do you like cute college students who are fun together? Do you like found family? Do you like your favorite characters being friends forever and nothing bad happening to them at all? 
Well TOO BAD! If you read Infinity Inc. your favorite character has a 92% chance of either dying or going evil! You will love these stupid children and you will be so upset that DC refuses to have an actual full Infinity Inc. Reunion and instead decides that every few years former members should attempt to murder each other. 
For characters you have: Boy with daddy issues, other boy with daddy issues, gay angry boy with daddy issues, (unfortunately not canon gay yet) boy with EVIL daddy issues, and 7’6” himbo. It’s just... daddy issues all the way down. Also sexist 1940s man who is incredibly annoying. Jennifer-Lynn Hayden, or Jade, who you should all know, and frankly I think if your only exposure to Jen is Kyle Green Lantern you should be OBLIGATED to read Infinity Inc. I have seen some awful stuff flung around about her by Kyle fans. “Jade is only important to comics to tie Kyle to Alan and since she can’t do that properly she might as well stay dead” and that’s just what I’m willing to quote. 
Read Jennie-Lynn RIGHT NOW to properly appreciate her or learn to keep her name out of your mouth. I say while shipping her other ex with her dad and her brother. 
Lyta Trevor who has been through so much and deserves so much more than being hated because of Sandman, you do not know Lyta and you have not read her struggles, how dare you, I am assigning you the homework of Read Infinity Inc. or shut up. 
Okay that is the big sexisms it’s time to get to the big homophobias, or both. Hey remember how the mini series that Beth and Yolanda were killed off in either heavily implied that they were dating or ramped up the sexual tension so much that it seems that they are. I think you should read Infinity Inc. and join me in demanding that Geoff Johns brings back that relationship. Yeah it would be cute. 
Read Infinity Inc. now to fall in love with the cutest college age idiots you’ve ever read, ship a ship that is definitely considered problematic now (it’s Hank and Todd I don’t mean problematic problematic I mean, my god people are weird about non-canon gay ships involving canon gay characters, they just have a ridiculous amount of UST and you have to understand Hank was absolutely in love with both twins you have to you have to), be destroyed by the only death in the main series as you learn to care about them all, and also read further in the main characters lives and see the horrible shit they all but especially Hank gets subjected to... 
I forgot someone... 
MISTER BONES 
MOST IMPORTANTLY 
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Infinity Inc. is the origin of this meme!
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befuddledcinnamonroll · 3 months
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Random BL Superlatives: 2023
I'll still probably do a proper wrap-up post at year's end, but I adore this idea by @lurkingshan, so thought I would toss out a few of my own.
Character who most needs an immediate spinoff: Nawin from Laws of Attraction
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I need more of our unhinged himbo and his crew of loyal idiots. I'm thinking something along the lines of an uptight young cop comes to town to investigate, gets his world mind-blowingly rocked mentally and physically, and leaves the force to join his himbo on a life of wild crime.
Best chewing of the scenery: Wayne Song in Kiseki: Dear to Me
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I know some people thought it was too much, but my beloved Wayne can do whatever he wants. He was clearly having the best time going all in on the unhinged energy of Zhang Teng, and I love that for him.
BL boy I most want to feed soup and give a warm hug to:
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As I mentioned in my carnal list, there are a lot of cuties out there that I can appreciate, but also kinda look like babies to me because of their age. Khaotung is one of them. I love him, he's gorgeous, and a brilliant actor, but I just want to take care of him. Give him a cinnamon roll character like Gaipa, and I'm lost. Let me feed and cuddle you!
Best saving grace in a mediocre series: Bosston in Be Mine Superstar
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I did a whole post about my love for Bosston and getting to see him sink his teeth (and entire body) into a role like Muang. As much as I like Ja & First, they felt underwritten and forgettable. But Bosston made the watch worth it. (And we're getting him & Jo in another series, woop, woop!).
Moment that most sticks in my head from this year: Chen Yi & Ai Di in Kiseki: Dear to Me
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Honestly, this series and this couple did me in so many times, but there is something about this scene in particular. Chen Yi's smirk knowing he's got Ai Di where he wants him, the fact that he's been practicing eating spicy food just for this very moment, the ease with how he lifts Ai Di, how Ai Di can't help himself from putting his arms around Chen Yi. So unwell.
This is a close second:
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The Best non-BL BL relationship: Khatha & Dome in Midnight Museum
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Brothers, my hiney. Also give us our sequel!
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your-local-hoemie · 9 months
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ꕥ Genshin Impact ꕥ boyfriend headcanons, Inazuma edition~ part two.
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Firstly, why is Itto so pretty in this gif???
Who gave this man the right?????
Secondly, thank you all for 100 followers!!! I honestly didn’t think anyone would really like my writing but knowing that you do makes it even more fun! And ya’ll are all so nice too like I don’t deserve this what T-T
Summary: literally the title.
Warnings: fluff, maybe a lil’ suggestive??, swearing, established relationship, Gn!reader, not proof-read.
Characters: Itto, Ayato, Gorou. (I’m classing scara (aka, wanderer) as a Sumeru citizen now since he’s a new, good boy! What i still wouldn’t give for him to crush me)
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Itto~
God bless this man.
He’s so precious.
He openly adores everything you do.
Walked up a bunch of stairs without dying?
You can bet your sweet buns that this man is going to be awe struck.
He’s very strong and even though he acts like a himbo, he’s still got his head in a good place (kinda)
(He’s a complete fucking idiot)
But he is the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend!
Give him head pats and tell him he’s a good boy and he’s mush in your arms!
Boy will go all out on dates hsiduxid
Most of the time they don’t go as planned but you can’t even get mad when he still somehow manages to pull a successful “plan numero two-o” out of nowhere.
Kuki has become his go-to advisor for romance!
She doesn’t know much bless her but she knows more than him jdjdjdhdurj
Man doesn’t get jealous.
He’s too oblivious-
If someone starts flirting with you he’ll probably just join in.
“You think they’re great too?? What am I saying, of course you do! How could you not think that they’re the coolest, most awesomest partner ever!”
Bless his heart I love him T-T
He lets you polish his horns-
He lets you polish his horns.
It might not seem like much but he’s so proud of them that it’s a literal honour-
Loves it when you pet them too or put little jewellery around them!
Honestly I think he’s a really good kisser.
Don’t ask why but he just gives off that vibe.
He’s also been roping you into beetle fights.
Which he totally wins every time!
He doesn’t. You let him win occasionally.
He once found a super cool looking beetle and named it after you!!
He always makes sure to take extra good care of it just because of that.
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Ayato~
Imma be honest, if I see this man pull boba out of his arm one more time and make that slurp I might lose it-
I’m not too familiar with his character but my best friend has a intense crush on him so i will get scolded if I make this is too inaccurate.
I know this sounds absurd but istg I will bet everything that this man has social anxiety.
I can smell my people.
He’s just really good at hiding it with his duties!
And you’re the only one who gets to see that side of him because he trusts you more than anyone T-T
Man is extremely busy so dates are rare but he still somehow manages to make time!
A privilege that’s only shared with Ayaka who absolutely adores you!!
She also absolutely wasn’t a little jealous of her brother hdbfhdj
He adores the little things you do!
Like, absolutely worships them!
If you decided to make him the ugliest drawing known to man kind he will frame it and look at it at least twice a day.
He taught you to play chess and much to thoma’s dismay, he taught you extremely well.
Poor boy hasn’t won in months.
Always offers you a taste of his magical sleeve boba!
How it stays fresh, no one knows.
He’s an absolute gentleman!
Hand kisses whenever he greets you, without fail!
Always insist on getting you little trinkets or jewellery!
He thinks you deserve it ok, just accept it-
Always talks about you to thoma and Ayaka!
He wants to make sure you know how much he loves you!!
He is a little possessive over you-
He means no harm by it but he can’t help his sly, mischievous side show a little bit.
“Come now, is that really any way to talk to my future spouse? Hm? Yes I did call you that, do you object, dearest~?”
Just cuts into the conversation with the offending person and grabs you by the waist with zero shame-
Do it back-
It’ll shut him up really quick~
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Gorou~
Just like Ayato, I’m not super familiar with his personality hngggg.
Let’s get it out the way, shall we?
Tail.
Ears.
I NEED TO PET HIM!!!!!!
And lucky you!
You get to pet him!!
Yes he allows you to touch the ears.
Maybe be careful with the tail though cough cough
He whimpers
Beach dates aaaAAAA!
He’s constantly in work mode but he does his best to relax!
He loves making seashell necklaces with you and just taking walks together while talking!
Poor boy gets very flustered very easily.
He knows his tail gives off his emotions way too easily and you’re always super quick to tease him about it.
Evil.
He’s a thigh person and you can’t convince me otherwise.
Let him lay in your lap, please.
He’s also super ticklish-
Don’t ask, he just looks the type.
He can’t help but melt into a flustered mess whenever you’re around!
Which of course he gets teased for mercilessly by the rest of the soldiers.
But saying that, he will never be embarrassed by admitting he loves you!
He believes strongly in being open about how you feel.
Always brings you freshly picked flowers whenever you meet up!
He is really strong though, don’t be fooled by his fluff.
One of the reasons he loves you so much is because you never see him as just a pet.
He also asks you to study with him when kokomi lets him read her books!
You’d be amazed by how focused this man can get when in serious mode istg not even a earthquake could shake him.
“Huh? I love you but come on, do I really have to remind you again? It’s vital that we always keep our minds sharp even if there’s no visible threat! Leave the poor lizards alone-”
His patience with you is incredible.
He doesn’t get jealous easily but he does get a little insecure sometimes!
He’ll never cause a scene with it but he will be open with how he feels.
He hates the idea of arguing so he’ll always bring it up in a polite way!
He’s always super respectful of you and will quickly scold anyone who acts differently~
He’s a very good and very precious baby~
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IM ALIVE!!! Well, kinda. I’m back at home but I got a lot of recovery to do and when I tell ya’ll that it is frUSTRATING! So writing is a good distraction!
I’m still gonna be taking my time though since my energy is completely gone not to mention I’m not allowed to get too excited since it raises my heart rate so the genshin men might actually end up killing me gdjsgHDJSH
Not that I’d mind either-
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scaralvr · 1 year
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07. mystery man chapter seven to the secrecy of our confessions [masterlist]
synopsis: scaramouche decides to go to the music room to leave a letter of his love confession in your locker but instead, finds an awful surprise awaiting him.
"what are you still doing up?"
scaramouche was taken by surprise by mona's murmuring as she lazily sat up in bed. "none of your business," he spat and continued to write something on a paper. whatever it was that he was writing, it sure was alot. "turn off your lamp. some people are trying to sleep." mona said, her tone flat but demanding. fischl loudly snored and scaramouche rolled his eyes.
he made no signs of turning off the lamp anytime soon. mona clenched her jaw and turned it off herself, only for him to turn it back on. mona's eye twitched and she pulled on the chain of the lamp, the lightbulb's luminosity going out. as soon as scaramouche let go of his paper to try and turn it off, mona snatched it from his lap.
"GIVE-" scaramouche instantly slapped his hand over his mouth as fischl turned in her sleep. mona snickered, "i wonder what this is, hm?" she teasingly circled him with the delicate paper in her hands and scaramouche lunged forward to grab it but fell on his bed as she stepped out of the way.
he narrowed his eyes in pure anger, "you..." scaramouche ran and quickly grabbed onto it, but her hands were still on the other end. her smirk fell when she noticed the distress in her brother's eyes. "don't you fucking dare rip it. please." scaramouche begged through heavy exhales. mona's eyelids lowered and she let go. he sighed in relief and plopped onto his bed.
"what even is it?" she asked as she went back to her own bed, pretending not to care about the way he seemed like he would've cried if she ripped it. mona tucked herself beneath her blanket and scaramouche clicked his pen, "none of your business." she scoffed, "you barely tell me anything. c'mon, i won't tell anyone." scaramouche groaned underneath his breath, "why would i tell you anything? you're so annoying." mona hummed in agreement.
she shifted her gaze to the ceiling. "i'll tell you one of my secrets if you tell me what you're writing," mona suggested, causing scaramouche to look up from his paper. "why does it matter so much to you that you're offering something like that?" he sputtered out in bewilderment. mona shrugged, "i'm bored. so, will you take it?" scaramouche warily squinted. "okay, fine." he put his paper aside and faced her.
mona sat up in her bed and criss-crossed her legs. "remember the party i went to a few months ago?" she asked with a serious face. scaramouche rolled his eyes, "uh, yeah. the one at heizou's? i didn't speak to you for a week because of that." mona waved it off, "yeah, yeah, anyways, they hosted a seven minutes in heaven game and guess who i got stuck with." scaramouche pretended to look shocked, "oh my days, i don't know, that himbo, itto?"
mona leaned in and whispered, "kuki shinobu is such a good kisser, okay? no homo, of course." scaramouche furrowed his brows together and his jaw dropped, "kuki shinobu? God, you're such a bisexual." she threw a pillow at his face, yelling, "shut up!" fischl mumbled incoherent words, causing the twins to tense up.
"but that's that. now tell me what you were writing," mona said with a wide grin, giggles slipping out every now and then. scaramouche's cheeks flushed, "well... um..." he hid the paper to his chest, "what about i just tell you a secret of mine?" mona deadpanned and he groaned, "okay, okay." scaramouche pursed his lips in hesitation. "it's a love confession for (y/n)."
mona immediately squealed, "IT'S A LOVE CONFESSION FOR (Y/N)!?" she kept on laughing and scaramouche's face was painted a deep red. "shut up, shut up, idiot!" he hissed as a warning. but it was too late. ei slammed the door open, her eyes narrowed and her lips in a sour frown. fischl sat up from the loud noise of the door meeting the wall and she stupidly looked around in a half-conscious state. ei flared her nostrils. "go to SLEEP!" she yelled, startling all three of them as they panicked in response, "YES, MOTHER!"
"(y/n)!~" yoimiya giggled, clinging onto you. you smiled, "hello, 'miya. do you need anything?" you asked and the blonde suddenly got onto her knees, clasping her hands together. "(Y/N), COULD YOU PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE TAKE CARE OF MUSIC ROOM DUTY TODAY!? I KNOW IT'S MY TURN BUT I REALLY DON'T WANT TO!" she cried out, scooching closer to you. you yelped, "calm down! there's people in the hallways!" yoimiya continued to beg, however. "PLEASE!~ I'LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU FOR A WHOLE MONTH JUST PLEASE!-" she's stopped short when you cover her mouth in a frenzy.
you sighed, "alright, i'll do it." yoimiya jumped up and hugged you, "YAY! THANKS SO MUCH!" she ran off and left you there, confused. as yoimiya rounded a corner, scaramouche slapped some money into her hand when she passed by. "thanks," he said, to which yoimiya replied with a thumbs up gesture, "good luck!"
"ah, i wonder what that girl is up to this time." you wondered, making your way up the stairs. unbeknownst to you, a certain student council president had his eyes set on you from the start. ayaka came out of nowhere, meeting you at the top. "(y/n), perfect timing!" she exclaimed and continued, "i need your help, i forgot how to use the hand dryers again..." ayaka murmured.
you chuckled, "alright, i'll come along." ayaka allowed you to go first and she peered at the end of the staircase, giving scaramouche the time to sneak into the music room. she quickly handed him the key as he swiftly brushed by. scaramouche closed the door behind him and didn't waste any time in finding your locker.
"239... 239..." he muttered, brows knitted together in concentration as he scanned the lockers against the wall. scaramouche's eyes lit up, "ha!" he fumbled with your code, which yun jin gave him, and swung the door open. he felt himself blush. he was looking through his favourite drummist's locker. the door was decorated with a variety of magnets, which held polaroid photos of you and your friends on different occasions.
a soft smile upcurved his lips when he found a photo of you as a child with ayaka and ayato, as it seems ayato was teaching you how to ride a bike while ayaka cheered you on. scaramouche was quick to snap out of it. "i'm such a creep," he winced, and was bound to place the letter in your locker when the doors opened out of the blue.
you looked around the music room with a blank expression. you sighed, "no one's here." you made your way to your locker and lifted up your hand to open it, only for another hand to place itself on yours. you quickly turned around at the sudden contact and dashing purple hues gazed into yours. "cyno!" you exclaimed in surprise. "that's my name." cyno said, removing his hand from yours.
scaramouche had his hand over his mouth, watching from the inside of your locker through the gaps. "you scared me!" you complained as you punched him in the arm. cyno didn't move, nor did he flinch. he just allowed the hit to happen and tilted his head, "i was wondering if you were possibly free this saturday? i would love to spend some time with you. it's been a while, after all." scaramouche narrowed his eyes, 'who does this guy think he is?'
you looked elsewhere in thought, "saturday? yes, i believe i'm free to spend a day with you." cyno smiled, "okay. so it's a date?" you gawked and your face flushed, "a date!?" cyno gently held your hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. "a date." he repeated and you swore your heart felt like it was about to pop out of your chest from the rapid beating. scaramouche's gaze darkened and a gasp slipped from his lips.
"i'll see you then, (y/n). we'll have alot to catch up on," cyno said, leaving the room and you as a flustered mess. you didn't reply and watched him close the doors. scaramouche didn't even notice the way he was clutching the letter so hard, it completely crumpled. you murmured, "how odd... it's not like him to ask someone out so abruptly like that. but it's cyno, after all." you tensed up when you realized. "HAH, WAIT! I'M BEING SO UNFAITHFUL TO MY TRUE LOVE RIGHT NOW!" you panicked, holding your head in your hands.
scaramouche was beyond confused. 'true love? hold on, that's right. they previously mentioned that they had a sort of liking for someone with two sisters. cyno, however, doesn't meet that standard.' he went into deep thought, surveying your behaviour. you paced back and forth as you mumbled words scaramouche couldn't hear, much to his dismay. "please forgive me for what i'm about to do, scaramouche. you'll still be my future husband... hopefully i don't end up falling in love with cyno," you whimpered and rested your head against the wall in defeat.
the puny letter scaramouche made became nothing to him. his eyes scanned the paper in his hands. 'how stupid.' he shoved it down his pocket, 'to think that (y/n) would ever give me a chance was insane in the first place. a nice person like that cyno guy made them weak in the knees with just a few words and he had the courage to give them a kiss. for all i know, (y/n) hates me just as much as anyone else does.' scaramouche tucked his bottom lip beneath his teeth, struggling to keep his sobs to a silence as tears poured down his cheeks.
"HOW WAS IT!?" ayaka, yun jin, hu tao and yoimiya were waiting for him outside of the music room when he exited. scaramouche didn't reply and his glare sent a chill down their spines. he walked past them and went down the stairs to leave the school as the bell rang. ayaka softly cried, "this isn't right... (y/n)'s infatuated with him. what went wrong?" yoimiya ran into the music room and examined your locker. yun jin and ayaka followed suit as yoimiya opened it.
hu tao frowned, "ugh. he didn't leave the letter." yun jin's eyes grew wide, "what!? but he was so set on doing it! he even got us involved!" hu tao slammed your locker shut, "it's obvious he chickened out." yoimiya yelped, "hey! you shouldn't say things like that, hu tao! maybe he just needs more time." hu tao crossed her arms and seethed, "you can't talk, 'miya. even if he did give (y/n) the letter and they accepted it, would we really want them dating him?"
ayaka stammered, "wh-what's that supposed to mean? we thought you wanted this like we did from the start-" hu tao slapped her hand on her chest, "oh, we? since when was it we!? you guys have always been like this! you never hear me out and it's clear you don't understand what a bad influence he is on (y/n)!" she shouted as tears began to peek at the corners of her eyes, "he's such an asshole, that's why! you don't know what he did to me!"
the three watched in shock as hu tao wiped her tears. yun jin slowly reached out to her, "hu tao..." but hu tao slapped her hand away and picked up her guitar case on the way to run out of the room. ayaka yelled in worry, "hu tao!-" she was stopped by yun jin holding onto her shoulder. "let her go, ayaka. she'll come to us when she feels ready." she solemnly said. yoimiya nodded, "yeah, don't worry! this isn't the end of our friendship yet..."
hu tao sniffled where she sat at the bottom of the stairs with her guitar on the floor. she continued to cry, not caring whether anyone could see her at anytime. "what are you doing, idiot?" the familiar voice of her older brother rang through her ears and she grumbled, "go away." xiao rolled his eyes, shrugging as he stepped down the stairs, "i'm supposed to be the one telling you that." he seated himself next to her and hu tao looked at him with teary scarlet eyes.
xiao hesitantly held out his arms and hu tao threw herself onto him, bawling, "i hate them! i hate them so much! they don't know how i feel and they would never understand all because (y/n) likes him so they'll believe i should keep quiet for their own good!" xiao frowned, "...they've been your friends since you were little, hu tao. i'm sure they wouldn't act that way if you told them about it. and recently, you've been telling me about the way scaramouche has changed lately. what happened?"
hu tao sourly added, "but seeing him like (y/n) made me feel so... so... disgusted! he doesn't deserve them, whether he's changed or not." xiao's shoulders raised, "you should give him a chance, hu tao. you should wait-" hu tao huffed, "wait until what? until he breaks their heart?" xiao put his hand on her head, "wait until you see the major changes. trust me, you'll know when a person has changed."
"kunikuzushi! how did it g-" mona startled when scaramouche shut their bedroom door on her. she stepped back a few times before kicking the door open. "leave. me. alone." he growled into his pillow, but he couldn't hide the cries releasing from his lips. mona leaned against the doorway, "oh, baby brother. did they turn you down?" scaramouche turned to face her, "no, are you stupid!? as if anyone would... would reject... me..." his sobs got the best of him and mona approached him with gentle tuts.
mona engulfed him in her embrace as she sat on the bed, "shh, shh..." she scoffed, "you're so ugly when you cry." scaramouche groaned and mona teasingly added, "can't take a joke?" she paused before continuing, "tell me what happened." scaramouche inhaled her scent. a light perfume that smelt of strawberries. he shakily exhaled and his words were in a broken form, "do you think anyone likes me? anyone who's not desperate enough to get in bed?" mona hummed, "of course, kunikuzushi. there's always going to be people like that."
"i don't deserve (y/n), do i?" scaramouche mumbled.
© scaralvr.
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notebookofthedead · 3 months
Text
This idea still won't leave me alone, so here's a rough outline to flesh it out
[Edit: ... by outline, I apparently meant rough draft. I am not going to polish this. I am not going to polish this. I am not going to polish this. By all the Gods, I am not going to take on another WIP -]
Disclaimer: This is not a professional review/critique of the Castlevania games or the animated adaptations, nor is this intended to be a critique at all. This outline is purely what I would do if I were to turn this concept into an actual project. If you would like to make this fanfic a reality, please do! I would love to see it!! Just be sure to credit me if you directly take from my ideas, and pls send me a link so I can read it! 💜💜💜
Btw, we're tweaking canon to align with my personal preferences 🤷
Alternatively titled: "Video Game!Trevor travels across space and time to teach his Netflix counterpart how to be a proper murder himbo"
Bc this got so inordinately long, I will only be covering S1 for now. For the first two seasons of the show, I feel like the biggest differences caused by CoD!Trevor's presence would not directly pertain to the overall plot, but to individual character arcs, and especially the way the main trio interacts with each other. The plot would only truly start to go off the rails after Dracula's death so p much what the show already did nbd
And yes, I do have ideas for what changes CoD!Trevor would cause, intentionally or not, in the later seasons, but we'll see if I write that out, let alone to the degree that I did S1 lol
Season 1
The First Meeting
Our story starts as all good adventures do: in a bar
A young man sits at a table, drowning himself in ale, vaguely listening to two of the few other patrons in this backwater establishment talk about goat-fucking. He calls for another ale, when a villager rushes through the door in a panic, claiming the horde's been spotted heading in their direction, on its way to Greşit. Good riddance, one of them says, good riddance to all those poor nobles quivering in their lavish mansions
All well and good, ragging on the rich, but then the guy says something about House Belmont, and honestly, he's gonna have to be drunker for this
As the young man searches for his coin purse, one of the other patrons - the owner of the unfortunate goat - catches sight of the family crest on his shirt. He tries to brush it off, but the goat farmer recognizes that damnable crest and won't let it go
"You're a Belmont! Belmont family, House of Belmont -!" He shoves the man, his cousin (half-brother?) coming up to flank him
"Now, hold on a second," a new voice cuts in
This man is tall, of a similar height to the first, but far leaner next to the supposed Belmont's tank-like build. If not for the firmness of his muscles, he could have been described as lanky. Yet, his build is not that of a naturally scrawny man, but of one who has had to make do with very little. What with the shaggy mess of his unusually long hair, the ghastly scars tearing across the left side of his face, and the thin grin which stretches and distorts them into even uglier shapes, he looks like a wolf in the dead of winter. Feral and half-starved. Hungry for blood.
The first man, the inebriated fellow who unwittingly started this whole mess, has no fucking clue how he missed a person like that sitting in the tavern for God knows how long. Now that he has noticed him, it's as if his every repressed instinct is going off at once. A symphony of alarm bells blasting through his head.
"You say he is a Belmont? There is one way to prove such a - heavy accusation." Though he speaks in a measured tone, the type that commands armies and cues even the dimmest of idiots to shut up, his grin widens, knife sharp. His eyes gleam as, in a fraction of an instant, he hefts the mighty axe from his back and slams it down flat on the bar top, jostling the wooden cups
Numbly, the man slurs out: "You want to fight me." Of course he does, because that's the last thing Trevor needs in this already shit situation, a thrill-seeker looking to best the "Last Belmont"
Smile dimming, gaze narrowing, he inclines his chin. "You say that as if you don't. Come on, we'll even be proper about it." Before he can get a word in, the other man yanks off his glove and tosses it on the ground before him. "I challenge you, son of House Belmont, to a duel. Right here, right now... Or, in the yard outside. Out of respect for the barkeeper." He nods in the keep's direction, whose shoulders lower with relief
The village men have settled down, yet they look between the two with unfiltered anticipation. It's probably the most exciting thing that's happened in this shithole hamlet in ages - well, that hasn't been related to Dracula's ongoing assault on all human life. If he takes the gauntlet, Trevor doubts they'll attack him, not when this stranger has willingly volunteered, but if he doesn't, all bets are off
Fuck it.
So that's how Trevor ends up standing outside the bar in the middle of the night, halfway to blackout drunk, swaying on his feet, yet still expected to dance with an axe-wielding maniac. He gives a silent prayer - plead, more like - to his ancestors, not for his life oddly enough, but for his dignity. Don't let me look like an idiot. Please, don't let me ruin our legacy more than I already have.
And then it starts
The man, he's more of a beast than anything. He fights as if over the last scrap of meat, as if defeat would mean death. His axe is lined with serrated teeth, his weapon a starving maw; it tears through earth and stone like butter. Trevor's short sword brings him far too close for comfort, so he's forced to use his whip to try and disarm him. It wraps around the axe handle, leather ensnaring wood, and Trevor pulls as hard as he can, but the other man pulls harder, sending his opponent flying into a pile of horse shit. He doesn't have time to get the taste off his tongue before there's an axe flying directly at his neck
Dodging, Trevor expects a brief window of opportunity as the man retrieves his weapon. Yet, the reality is nothing if not unexpected. Rather than hunt down his axe, the man pulls out a set of throwing knives and starts flinging them like candy at children. A knife for you, a knife for you - a brick wall, a wooden stall, the cobblestone beneath Trevor's feet
As Trevor keeps running, keeps stumbling the best he can, the peanut gallery keeps shouting increasingly violent requests: "Kick him in the balls!" "Knock out his teeth!" "Rip 'is ear off!" and it just gets worse. His opponent seems to feed off of it, the clamor, as he sends Trevor packing without breaking a sweat, without dropping the smile from his jagged features. He even laughs, coarse but joyous, when Trevor ducks behind the half wall of the stable, just for a moment, just to catch his breath
"Is this how a Belmont acts?" he taunts. "You hide and quiver, like a scared little boy? Get back here and fight me like a man."
He can't do this. Oh God, he can't do this. He's going to die out there, his drunken mind insists. He's going to die smelling of horse shit and covered in his own vomit
"Look, I'll even be generous: no more weapons. I will drop mine if you will drop yours, and we will start again. Just our own strength." A tumultuous clatter hits the ground shortly thereafter
Another breath, another gasp. He gave his word. He said he would see this stupid duel to the end, whether he wanted to or not. He doubts it means very much, but it's all he has. Not his dignity, not his home or his family, sure as hell not his 'moral purity.' But his word? Even at his lowest, he has never gone back on a promise
Trevor drops the whip
Stepping out from the stall, he sees the man standing there, the rest of his knives scattered around him. His smile is the only blade left, and oh how deadly it must be. Another second and they're on each other, Trevor with his fists raised
The kick hits before he can get within punching distance. He falls to the floor, first on his knees, then his side, clutching his gut with the distinct feeling that he is about to dredge back up every single thing he's ever eaten. Well, so much for not wanting to die covered in his own vomit
That's the last thought he has before unconsciousness takes him
A Strange Man
He wakes to the song of crows and the orange light of dawn. Somewhere nearby, someone is... carving wood? At least, that's what it sounds like. He confirms it, glancing toward the noise and seeing not just a small knife whittling at a piece of wood, but the man himself. The stranger who put him in his current state, where every muscle hurts and his skull feels ready to burst
A man who, as his sober (albeit hungover) mind can now register, moves at a speed just slightly beyond that of a normal human, and whose smile is sharp not only from menace but because his eyeteeth end in the barest points. Come morning, the jagged claw marks raking through his cheek and onto his brow look no better than they did in the dead of night
He does not feel the tell-tale sting of a bite wound. That, plus the fact that he can clearly see the stranger does not burn in sunlight, is what stays his hand. Though, he is relieved to feel his short sword and his whip back on his person
"Good morning," the man says. "I must admit, that was not the most pathetic attempt at combat I have seen in my life, but it came close."
His name is Ralph - at least, that is what he says. He's as cagey as he is rude, refusing to give any information about who he is or where he comes from, although admittedly, Trevor is much the same. What makes it worse, in his opinion, is that Ralph acts far too familiar with him. His insults are not from a place of disgust or even dislike, but are more akin to a cat playing with its favorite toy
"My friend," he calls Trevor, who immediately denies it. "No, you are right," he then tsks. "All my friends can at least match me in battle."
Speaking of, the next thing Trevor cannot understand about Ralph is the way he talks about their 'spar'
"You're still upset about that? I thought I was quite generous, to not fling you into a brick wall."
"But a pile of horseshit?" Trevor crosses his arms. He can still taste it, ugh. "Not to mention when you nearly beheaded me."
And he - he just shrugs with that stupid smirk. "It was all in good fun. You're still attached at the neck, aren't you?"
Then, there's the kicker:
"You defeated me, fair enough. Why do you want me to kill Dracula?"
"You are a Belmont! That is what Belmonts do," he says as if the very thought of a Belmont daring to do otherwise is ridiculous to him. "And besides, you will not be doing it alone. There are countless warriors who would gladly fight by your side, myself included."
This man is insane, Trevor thinks as they traipse through the forest. Completely fucking deranged. He seriously believes in the glorious Belmonts, defenders of the people, hunters of the Night. Well, he's in for a rude awakening as soon as they get to Greşit - because, yes, somehow Ralph has weaseled his way into going with Trevor to Greşit. He keeps insisting he can change Trevor's mind, but really, Trevor's just in it for some food. Fighting always burns more energy than he wants it to
Their arrival is met with screaming, but not because of them. They can't even get past the gate. It would seem the horde has already been here. Trevor is trying to figure out a way inside, when he looks down to see Ralph licking the night dark substance off his finger, which he presumably gathered from the puddle before him
Completely apathetic to Trevor's bafflement, he clicks his tongue a few times before announcing: "Gremlins."
Otherwise known as Grim Men, nasty little demons that feast on human babies and delight in tormenting their parents, as Trevor's memory begrudgingly supplies
"You could tell that from the blood? Doesn't it make you sick?"
Ralph does not blink, but does the objectively worse thing of staring unblinkingly at Trevor for far too long with those cold blue eyes, as if he's the one putting weird, unhealthy shit in his mouth. After at least a full minute, Ralph sighs and gestures him over
"Alright, lesson one." As soon as Trevor's within grabbing range, he grabs him by the wrist and manipulates his fingers to stick just his pointer into the puddle. Then, he shoves it toward Trevor's face
"What? No! Everyone knows demon blood is toxic -"
"To civilians, yes, but not to you. You'll be fine."
It takes quite a bit of struggling, but eventually Ralph does get Trevor to lick the gremlin blood. Immediately, Trevor has to run off to the nearest bush and vomit for the second time within twelve hours. When he stumbles back, Ralph's response is to grab Trevor's hand and do it all over again - thankfully not to the same result, though his otherwise empty stomach continues to riot. When he observes Trevor handling it better the second time, he nods approvingly
"Monster blood is an acquired taste, but it is one of the most useful skills in a hunter's arsenal. The more you expose yourself to, the better you will become at differentiating. Before long, you will identify your enemy from a single drop, the faintest whiff of their rot."
"... And it's not going to kill me?"
He honest-to-God rolls his eyes. "No, not in small quantities. Won't turn you either, not even if you bite a vampire on the cold, dead neck."
Trevor, he has heard stories like that before - before - - back when he was a child without shame. Of his ancestors being bitten on the neck, biting their attackers right back, and not paying the price. His aunts and uncles used to say it was a sign of God's favor, that Belmonts could never turn. Every priest he's asked has called it a sign that the Devil already lives in their blood, that there's nothing human left to turn
But, how does Ralph know about it?
The good news is they find a way in. The bad news: it's a sewer. Trevor supposes he shouldn't be surprised that a man who licks up monster blood - who does this without even being a Belmont, himself - gives neither shrug nor sneer as he hoists himself into the chute
The town is... it's not good. People are squatting in tents, since their homes have been destroyed. Blood spatters the streets and bodies pile up in the frozen canal. Still, the market is bustling as ever. Trevor begs himself some food (finally!) while Ralph wanders off to wherever, and while he's at it, he asks around about the state of things
As expected, the horde's been attacking every night at sundown and the townsfolk have been helpless to stop it. Many have turned to superstition, fairy tales, to save them: for some, that means holding out hope for a sleeping messiah; for others, it means sacrificing an innocent group of people on the Bishop's order
It's by pure chance that Trevor happens to be walking through the same alley as a couple of clergymen and an elderly speaker, judging by the blue of his robes. He... Perhaps he doesn't have to whip off a priest's finger, and the other one's eye, but he's a bit rusty, okay? Before the night he met Ralph, it'd been a while since he was last in a proper fight with someone who actually knew what they were doing. Run-of-the-mill bar brawls don't hold a candle to armed combat
He is a bit concerned to hear one of the Speakers has gone missing, but that's immediately overshadowed by a significantly greater concern when they arrive at the caravan to find Ralph already there, chatting up a storm. Trevor catches the tail end of a story that's got every Speaker in stitches when the Elder steps into the candlelight
Their laughter pitters out, and Trevor realizes it was a distraction from their own worry as they rush over. While the Speakers ensure their Elder is alright, Ralph appears at Trevor's side - appears, not approaches. Something seems to shift in the corner of his eye, and then suddenly the man's there
Fucking hell, he thinks as he tries desperately not to flinch out of his skin
"- thanks to this man," the Elder suddenly gestures at him. "Though, I fear there may be trouble ahead."
Ah, right. The priests. At least he didn't kill them? Trevor's not sure whether Ralph's huff is meant to cover a sense of disappointment or inappropriate humor. Either way, this town is not safe for them, any of them. Speakers may not be able to deny those in need, but people in power will not hesitate to kill those who defy them, and with everything going on, the local Bishop is aching for a scapegoat
As a Belmont, Trevor knows this well, and he knows what will happen if they don't leave
But of course, the missing Speaker is the Elder's grandchild. And they're not just going to leave without the kid's body. And, as Ralph so tactfully informs him upon their leaving the temporary dwelling, he had already signed them up for this retrieval expedition before Trevor arrived; he just wanted to let Trevor come to the same conclusion
With all luck, maybe he'll get to kill something. Zombies like to hang out in catacombs, right?
The Fires of Hell
Fuck catacombs. Sincerely, fuck these old, poorly maintained catacombs that keep crumbling beneath their feet. Trevor's concussion has a concussion; he doesn't get to kill any zombies; the deeper chambers are lit up with these strange, possibly magical lights perfectly fitting his family's descriptions of Castlevania; there's a bloody cyclops turning people to stone down here
Oh, and Ralph has magic! Somehow, that's the least surprising part of this
While Trevor scurries between pillars, Ralph thanks him for playing bait before - cackling - he wreathes himself in flames and sprints towards the cyclops. As the man's axe seems to grow twice as tall, as he slams its blade into the monster's ankle, and as the monster shrieks from both cuts and burns, Trevor can't help thinking, Oh. He was going easy on me.
Well, as if he's going to let his companion do all the heavy lifting
After some fumbling, it's Trevor who manages to launch his dagger right into the beast's eye, ending its life. It's also Trevor who catches the Elder's grandchild, once they - she - returns to flesh, that is until she withdraws for uh. A moment.
As the Speaker rids herself of the physical reminder of her terror, Trevor turns to the cyclops to find Ralph plucking his dagger from its eye. Quickly, he runs his tongue across the blade before he hands it back to Trevor, hilt first. Brow raised. Trevor sighs, but does give it an equally darting lick before he flicks the rest of the blood to the side. It's still gross, but at least he doesn't have to join the Speaker on the ground
"So what, are you two brothers?" she later asks
"No," they both say in perfect sync. Trevor points a thumb at Ralph. "I only met him last week."
"Three days ago, actually," yeah yeah thank you for the specifics
Now that they've found the Elder's grandchild, the Speakers should be able to leave, but Trevor's life is never that easy. The missing-and-newly-found - Sypha Belnades, not that it matters because they're supposed to be leaving - keeps insisting they need to go find that Sleeping Soldier, and Ralph is no help. Granted, he doesn't seem eager to back Sypha up, but he's equally reluctant to support Trevor and - damnit, why does he have to crack that stupid smirk as they're leaving the Speakers again, shrug and say "could be fun"? Being a Belmont (an excommunicant, an outcast, a monster) is not fun. He doesn't know who told Ralph it was
So then, of course, while he's already in a foul mood, that's when they get abducted by priests
Turns out, the Bishop's insane. Not that Trevor thought very highly of clergymen to begin with, but seriously? This was the man who killed Dracula's wife? No wonder he thinks killing the Speaker train will solve all his problems; he's just full of bad ideas, isn't he?
It is on this day Trevor realizes he has never known catharsis like that which he feels when Ralph, in his even, measured tone, the one that could command armies, the one that could cue even the dimmest of idiots to shut up, verbally tears the Bishop a new one
He is weaponless - the priests who abducted them made sure of that - but he is not without teeth. His scar is vicious rippling across his cheek, distorting with his half-moon grin as he points to it and declares: "This? This is a reminder of the true enemy. Not something so intangible as a lack of faith, but the clawing, hungry beasts which lurk outside your walls. You speak of heretics dirtying your city, colluding with the Devil, yet what am I? A heretic. One who has just as much reason to crave Dracula's head on a pike as you do. More, I would wager.
"I'm afraid this is not about religion," the way he says it sounds anything but. "This is about incompetence. You attacked a bear. The bear fights back. Somehow, you have convinced yourself and everyone else that the fault belongs to an uninvolved third party, who had nothing to do with the bear, and if you kill that bystander to offer up as sacrifice, the rampaging beast calling for your blood will spare you."
"It's pathetic."
The words leave Trevor before he can think to speak. Meeting Ralph's gaze, cold with the same anger that's frozen his own veins, he doesn't regret them. In fact, he continues. He releases from a place deep inside him, the ugly, festering thing he locked away ages ago, and long thought he'd destroyed the key
"My family committed no crime. You people simply decided we were wrong to defend this land against the supernatural, and now -"
Perhaps it's a hidden blessing that the Bishop interrupts him, though he's not sure he believes in such things. Had he been permitted to go on, he doesn't know what would have come out, let alone whether he'd be able to lock it up again
They leave quietly, though as they do, Ralph spits on the steps of the church the way his grandparents would spit at the mention of bloody Dracula. Full of an ancient hate. Trevor takes but a moment before joining him, giving the stained glass windows an additional "fig" for good measure
"Remember this, Belmont," Ralph says lowly, his hand clasped on Trevor's shoulder. "It is not about the ideas they weaponize against us." Beyond the claw marks, the look he gives him is a sword left in a snowdrift, its blade just managing to reflect the dying sun. A warning.
"Remember the true enemy."
Incompetence. This Bishop is incompetent, yet he's convinced people otherwise because he spouts his nonsense with bare minimum charisma. Well, guess what? If Trevor can deal with Ralph's bullshit, the Bishop's should be a cake walk
He did say Trevor makes for good bait.
Return to the Pit
While Trevor runs through the blood-spattered streets of Greşit, the Speakers safely tucked in the catacombs below, night falls over the ruined city. The horde does not descend, in an uncharacteristic stroke of luck for the great saga of Trevor Belmont, but he's not going to question it. Just as he minimally questions the Speaker who turns out to be a magician, of all things
No, his ire is not directed towards Sypha, or the night horde, or the good people, not really. His anger is reserved for the true threat to Wallachia
Anyone can sound convincing with a certain degree of confidence. Staring down a painfully sober, pissed off Belmont surrounded by what may very well be the fires of Hell, the fingerless priest doesn't look all that confident. Certainly not enough to believably deny the accusations, true as they may be. In the end, Trevor barely has to lift his short sword. The good people take care of it for him
And then, there's an explosion. The horde has come.
Instinct cuts in like an old friend as Trevor starts bellowing orders, pulling the townsfolk together into something resembling the battle formations his folks had him study all those years ago
"We need a priest," Ralph suddenly appears beside him. He needs to put a bell on that man. "Fully-ordained, in a church. Go to the well and start blessing."
"How is the Bishop?" Trevor asks him in a lower voice. As if on cue, another explosion goes off. His companion grins as he often does, wide and wicked.
"I didn't have to lift a finger."
Just this once, Trevor allows himself a small smile at another's pain. "Guess you're not half-bad at this bait thing, either."
Ralph inclines his chin, laughing, and his pupils are blown so wide with adrenaline they seem to glow in the scant torchlight
The horde draws near before long; they can tell from the shrieks getting louder, the pounding of claws and beating of wings. There's another burst of flame, right at the main entrance to the square, and then there are figures emerging from it, all taught skin and gnarled bone. Night creatures of all shape and size, with dark, leathery hides and burning red eyes
"Sypha, walls."
Ice rises from the stone until it looks like the parted sea, and as expected, the night creatures sizzle at its touch. It certainly makes things easier, being able to throw out buckets for Sypha to freeze into spikes, in addition to their makeshift pikes. As the people slash and the Speaker impales, the hunters take out whatever remains, Trevor with his consecrated whip, Ralph with magic and a very large axe. He does have the sense not to use that fire-shield-thing - what with the holy ice everywhere - and is instead showing off a new move where his knives fly out from his person in a deadly halo and stab the monsters of their own accord
Trevor may not have all those bells and whistles, but he holds his own well enough, for a man who has spent more time in active combat over the past four days than he has in the past ten years. Pretty damn well, actually, as he cracks his whip with devastating precision, monsters bursting left and right. For the ones he can't handle, Sypha's there, smacking them with a whole boulder made from frozen holy water, and -
They make a good team
Then, there's a massive canine creature bounding towards him, radiating menace. Seconds before it lands, shards of ice break through its hairy form, tearing through muscle and bone. It snarls at him, and Trevor notes the axe slash already hacked through its shoulder, old enough to clot but recent enough to still shine that sticky black. The leader, presumably, if Ralph decided to spare it during his mad dash to the church
After the first few seconds, Trevor gets tired of its attempt at threatening him and blows its head up. Thank fuck that's over.
But of course, if Trevor should have known anything from twenty years on this wretched earth, it's that the world is never truly done with him. As soon as he thinks it might be, the ground collapses beneath him... literally
They fall for a long time. It's only through a combination of Trevor's quick reflexes and Sypha's quick spellcasting that they even land somewhat safely, and the same very nearly could not have been said of their follower: an idiot adrenaline junkie who jumped right after them into the cavernous pit
"Ralph, what the fuck -"
"- What, did you think I was going to let you run off without me on some grand adventure? I'm sorry to say, Trevor Belmont, I'm a little too stubborn for that."
Trevor's conflicted about the way Ralph says his family name. On that first night, it had been with an incredulous disregard, as if he couldn't believe Trevor was truly a son of House Belmont. Since then, the sense of superiority has dissipated, but not the incredulity. Now, he says it with just a sliver of a smirk and unmistakable humor. Like he knows something Trevor doesn't
Like he thinks he knows something Trevor doesn't
"I... think we're deeper than I went before," Sypha manages as she takes in the eerie blue glow of the catacombs
And then, a mass of metal crushes the air beside them. They run, Trevor pulling Sypha by the wrist and Ralph keeping pace. The path runs out, so they leap off the edge, hitting a slope smooth enough to slide down it until they reach the next platform. This hall is filled with gears the size of rose windows and metal beams the length of a great room, which are not particularly sturdy, as the floors continue to crumble wherever they step. Thankfully, they all have some way to traverse it: Trevor and Ralph with their agile strength and Sypha with her magic, occasionally using Trevor's whip as a tightrope
The structure doesn't hold steady for long. They fall again, and for the nth time today, Trevor wonders if this will be the concussion that gives him permanent brain damage
On this final floor, they're able to look up and see nothing but specks of blue amongst the black. Not even the sun dares venture this far below the surface. But, seeing as there's no apparent exit, they must press on
From the moment Trevor processed the elaborate arches of the upper levels, the cyclops guarding the door, and the strange, unearthly lights throughout the complex, he was imagining an elaborate hall with blood red tapestries and a coffin set on a dais. However, standing in that very room, he's struck by the realization that he did not think it would be a one-to-one translation
Why does virtually every powerful vampire in the history of the Belmont hold have the same taste in décor? Is this a requirement upon becoming undead, that you have to re-design your whole afterlife to fit the theme? He's barely holding his shit together, by this point; he has no idea how Ralph is maintaining a straight face
Sypha's cautious intrigue can be excused by her inexperience
A stone clicks beneath his boot, and he almost fears they're going to start falling again, before the coffin begins to slowly creak open. Melodramatic vampires, he swears
The figure of a man rises from the dark. He does not arise as a mortal at dawn, groggy and real, but floats in mid-air with the ethereal grace of a downed Achilles, the marble of his bare muscles marred only by a flushed, rippling scar stretching from his hip to his shoulder. Even his hair, long and silken, shines like pale gold
"The story," Sypha says, hushed, though her slight smile speaks volumes. "The Messiah sleeps under Greşit. The man who will save us from Dracula."
The man tenses. Subtly he tilts his head in the hunters' direction, his golden locks draped before his face. "And you? Are you in search for a mythical savior?"
"I fell down a hole."
"I fight my own battles, but you can accompany us if you'd like." Trevor snaps his head over to Ralph with a glare, willing with every scrap of energy he has left that he suddenly unlocks the power of telepathy. Just so he can scream at Ralph without the fucking vampire hearing it
"Of course, I'll need a sample of your fighting prowess before I can officially welcome you into the fold, but that should be no problem for one of your... status."
And now Sypha is also glaring at him. Incredible, considering how chummy those two have been all afternoon. Ralph appears ambivalent - not oblivious, Trevor knows better than to accuse him of that - focusing the majority of his attention towards the hovering wonder, who he eyes with the same intensity, the same fire, with which once he looked upon a drunken, washed up mess in some backwater hamlet. It is a fire that expects to feed
"Is that what you believe?" the man asks
His mouth splits as a dry, crackling chuckle makes its way through. "Oh, there is no belief about it."
"Dracula is abroad in the land," Sypha interjects at that point, taking a step forward. "He has an army of monsters. He's determined to wipe out all human life wherever he finds it."
Trevor almost sighs. "But that's not what you're asking."
"No."
"You're asking if we believe you're some 'sleeping messiah' who's going to save us, and no," he says firmly, regardless of Sypha's warning. "I don't.
"I know what you are."
He can hear the smile in the creature's voice. "And what am I?"
"You're a vampire."
It is then that the figure lifts its head, and its eyes glow like the sun hanging in a red sky
"Have we come down here to wake up the man who will kill Dracula... or did we come here to wake Dracula?"
"You call me Dracula," he says, and Trevor doesn't hesitate before saying, "I'll call you anything you'd like if you'll show me your teeth." There's a snort, and that's when Trevor looks over - just a glance - and freezes
Ralph is smirking again. That insufferable, playful smirk that screams I know something you don't. God fucking damnit, what is he not saying this time?
And then the vampire's talking again
"The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night, did they not? For generations. The Belmonts kill vampires."
"Until the good people decided that they didn't want us around," he can't help the sardonic smile that graces his features, accompanies his furrowed brows
"And now Dracula's carrying out an execution order on the human race... do you care, Belmont?"
Oddly enough, he almost prefers the way Ralph says it; at least he doesn't sound like he wants to put Trevor under a microscope. As for his question, had he asked it but four days ago, Trevor would have said no. He had accepted that Dracula was going to burn this whole world to the ground, had made peace with it, because he'd long known that humans had already made it a living Hell. His future had gone up in flames ten years ago. Might as well cap it off with some actual fire and brimstone
In the past four days, his life has again been turned upside down, and it's not just because of idealistic Speakers, or orchestrating the Bishop's death. It's because, for the first time since he was a child, Trevor can see what his future is supposed to look like. What he wants his future to look like. And he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he can have it
There is still room in the world for Belmonts. Every spitting, cursing Wallachian who told him otherwise was lying.
"- Yes. It's time to stop it." He looks over his shoulder to find Ralph watching him with that sharp-toothed smile. Though his eyes do not literally glow, they shine as bright as the blue lamplights, a sparkle only matched by the Speaker standing beside him. Their expressions are enough to strengthen the set of his spine, yet like staring at the sun, he finds he can't look at them for too long lest he burn from the inside out
Right, back to business.
He outlines the evidence not for Ralph - or the vampire - but for Sypha, who is quite possibly the only one here that will truly blame him if he has to kill the thing. This is not a sleeping messiah; this is a monster who locked itself away a mere year ago, in a stone coffin, surrounded by booby traps it claims were not meant for you. Whatever that's supposed to mean. While Sypha's face drops in favor of a more worried look, Ralph's brightens substantially. No matter his previous offer to have the vampire join them in their quest, Trevor can practically hear the man's thoughts as his own: Yes! Use that brain of yours! Now you are thinking like a hunter
He doesn't even step in as the vampire summons a sword to his hand. Very well, Trevor thinks, snapping out his whip. The training harness is off.
He starts by cracking his whip in a continuous string of consecrated arcs, which the vampire dodges. In the background, he hears Sypha call to him, hears Ralph speak to her with low words, but he doesn't get the chance to see a strong arm settle across her shoulder blades, let alone the softer look that accompanies it: Let them do this. They need to get it out of their system.
They're going to kill each other!
If I for any reason suspect they will, I will tackle the soldier before he lays a pearly fang on our hunter. His mouth splits, small yet full of mischief. If you will freeze Trevor to the wall? Shoulders lowering, she does not fully relax, but she does curl her lips the slightest bit
It would be my pleasure.
Meanwhile, Trevor pulls out his short sword. He got a good hit in, but was disarmed in quick succession - now, their blades meet to sparks. The crash of steel. The vampire has supernatural speed, which, honestly, in proper duel that's just cheating, but he supposes you can't expect night creatures to play fair. Have some class, the vampire says, as if he didn't just use his powers to cheat in a sword fight. Trevor wants to hit him over the head with his uncle's book on the Code of Chivalry
All things considered, it's going surprisingly well. It takes a solid few minutes before the vampire manages to slice his sword in half, and even then, Trevor adds another slash to its chest. Which is, of course, when the vampire tires of this game. Trevor crumples against the wall. Before he can so much as blink, the vampire is over him, its claws in his hair, its teeth honing in on his neck
If a vampire bit him, Ralph would be fine. Hell, the creature would in all likelihood, rear back as if it had instead drunk demon blood and release all the gory contents of its stomach. Trevor has yet to reach that point. In fact, he's going to spend the next week guzzling monster blood in order to catch up
Maybe he can poison this monster a little bit, but he'll probably bleed out before then
"- Dear God, please don't let the vampire's guts ruin my good tunic."
It's a good thing he always keeps a silver-coated knife on him
"I can still rip your throat out."
"You can, but it won't stop me staking you."
"But you will still die."
A shrug, casual as can be. "Killing you was the point. Surviving was just a luxury."
He laughs then, the beast, clear as a bell. "Consider your point proven." Standing, the place where Trevor stabbed him heals within seconds, the slash of his sword long gone. The blood remains on Trevor's hand, more red than it is black. When the vampire looks over at his companions, his tongue is quick
"You are a Speaker," he addresses Sypha.
"A magician," she corrects, looking for all the world like she wants to combust him with her mind, Ralph's hand on her shoulder the one thing holding her back. "And his goal is mine: to stand up for the people."
"And you are?"
"A hunter as well, but a warrior besides." After only a moment, Ralph's more serious façade cracks. "A mercenary for the right price."
He takes them in, their merry band of three, before giving a single, definitive nod. "You'll do.
"I am Adrian Ţepeş, known to the Wallachians as Alucard, son of Vlad Dracula Ţepeş."
The brooding Prince of the Night Court who tried to stop his father from unleashing his demon army upon the world, and was grievously wounded in the process. He sealed himself in this tomb for a year to heal, so that he might one day challenge his father again. Also, apparently there's some prophecy from the future that says the 'Sleeping Soldier' will be met by a hunter, a scholar, and a warrior, and for some reason, the untold rest of the story causes Sypha to blush. Huh.
"Did you know about this?" he turns to Ralph, who seems utterly unsurprised
The warrior scoffs. "It's not my fault you have been keeping your ears so far from the ground. The... nocturnal sorts have been whispering about the half-vampire son of Dracula for at least a decade."
"And the prophecy?"
"Eh, news to me, but I was going to fight Dracula either way. I don't need someone else commanding me to do it, whether that's prophets from the future or the Archbishop himself." Crossing his arms, he tacks on, "though, I wouldn't complain if the Archbishop groveled for my help." The thought brings that knowing smirk back to Ralph's face, and to be honest, Trevor has started giving up on fully understanding this man
"So, what happens now?" Sypha asks, as if she did not just blow the case of the stubborn Speakers wide open. Trevor had noticed her grandfather's insistence, but he didn't think it was for the sake of some stupid prophecy. God.
'What happens now?' Obviously, we ride off into the sunset and put this whole blasted land behind us
"I need a scholar, a hunter, and a warrior," Alucard states, having finally put a shirt on. "I need help to save Wallachia... and defeat my father." His sword rings as it flies into its scabbard
"Why?" Trevor asks, and it's a reasonable question, thank you very much Sypha. How is he to trust anything said by the son of Dracula?
"Because it is what my mother would have wanted, and we are all, in the end, slaves to our families' wishes."
Lifting his whip once more, he eyes the crest on its hilt but carefully keeps his gaze from any other's
No, he thinks with a pang, there is no more chance to leave this place behind. That opportunity has long passed. No longer can he return to the miserable - yet simple - life he lived before. Though he expects that cold sense of mourning to wash over him, it's shockingly brief. Merely a cloud passing in front of a glorious dawn
"My father has to die," the man says as they come together: the shining soldier, the stubborn scholar, the returned hunter, and the wild warrior
"We four, we can destroy him."
Epilogue
"Ralph," if that is your name, "I have been meaning to ask you something."
"Yes?" he glances up from where he sits, hunched over the blade of his axe, whetstone in hand. Trevor stands before him, shifting on his feet. Consciously, his fingers dance from the crooks of his crossed arms.
He cracks his neck with a sigh. "In private."
Mere feet away, Sypha stands with her Speaker caravan, hugging and talking in low tones. Alucard has long since faded into the shadows, but knowing their luck, he could be lurking around any corner. Thankfully, Ralph seems to get this as he shrugs and follows.
They quietly step into the alley, careful not to alert anyone to their leaving; as they slip away, it is to neither a Speaker nor civilian's watchful gaze. It's daytime, now, light pouring soft and bright upon the pale stone and the dark viscera that still stains it. Ralph looks about the same as he ever did, a lean, scraggly thing with wild hair and knife-sharp edges, but there are things Trevor picks up on that he didn't before. Beneath the vicious distortion of his scarring, his jaw is smooth, his face an oval shape so reminiscent of his mother. His eyes are upturned like his father's, even the same color, like the sky at dusk after the last traces of gold are gone. They even have the same nose, straight and thin. It's amazing that Trevor didn't realize it sooner. Really, the only excuse he has is the raging hangover he's been nursing for the past few days, and the decade of distance.
"Ralph," he says, just to feel the shape of it. "I know who you are now, and I respect it, but I must ask.
"Are you... were you once Raffaele Belmont?"
His twin, the wild little girl who disdained brushes and would leap from the treetops just to hear him scream. His partner in crime who would help him steal mucenici pastries from their mother's kitchen, then try (and fail) to pin the blame on one of their numerous older sisters. Who was usually covered with more than a handful of scrapes and bruises of mysterious origin, but who narrowly avoided the fretting that came with being the youngest by five minutes.
His twin, who burned with their family home ten years ago. Who he thought was dead, but who now stands before him, surely as the sun did rise.
Swallowing, he lifts his gaze to Ralph's, and - his smile is gone. His lips are slightly parted, his dusky eyes wide beneath furrowed brows. His stare is a million leagues away. He looks gutted. It hits Trevor, then, in a way it hadn't quite before. It hits him like a kick so powerful it dredges up every piece of rot that's festered inside him for the past ten years, a brick to the head so strong it knocks the self-loathing ambivalence right out of him. His next breath comes in stuttering, his blinks tingling, and a gasp has Ralph startling into action. The next thing Trevor knows, there are arms around him, lean but solid, a warm shoulder soaking up the fluid dripping from his eyes. He smells like iron and death, and far beneath it, an undertone of spice. He smells like their parents, their aunts and uncles, their sisters returned from a hunt.
He smells like home.
"I'm here, brother. You don't have to be alone anymore."
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allyennah · 9 months
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Rating the OCs
Disclaimer: as a parent I love all my children equally. However...
Favourite
Vitaelius. I dunno how it happened, he started out as just a thieving little shit based a little too much on the fact that I had just played Black Flag. Now here we are, many years later and he's become such a comfy character to write. I've learned a lot through the process, as he's gone from just one of Ced's too many kids to my favourite blorbo.
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Oldest
THE OLD MAN HIMSELF! (I recognize 40 is not old but Ced as an oc is... I thiiiink almost 10 years old??) Ced, my love. He was the first oc who ever actually felt like their own person - really just the first game character I put more personality and thought into than the basics of what the game gave me. He started out as just a grumpy old woodsman who wanted to go home instead of fighting in a war and now he's become so much more than that!
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Newest
Zedrine. She was a death cleric in a tomb of annihilation campaign that went sour but I loved her so much that I resurrected her for the main oc line up. She's now one of many children belonging to Deimos and Valarys and very much takes after her socially inept demon dad. XIV wise that makes her part voidsent, she is her own reaper avatar.
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Meanest
Marian. Miss lady villain, miss bad choices for terrible reasons. God forbid women do anything, but she is an excellent necromancer and honestly I think we need to appreciate that a little bit more. She *did* try to murder Ced - her brother - and she *did* kill his partner instead. Uncompromising and firmly of the belief that she is owed the respect Ced gets instead.
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Softest
Kassius. I wanted the challenge of writing the healer archetype, soft and sweet and here to help. That failed somewhere between scathing wit and the fact that healers DESERVE to be a little jaded. He suffers from indecipherable visions of the future but maintains a positive attitude.
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Dumbest
Tyberius. HELLO HIMBO EX! Also another challenge I wanted to take on. He's a happy puppy dog of a man but make some very stupid mistakes that nearly cost him happiness..the idiot does I fuse himself with a magical rune because he's told it will help him protect more people.
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Smartest
Lucilla. This woman runs her own business, oversees international trade agreements, and managed to convince a nation she did not kill her husband. She is entrepreneurial, quick witted and can talk circles around people better than I can write.
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Horniest
Uh... good question. It's PROBABLY also Ced. The man has too many kids with too many different people not to be.
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Character you'd bang
Oh that's a hard one. I don't... really think of any of them that way?? Ced's objectively hot as fuck tho, so there's that!
Character you'd be IRL best friends with
Probably Amelia! I based her off my grandmother and we had such a close relationship, I'd want to be best friends with her.
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Thank you for the tag @gatheredfates
I'm tagging: @eleventhcircle @shroudkeeper @the-sycophant @maxikha-ffxiv @under-the-blood-moonlight @sasslett @sealrock @ascendedhypothesis @akaiba @e-dragoons @starrysnowdrop @talion-graves @god-dammit-fandom @withheartsaligned and anyone else with terminal alt disease
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princesssarisa · 1 year
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Character ask: Charles Bingley (Pride and Prejudice)
Tagged by @comma-after-dearest
Favorite thing about them: His warmth, kindness, and friendliness.
Least favorite thing about them: How easily swayed he is by other people instead of trusting his own instincts.
Three things I have in common with them:
*I try to be kind and friendly to everyone I meet.
*I too easily believe what other people tell me.
*I'm often drawn to people who are very different from me (like Darcy is from Bingley), but I'd prefer a romantic partner with a temperament more like mine.
Three things I don't have in common with them:
*I don't have any sisters.
*I'm not considered especially desirable for marriage by my neighbors (thank goodness!).
*I'm female.
Favorite line:
About letter-writing:
“My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them; by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents.”
And from the same conversation ("awful" in this context means "awe-inspiring," not "bad"):
"I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do.”
brOTP: Darcy.
OTP: Jane.
nOTP: Either of his sisters.
Random headcanon: If he had never reunited with Jane, I don't think he would have spent the rest of his life pining for her; neither would Jane for him, even though Elizabeth fears otherwise. They would both have eventually moved on and found others. But this doesn't make their love for each other any less deep or less true. Nor – despite what some fans speculate – does the fact that he had other infatuations before Jane imply that his love for her won't last. Theirs is a good, tender, ordinary love that will lead to a happy marriage, and the fact that it isn't some larger-than-life, once-in-a-lifetime passion doesn't diminish it in the least.
Unpopular opinion: He's not an idiot. Even though his intellect doesn't match Darcy's and he relies too much on other people's judgments, that doesn't make him a himbo. He's a person of perfectly average intelligence. He's not inherently boring either. I'd like to see a retelling of the story written from his point of view for a change, or at least from Jane's point of view that puts their romance front and center, because I think they both have potential depth to explore.
Song I associate with them: None in particular.
"Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön" from The Magic Flute might remind me of him, though. Like Bingley, Tamino falls in love quickly, tenderly, and wholeheartedly, and like Bingley, he tends to be too easily swayed by what other people tell him, which nearly costs him his future happiness.
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Favorite picture of them:
This illustration by H.M. Brock, showing Bingley and Jane's romance blossoming as Jane recovers from her cold at Netherfield:
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This illustration of his proposal to Jane by the same artist:
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This illustration of the same scene by C.E. Brock (H.M. Brock's brother):
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Osmond Bullock in the 1980 miniseries:
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Crispin Bonham-Carter in the 1995 miniseries:
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Simon Woods in the 2005 film (I never would have thought to imagine Bingley as a redhead, but the idea has grown on me):
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lespicybrocoli · 4 months
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10 fandoms / 10 characters / 10 tags ヽ(✿゚▽゚)ノヽ(✿゚▽゚)ノヽ(✿゚▽゚)ノ
Gracias a @rainy-days-and-nights por el tag!
Cloud Strife/ Final Fantasy 7
The original blorbo, my first love (the one you never forget), my first wet and sad man, the one hero who had mental illness before it was cool (jk, however It was the first I got to know), for him I downloaded the anime OVA in a process that took 3 days and 5 hrs per day on my local internet shop and i bought the original Advent Children movie and the extended. He defined my taste in fictional men.
Uriko/ Bloody Roar 2
My first crush, she made me a furry before I even knew what a furry was, she awoke in me my taste for fighting women and catgirls. Silly little weapon of mass destruction, best girl, best playable character in Bloody Roar (yes, Im biased, no I don't look to be corrected)
Raine Sage/Tales of Symphonia
I wanted to be her when i grew up, now older I come to undestand that maybe I wanted to fu--*gets kicked*
Best archealogist, best sister, takes no ones bullshit. What the world of research needs.
Roxas/ Kingdom Hearts
Righ in my teenager era, thought it was Cloud so I looked, stayed because of the tragic existencialism, best angry boy, he has never done anything wrong on his life, kicked Riku's ass like a pro, fave resident in Sora's Heart hotel. A little gremling out for blood.
Maka Albarn/ Soul Eater
My irrevocable call that I was, in fact, not straight. The most cool female character I had ever seen, fuck the perfect stereotype (even thou she was the academic sterotype of perfect student) she was a messy bitch with angry issues and it was so fucking healing to see her being that way. Made me realice you can have a boyfriend and a nonbinary partner at the same time.
Aqua/ Kingdom Hearts
My wife, she carries the whole BBS game on her back, not because something arbitrary like most powerful keyblade wilder (which she is) nor because she is the only one who becomes master of her group (wich she does) but because she, literally, pass the whole game,pulling together the shit her idiotic himbo crush and her best friend do during all the game. Her movements while fighting are top 1000 of sexy things
Riku/ Kingdom Hearts
He is the representation of the queer journey made game character, the ironic fact that he is the closest to the mascot of all that represents capitalism is incredible good for social study. Seeing him growing on the story resonated with my growing into a lgbta+ person and now we are both happy with who we are.
Dante/ Devil May Cry
I literally buyed the whole tri-pack of the DMC saga back in 2013 when I didn't even had a PS2, just to play it in a console a friend let me borrow. All the bro dudes buying his bad boy persona when he is a fucking depressed man that only knows happiness when he has his brother back, looked for the sexyness and irreverent style, stayed for the tragic sibling drama.
Dream/ The Sandman
The blorbo that pretty much brough me back to Tumblr. Goth, sad, twink, depressed, divorced dad of one poor soul with the most toxic family ever. Neil Gaiman saw that one comic about giving robot feelings and decided to do the same with concepts. No Neil, you didn’t give it feelings, you fucked up a concept.
Loki/ Marvel MCU
Sad wet snake, with queer tendencys ignored by most of marvel who is made justice on fanart/fanfic. My favourite "redemption" trope. Mama's boy. HE USES MAGIC, CAN SHAPESHIFT AND FIGHTS WITH KNIVES. May hate the world but loves his brother, that gets me every time. I just want them to be happy
I tag @umi-umita @agent-bee @seiya-starsniper
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The Lothbroks, aka, the European version of the Kardashians.
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Summary: When Barbie Murray time travels, she finds out that pink isn’t available in Viking times. Luckily, her new besties all understand that boobs are the best and slay (literally?!) with her.
Notes: I’m finally done! This was so much fun to write to all the kings, queens and gender-neutral rulers, enjoy this crack fic. It’s my new fave.
My inspos for bimbo dearest are Karen smith, Elle woods and the lovely @chrissychlapecka on insta
The character speaks Norse bc reasons and magic, and she’s besties with Hvitty bc he’s the biggest himbo in the series. Also she’s QUEER bc queer bimbos are the best bimbos. Only platonic relationships in this one!!
Based on this request, i hope you like it!
Barbie
There are a few things to know about me, Barbara Murray. One, don’t call me Barbara, unless you want me to put you on my list of idiots and douches. Barbie or babe is fine. Two, I LOVE pink and three? Umm, well, I kinda forgot about three. We can come back to it later.
Anyways, you may be wondering, what is this thing? Technically, it’s my English notebook, but I’m in a cellar right now. And it’s weird. Plus, Annie Frank got famous for her diary, and we don’t even know if she was up to date with the tea from the forties.
The cellar is really musty, and I hope that they’ll just get me out of here and sell me back home. This sicko with brown clothes found me in the woods with a bunch of other men who all haven’t showered in at least a week and dragged me down here!
He tried to take my purse too, but there’s no way that I’m letting go of my baby, so I whacked him over the head real hard and he let it go for now. I’ve been here for what? Three days now?
Let me be honest, the food they have sucks too! And not only because it doesn’t fit my diet (I’m totally animal cruelty free by the way) but also because it’s just gross. It’ll be good for my stomach though. Like a natural detox or something.
On the first day, the castle was totally loud, and I couldn’t even sleep, but then it got kinda quiet. This old guy with a beard came down here, and he gave me Santa vibes, but in a bad way. He gave me some wine – that was good at least and then he left again. Right now, this priest (or at least I think he’s a priest, he’s been singing in Latin or so) is staring at me. Everyone stares at me here, but I know it’s just because they’re jealous of my jumpsuit.
Actually, maybe my daddy screwed them over too, and that’s why I’m here.
“Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.” The priest suddenly said.
Gloria Patrizi? I know that girl!
“You know, I don’t understand half of what you’re saying babe, but you should know that Gloria is a total bitch. She’s a cheater and she broke my baby brother’s heart!” I tried to tell him, but he just kept going. Don’t ask me why, neither of us was getting anything out of the conversation.
And then, this priest had the audacity to throw water at me! Literally! He just splashed it on my hair. I told him some nasty words that I won’t put into my biography and then he looked terrified and left. Kinda rude of him.
Well, after that I tried to get some beauty sleep but then they had the audacity to ring church bells! Who even does that in LA?
Hvitserk
The raid had been successful of course. Who was going to stand in the way of the Heathen Army? Or him, for that matter? However, his brothers were fighting again, over what to do with the Saxon king, and he didn’t want to listen any longer.
Harald’s men were already searching for wine in the cellars, but Hvitserk was more interested in the people that had been left behind in the dungeons. Perhaps one of them would be able to tell him more about what happened to his father.
He found himself disappointed at the amount of prisoners. At first it seemed like there were none at all, but when he got to the last cell, he saw a woman sitting in one corner, wearing extremely bright clothes. Brighter than anything his mother had ever worn!
“Ragnar Lothbrok.” Hvitserk demanded, hoping that the name would ring a bell in this woman’s mind. She looked up, and Hvitserk narrowed his eyes at her make-up. She wore something that was similar to the eyeliner Yidu had once drawn on herself in Frankia and her eyes were encrusted with – were those gems?!
It was either gems or something else that was glittering while she turned her head.
“Who?” she asked. “Wait, is he famous? Or is that your name? It’s a weird name if you ask me but- “
“You speak Norse?” Hvitserk interrupted.
The woman snorted and rolled her eyes, as if Hvitserk was the biggest idiot to ever grace the Earth. “No, I’m speaking English sweetie.” She laughed.
Hvitserk found himself blushing under her open affection. She was certainly more direct than other Saxon women.
“I’m Hvitserk.” He introduced. The woman’s brows furrowed for a moment, and she laid her head to the side as if she was pondering over a difficult question.
“That sounds like a sneeze babe, no offense. I’m going to call you babe, okay?”
“I’m not a babe!” Hvitserk protested angrily, stepping towards the cell’s bars. Instead of shrinking back, the woman only rolled her eyes again.
“Fine, I’ll call you Hvitty then.”
“And you?” Hvitserk asked. If she was going to be rude about his name, he would be rude about hers.
“What about me?” the woman asked. Absentmindedly, she took a vial with a clear liquid inside out of her bag and smeared some on her lips. It made them shine nicely, and momentarily, Hvitserk was distracted before he snapped back to attention.
“Want some? It’s cherry flavored.” She offered, holding the thin stick from the vial out.
“I like cherry.” Hvitserk agreed, and stepped even nearer, unsure why. The woman put some of the liquid on his lips and a sweet smell that was much to strong immediately hit his nose, before he licked his lips to taste it.
It did not taste much like cherry.
“Why did you do that?” the woman shrieked, and she looked flabbergasted (one of Hvitserk’s favorite words).
“You said it was cherry flavored.” He shrugged. She huffed, crossing her arms.
“So what’s your name?” Hvitserk tried again.
“Oh my name! It’s Barbara.” She began, but suddenly she jutted her finger out, stabbing a brightly painted nail into his chest. “But! Don’t call me that! Call me Barbie!”
“Barbie? That’s not a real name.” Hvitserk laughed and the woman turned on her heel, grabbing a small, also very bright sack from one corner of her cell.
“Well, I exist, so it’s real.” She said, as if that was the most obvious thing. “And I don’t really know what a Lothbrok is, but maybe that’s just because you’re European.”
European? What did that mean? Was it an insult?
“I’m also a Lothbrok.” Hvitserk informed her proudly, trying to ignore the fact that she wasn’t paying much attention to him, instead staring into a small, round device. Suddenly, she snapped it closed and smiled at him brightly.
“Oh! So it’s like a last name? That’s super cool. Hvitty, do you have the key for this cell? I’ve got a mani-pedi scheduled with my girls tomorrow and I really need to get home.”
Hvitserk didn’t bother asking what a mani-pedi was supposed to be, choosing to instead grab the keys from one of the dead guardsmen. When he came back, Barbie was brushing her hair, but clapped her hands together at the sight of him.
“Bestie! You’re back!” she squealed, and Hvitserk found himself more and more confused by her by the second.
As soon as the cell door was open, the woman walked outside, immediately hooking her arm with Hvitserk’s. He would’ve made a comment about it, if he hadn’t noticed her strange shoes in that moment. They were, of course, in that bright color he had never seen before, and had stilts at the bottom. He almost wanted to shake his head.
Somehow, Barbie noticed, immediately stopping in her tracks. “Are you hating on my heels? ‘Cause I can run in them, and I’ll run after you if you make one shady comment.”
“I’ve- I’ve just never seen such shoes before.” Hvitserk stuttered.
“Men.” Barbie muttered under her breath but put her arm back in his. “So, are you like, the only Lothbrok? Or are there more Lothbroks? ‘Cause my family is like, big. You know, I have lots of siblings, and half-siblings, and stepsiblings and everything. My daddy calls it the horribly big Murray clan, but I like them all.”
“I have four brothers. One half-brother and three full brothers. They’re fighting, so I doubt- “
“Family drama? There’s no way you’re keeping me away from that.” She protested, before coming to a halt before the guardsman.
“Is he like, dead?” she whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Hvitserk replied, also lowering his voice.
“He could be sleeping! It’s important that your sleep cycle isn’t interrupted, that’s just bad for your skin.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s dead.” Hvitserk said.
“Pretty sure?” she shrieked. “You didn’t check? Did you kill him?!”
“I did not kill him.” Hvitserk replied, trying to hold back his laughter as Barbie prodded the Saxon with her ‘heels’.
“You should totally introduce me to your brothers.” Barbie demanded, and Hvitserk almost wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. She obviously had no idea how dangerous they all were, but she had survived the Saxons with all her bullshit, and speaking Norse, so he decided that this was all fate.
“Just to prepare you, my youngest brother Ivar has a bit of a temperament.” Hvitserk said, but as Barbie cheerfully nodded, he gave up on warning her – she’d manage somehow.
***
Ubbe was the first to notice Hvitserk and Barbie standing in the doorway, and Hvitserk quickly noticed the questioning brow his older brother gave him, quickly shaking his head in response.
“Hey guys!” Barbie began enthusiastically, “Are you Hvitty’s brothers?”
While the others stared at her, Ivar began to snigger. “Hvitty?” he asked.
“Yeah, totes!” she replied. “It’s my nickname for him. Who are you? Ivar?”
Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by her manner, just like Hvitserk, but still nodded. She listened as the other brothers introduced themselves and then nodded to the ceiling.
“Okay, but why do you guys have a guy in a cage? Are you some kind of cult?”
“That’s the man who killed our father.” Ivar replied darkly.
“We’re getting revenge for him.” Sigurd added.
“That’s like totally medieval, but I love it for you guys!” She laughed, walking over to Ivar. “Can you scooch over a bit? That cell was like, totally uncomfy and I really need to rest my knees. Walking in heels is hard work.”
Hvitserk was surprised when Ivar did move, and Barbie sat down next to him, crossing her legs and setting her bag down on her knees.
“So who are you, and what is it you do?” Ubbe asked.
“Well, I’m Barbie, and mostly,” she paused for a second, stretching out her legs and leaning onto the chair. “Well I guess I slay, most of the time.”
“You” Bjorn began, “Are a warrior?”
“Well that’s what my Pilates coach says.” Barbie shrugged. “Do you guys do Pilates too?”
“Is that a fighting style?” Ivar asked, suddenly interested.
“No! It’s a lifestyle. Of course, I don’t expect you guys to understand. You look like tough mudders, which is totally gross because my ex did it every weekend. Being the supportive girlfriend I am, I went with him and it ruined two of my handbags and three pairs of heels!”
Slowly, Ivar began nodding along. He was confused, just like the rest of them, but Hvitserk could tell that he found her just as amusing as he did. “And what did you do in response?” he asked.
“Well, I asked him to apologize, and when he went on an ego-trip because of it, I broke up with him.”
The conversation went on for a while, and Hvitserk watched as Barbie answered all of his brothers questions. He was beginning to realise that she probably wasn’t Saxon or Viking, or anything else they had ever encountered.
“Where are you from?” he asked carefully.
“LA, duh. I’m American, even though that’s gotten a little problematic nowadays, but it’s the Golden Coast, so I still slay.”
Before any of the brothers could ask her any more questions, King Harald burst in.
“Are you finally done with Ecbert? The people are getting impatient.” He announced, not noticing Barbie. Absentmindedly, Hvitserk let his hand wander down to the axe in his belt. He liked Barbie, and he considered her a sort of strange friend.
“We are not.” Ivar replied. “Tell them it’ll take some more time.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” Harald said.
“Why? Because I’m the youngest or a cripple?” he asked. Hvitserk heard Barbie gasp.
“Ivar! Don’t let others define your worth like that! I think you’re amazing. You know what, you can do what Ivar says. I might only have known him for an hour or so, but he gave me a seat, so I’ll be the judge of character here. I think you suck.”
“And who are you?” Harald asked, his voice dangerously low.
“Barbie Murray. Last year’s Miss California, and the best fashion advisor you could ask for. And it looks like you are in desperate need, mister.”
To Hvitserk’s surprise, Harald did not kill Barbie on the spot, instead choosing to turn around and slam the door behind him.
“Hvitty, is he always like that?” Barbie asked, and he nodded with a sigh.
“Come on, I can’t imagine the Saxons gave you very good food while you were in there, let’s get you something to eat.”
***
After dinner, Hvitserk and Ivar made sure that Barbie got a well-protected and comfortable tent to sleep in, and Hvitserk himself was about to settle down, when he suddenly heard a shriek from Barbie’s tent.
Immediately, he sprung up and hurried to her, only to see her kneeling over her ‘handbag’.
“Hvitty, it’s broken!” she cried, holding it out to him, and Hvitserk realized that there was a large tear in the leather. He would’ve laughed at the comical horror in her eyes, but during the day, he had learned how much her handbag meant to Barbie (almost as much as her current girlfriend), so he rushed to her side to examine the tear.
“Oh this world is so cruel!” Barbie cried, and Hvitserk attempted to pat her on the back.
“Don’t worry Barbie! .” He reassured. “I’m sure one of the shieldmaidens will be able to help you.”
Barbie sniffled on his shoulder, but nodded, leaning into Hvitserk as they walked towards another part of the camp. Hvitserk had to smile to himself. His new friend might be strange, but she was one of the kindest people he had ever met, and that included Helga. He was going to get that bag fixed for her.
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etcrow · 2 years
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i saw your requests were open and ive had this thought for a while but i can’t write lol (and ofc u don’t have to use the idea if u don’t like it)
the prompt is essentially a “morosexual” mc who gets flustered whenever mammon says some dumb, off-the-wall thing bc gosh they just love their silly himbo demon. the brothers prolly know how both of them feel towards each other but mammon is totally oblivious that mc’s blush is bc he genuinely thought that when the professor said “acute” he meant that the triangle was cute.
i’ll leave the rest to u if it interests u but mammon is best boy <3 :’)
My precious idiot
➷➸➹➷➸➹➷➸➷➸➹➷➸➹➷➸➹➷➸➹➷
Genre: fluff, comedy
Character: GN!MC x Mammon
Universe: Obey Me
Warning: none
A/N: hi anon, have a wonderful day. I did my best
Summary: our precious idiot Mammon makes MC goes pooofff
➷➸➹➷➸➹➷➸➷➸➹➷➸➹➷➸➹➷➸➹➷
It was another school day. You were sitting at your desk, Asmo was holding your arm, Mammon instead was sitting on the other side. You were trying to take the lesson, even though you were trying really hard, while the professor was talking and explaining a geometry problem. Yes, there was also geometry in devil doom, damned school subject.
The professor had said something and Mammon had answered in a low voice, making the class laugh. You turned to Satan who turned pale and explained to you what had happened.
The professor was explaining what an acute triangle was, and Mammon, in a whisper, was wondering what was so cute about a triangle.
You barely held back laughter and tears, looking at Mammon. He shrugged, not understanding what had happened.
Levi, in a whisper, had called him an idiot and Satan had agreed. Mammon was visibly offended by their insults and, not understanding what had happened, he had mistaken them for free criticism.
You hugged him and he awkwardly reciprocated. Asmo had made a shrill cry, so much so that it sounded like a pterodactyl. "How is it that the idiot gets free hugs now and I don't?"
The professor had silenced you all, startling you. One more word and he would have put you in detention.
Later, at dinner, no one really knows why, but someone had started talking about chocolate cow's milk and Mammon innocently asked you if that milk came from brown cows. Satan had grunted in exasperation, but you had stared at him, on the verge of laughter, hugging him.
Again the poor avatar of greed didn't understand what was happening, but he hugged you back, confused.
One day, Mammon sat next to you, looking at you. You could feel his gaze fixed on you. "Tell me why you always hug me? If you want attention from the great Mammon, just ask."
You barely held back a laugh, undecided whether to tell him the truth or not. Then, looking at his expression, you decided that no, you couldn't tell him the truth. So you opted for a colorful lie. "Oh sure Mammon. You found me out. I'm a huge fan of your hugs."
The demon laughed, hugging you. "Liar. Satan told me you do it when I say some bullshit. But thanks anyway."
You had returned the hug, holding tight to him. "When you want, silly"
"Now don't go overboard with insults. I'm still the great Mammon"
You laughed, kissing him on the cheek and running away. "Yes but you are my idiot"
He was dumbfounded for a second, staring into space, then smiling. He was your idiot and that was fine.
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mistressemmedi · 2 years
Note
ok bestie, your reblogs have my interests piqued; what is kinnporsche?
Glad you asked. Short version: it's a Thai show that chronicles the epic highs and lows of the love story between the son of one of Bangkok's biggest criminal families and the bodyguard that's supposed to protect him. Here's a short trailer for your viewing pleasure so that it sets to the tone.
The long version? Oh boy 😏
Let me give you a rundown of all the characters:
Kinn: middle child and heir apparent to Theerapanyakul mafia family. Massive trust issues. Somewhat emotionally constipated. He loves Porsche very much but is an idiot about it. His ego is big as his tiddies, which are always on display for everyone's viewing pleasure. Obsessed with making gun jokes.
Porsche: bartended turned bodyguard for the Theerapanyakul family. Massive himbo, but we love him for it. Fiercely loyal. Has zero sense of self-preservation. Tends to get himself in sticky (HA!) situations after a few drinks. All around little shit, 10/10 would recommend.
Vegas: our resident little meowfioso. Objectively speaking he's is a garbage human being but that's alright because he's hot while doing it. He is Kinn's cousin and the family issues between him and Kinn is what (mostly) fuels Vegas rage. Tries to pursue Porsche with the same relentlessness of the squirrel in Ice Age who desperately wants that nut. And much like the squirrel, he fails spectacularly at it every time. Also, whips and chains do excite him. He relaxes by torturing people.
Pete: Porsche's bestie, also a bodyguard. Not going to spoil much but... Him and Vegas? More than meet the eye. He's a certified Freak™️. Everyone in the Theerapanyakul compound has seen his ass - including his boss. He's bit of an enigma tbh. Everyone in the fandom is cheering for him to get kidnapped and tortured. Whips and chains do excite him as well.
Kim: Kinn's lil bro. Affectionately known as Kimlock Holmes because he has an investigation/murder wall in his bedroom. He's not too involved with the main family but he is investigating the presence of a mole. When he is not investigating, he plays music, uses copious amounts of lip gloss (seriously, how are the man's lips always so hydrated and juicy????). Because of his investigation, he ends up crossing paths with Porsche's lil brother.
(Por)Chay: Porsche's lil bro. Absolute ray of sunshine. Cannot speak one bad word about him. He is so sweet that every time he's on screen I can feel my cavities growing. Has a crush the size of Texas on Kim.
Tankhun: eldest son of the Theerapanyakul fam. He's allegedly batshit cray cray but honestly? Smartest one of them all. Excellent fashion sense, I cannot emphasize enough how much I would love to raid his closet. Lover of tv dramas and certified fish dad.
There are many more characters but these are the main ones.
The series has some problematic moments (ex. dub con) so if that may be a trigger I'd suggest giving it a skip. It's such a fun series because everyone involved (aside from Chay I'd say) is on some level a terrible human being. They literally lie, kill, torture etc. as their daytime job lmao. The series has its fluffy moments, funny moments, (very) sexy moments and action packed moments. The cinematography alone is just... *chef's kiss*
You can legally watch KinnPorsche on Iqiyi - I think the first episode is available without a subscription here, at least you can gage if it's something that you may enjoy before committing :)
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ghostofwhitestone · 2 years
Note
tbh julius being kind of a himbo is very funny to me, esp since canon percy implicitly compares him to grog
im imagining everyone in the de rolo family figuring it out on their own and then weeks later julius dramatically declares to vesper that -deep inhale- our little brother's SEEING someone and vesper sort of does conversation math in her head to figure out how best to break it to him
(vesper won't tease percy too much about vex even though he looks like an idiot staring at her like that. julius, on the other hand, has no compunctions whatsoever.)
Yes absolutely, himbo Julius is very dear to me, too. I mean, look at his character design in TLOVM and tell me he’s not a total teddy bear?
I love the thought of him pulling a dramatic reveal specifically to his father, who he worries may be disappointed by the prospect, and as you mentioned, Vesper. Vesper just grins and Frederick says in his head several times “he is capable of leading Whitestone after me. He is capable of leading Whitestone after me.”
Frederick just responds with, “I’m aware, my boy. I quite think Vex’ahlia is a great fit for Percival, do you not agree?”
Julius is stunned, but Vesper is just thankful she didn’t have to say it herself.
Julius teases them a bit, but his wording gets a touch clumsy, so in all honesty, it ends up just being funny rather than irritating or threatening.
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userbadomens · 2 years
Note
☕️ + steve harrington
acey u just had to do it to me didn't u
steve harrington. love of my life. sweet boy. must be protected at all costs.
i feel like steve harrington is always vastly underrated where it actually matters. like people love to use him for shipping or for the himbo but he's so much more than that. he's a multifaced person. people always act like he's so stupid -- and i'll be the first to admit that he's not the brightest bulb in the bunch, and i think especially in s4 the duffers leaned into it too much -- but he IS smart in his own way. i mean, he's the one who figured out the russians were in the mall. that's not something an idiot would do, you know? he's full of practicality, something desperately needed in this group of characters. he's like a father figure for dustin, something that he's seemingly lacking. he's like an older brother figure for max, since billy sucks and also died. i would kill for some insight into what happens between seasons with steve, how his interactions are with the kids during those off seasons when the world isn't immediately ending.
steve is also, inherently, one of the saddest characters in all of stranger things. he didn't get the girl (twice), he didn't get into college, he's stuck working a minimum wage job because his family sucks. the relationship between steve and his father doesn't seem like the best one, which is why i feel like he strives to be that kind of figure for the kids around him, why he wants to have a lot of kids so he can be the parent that his never were. his friends all probably ditched him in s2 after he got dumped by nancy and all flocked to billy because he was "cool" and "from california" and what was steve left with after that? no girlfriend, no friends? what was that like? did he just spend all his free time toting around the kids? (please duffers i am begging on my knees for some insight on steve between seasons 2 and 3 specifically thank you)
can we also talk about how cool he was about robin for a minute? mans got shot down and told by this girl that he apparently likes that she's into girls too and he's just like "oh okay" and moves on. like?? hello?? he is the ally tiktok sound ok
anyways i love steve harrington so much i could keep going but i'm going to stop here as to not be annoying on the dash ily acey thank u for feeding my steve fueled brain rot
send me a ☕ + a topic and i will give you my honest opinion!
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