#my singing monsters writting
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So, I made a short story based in certain song.
I hope you enjoy!
Come Little children...
Each kind of monster has a story to explain their origin, the wise have come to the conclusion that the great colossals brought their creativity to our creation, however, among the true and legends of others there are our own, ignored by others, for us a reality that remains after generations like bedtime stories for our monsterlings; like several stories it has changed, at this point we do not know how the real story was, even so the most popular and accurate version is always told. One thing is certain, in every story, in every legend something never changes, the song which it all began.
Before the great Dawn of fire, when the colossals gave life to a home for all. The celestials, the protectors of these elements, dedicated themselves to guiding and protecting the creations, however, among so much joy one of them made himself heard; The colossals had forgotten his element, they forgot to create life for the shadow and darkness. Even his pleas were not heard because the element was seen as useless and weak, especially in the face of the power of the fire, so powerful and brilliant. The jealousy was expected...
That celestial, immersed in humiliation and rejection, devised a plan
One night, peace reigned among the natural monsters; After a long time of incubation, the hatching season had begun, so many monsterlings had just hatched along with their brothers from years past. A night of calm between parents and children who sleep next to them.
Suddenly, as the moon rose high, Shadowed Glare shone; A sweet and deep voice began to sing along with the music of a piano, a song that we remember to this day:
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
"Come Little children
I'll Take Thee Away, Into A Land
Of Enchantment
Come Little Children
The Time's Come To Play
Here In My Garden
Of Shadows"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The memories are vague, hypnotized by the sweet sound of his song. Every monsterling, newborn and young, was called to follow that voice across the continent. Each monster of earth, cold, water, plant, air or fire; each little one was called. They were guided to the highest and nearest cliff, where the celestial awaited them.
One by one, under the light of the moon and the control of the shadows, they fell from the cliff. Fear covered some who feared a fatal destiny... Then, the celestial raising his hand called to the fallen, they began to fly. Young monsters as dark as the night opened their wings and took flight towards the moon, the other little ones then realized that under the protection of darkness nothing would happen to them. It continued like this all night.
His sweet song, so hypnotizing and beautiful, came to an end, on the other side of the sky the great and dazzling sun was present, its light woke up the unsuspecting parents giving them the news that their little ones have disappeared. Meanwhile, that celestial, giving his last verse, lowered the immense and elegant moon to its ancestral rest; The few monsterlings that remained were quick to fall and fly towards that beauty and brilliant.
A little tweedle did not want to fly, cursed with the lack of its wing at birth, it approached to the celestial, afraid of falling. When he saw it, he smiled, taking it in his hands and covering its wing. The sun approaches, the parents scream and run guided by the sun toward the dark end of their little ones. That celestial threw the tweedle off the cliff... And it flew, the last monster of the shadows took flight accompanied by the celestial who guided it to the Moon, which has already hidden.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
"Come Little Children
The Time's Come To Play
Here In My Garden
Of Shadows"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
It was the last thing that was heard in the echo of that cliff
The next day the continent was silent, an entire generation had disappeared into the darkness. For years the monsters refused to sing until the story was forgotten and ignored...
What happened to that celestial? Every day he smiled, looking at those who could not do anything, at the fire celestial that could not illuminate the night and now his people were in despair and silence.
"This is a story that I like to remember, there is nothing physical to prove it, the original grumpyres have perished naturally, their descendants vaguely remember the story. However, I know what I once saw, the memory of what I lived. No matter how much time passes, my wing has never felt better. Still, I miss the purple of my old feathers."
#my singing monsters#loodvigg#msm#writting#my singing monsters writting#come little children#come little children msm au#not really an au lol#short story
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The Winter Sun (22)
22. Rains of Fire
MASTERLIST
Summary: Your personal sacrifice is not enough to Aemond’s thirst
Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader, one sided Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen Reader
Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, incest, hinted non-con, involuntary imprisonment, non con adultery, kidnapping, a little choking, body shaming (Aemond is a c*nt, I imply Reader had chubbier hips from giving birth), death of characters, war and all that comes with it, might miss some warnings
+18, MINORS DNI
Wordcount: 3.1 k
Notes: Ufff this was hard to write. I know I have to update Dragons' mistress and the White Dragon, but I had to write this first, I was just taped to the computer writting this
Cregan hand’s shaked as he read the urgent words of his sister, his eyes filled with tears as he whined, like a wounded animal
His fist landed on the table on his tent.
He so childishly thought he could protect you, but not even an army of a thousand men could get between a dragon and his desire. He was marching to fight a war, and yet, it wasn’t enough
“How long until we reach Harrenhal?”, he asked his most trusted man, Jon, the second son of Lord Roderik
“Two weeks Lord”, he whispered shakily
“We need to pick up the pace “, he grunted, “my wife just…”, he looked at him and he straightened his posture, “she tried to take matters into her own hands”
“Is the Lady of Winterfell alright?”, he asked, fearfully, “is the heir…?”
“The heir is fine”, he said shortly, “but the Lady of Winterfell is in enemy hands”, he said shortly, "we need to reach Harrenhal as soon as we are able, and send a raven to Dragonstone for the old gods!”, he said quickly, “we are facing the largest dragon in the world!”
The man that was around his age left the tent in a hurry, and Cregan bit his bottom lip strongly, enduring the need to cry
You had been threatened and flied willingly to the enemy hands
He didn’t know Aemond in his entirety, but… he was a man, a dark man… with dark desires. He didn’t have to be a genius or a wizard to know what that man wanted to do to you
His wife, his beautiful, smart, sweet, loving wife who had fled her own home to marry him, to escape that monster, who trusted him to protect her and care for her and keep her safe.
He had failed
In a rage he threw everything he had atop his desk to the dirty ground
You threw yourself to the jaws of the dragon to spare him, he hasn't been fast enough, powerful enough, to protect you, his own wife.
And he could only pray to see you again
It had to be at night
You had manage to hide a small knife in a gartner around your thigh, but for it to work, Aemond needed to be impossibly close, and impossibly distracted and relaxed for it to work
The mere thought made your stomach turn, but it was the only way, and if it was at night, you had a better chance to escape in the night, with Vhaelar being so close
She was injured but you could hear her sing at nights, missing you, so it was clear she was ready to fly away if needed be.
You shook in anticipation, he had left to arrange some things, and left you alone to put on a very flamboyant dress and jewelry, like the one he gifted you in Winterfell. You whined, scared out of your mind, but you had to remind yourself that you were doing this for a reason, a good reason, for the survival of your family, your husband, your son, Sara, the North, all of them.
You were getting claustrophobic in this windowless room, it was beautiful decorated, yes, and the candles lit up the room and their scents prevented you from smelling the burn stone and wood and the moist of something that had never seen the sunlight, but they were there, you knew it, like ghosts
Sometimes in those hours he left you, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
A shaky maid brought you water, wine, bread, cheeses and fruits to calm your needs, and left you without even looking at you. You knew it would be futile to try and talk to her. You knew what Aemond did, killing everyone in the castle, he probably filled it with people loyal to the Greens.
You were not proud to admit that you drank the full pitch of wine, out of nervousness, and by the time Aemond walked back into the room, you were tipsy, and on your nerves
Aemond didn’t take long to see that
“I’m sorry for leaving you for so long”, he seemed disgustingly pleased with himself, and amused by your tipsiness, “believe me when I say, I wouldn’t have left at all”
“You are here now”, you said, fighting to make it an even voice. He smiled darkly
“I am”, he took one step towards you, and you couldn’t help but take one step back, making him smile darkly
“You know why you came”, he said
“I know”, you whined, “but Aemond… I need to know…”, he was bored pretty quickly
“Get on the bed”, he commanded, and you whined
“Please”
“I don’t want to force you”, he said simply, clasping his hands together behind his back, “it will be better for the both of us if you surrender yourself to me”, he said simply, with the edge of his mouth turned upwards, in a sick little smile
“Aemond”, you whimpered.
Of course before you kill him, you wanted to see if you could convince him to retreat, but as you could see, there was no going back on his darkness
“Do it”, he only demanded. By your count, it was already nighttime, so this was it, this was the time to do it.
You walked towards him, turning off your brain and all your thoughts, and you kissed him roughly. He released his own hand and grabbed you almost tenderly, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. But then he kissed you back, taking control, his hands got rough, grabbing your arms, and then your sides, squeezing your flesh
“I‘m enjoying your initiative”, he whispered darkly and your lips left his, but he wasted no time in kissing you again, biting on your lips, making you cry out. When you realized what was about to happen, you needed to fight with yourself to tune yourself off. You needed to be in control if you were really going to go through with your plan.
So you needed to be in control.
He seemed to sense your urgency, so as he kissed you roughly he led you to the bed.
You fell on top of it hazardously, a mix of limbs and arms, but you were determined. You manage to be on top of him, and your took a sharp breath, the flimsy fabric of your dress already up your thighs
He looked up at you with wonder in his eye
This was it
And as you accommodated yourself on top of him, you looked down at his face, and he immediately could see that something was wrong, as you couldn’t hide your anger and your hate any longer, you took your hand under the skirt that was already hunched around your thighs, and uncovered the dagger
You were quick, taking both hands and raising the weapon over both your heads, Aemond opened his eye widely, his arms under your knees, he couldn’t do anything.
His heart was your aim, and as you were lowered the knife into him, he went in so slow you cursed yourself, that is what it felt like, but as you were lowering the knife with was like incredible speed, you were pulled backwards, as sharp nails grabbed you by your hairs and scalp
You whined in pain as you landed on the floor in what seemed to be slow motion, you tried to protect yourself from hitting the stone floor but your arm landed awkwardly, your leg twisted as well. You were not injured, but hurt. Something or someone kicked your hand, the knife flying over the other side of the room, and as you tried to stand, Aemond had done so, and right by your side, was a woman with long dark hairs, sharp green eyes and her face twisted in rage
Aemond could not believe what his eye was seeing
“Do you think she would’ve come freely if you hadn't threatened her?”, she asked bitterly, “she came here to kill you”
“Fuck you!”, you screamed, your nerves in the edge of your skin, you had failed, fatally
Aemond looked at the scene developing in front of him, his witch, Alys Rivers, the woman he had taken to bed to assert dominance, he could have never imagined she was the owner of a dark power, and then, the woman he truly wanted, on the floor crying in anger, married someone else and had his child, having tried to kill him after she pretended to wanted to be with him.
Even though Alys knew what his aim was -you-, she even helped him to get to you, and yet, she, as any person would be, was jealous of you, she believed she was the one Aemond should be with, should want, she could give him a child, she could give him everything you could, and more, she could give him dark powers.
Aemond soon was angry, he had lost control of the situation, he had let himself be blinded by you.
“It’s me who you should be with”, she said bitterly, looking at you still on the floor, pitifully, “it is me who had been faithfully by your side all these months, and it is me who can give you everything you want”
“Get out”, he said bluntly, taking Alys by surprise
“What?”, she snapped, still not impressed
“Get out”, he was fuming, Alys contained her anger, walking away from the room, closing the door with a surprising strength
“Aemond”, you called, scared of what you were seeing, he was very angry, enraged. He grabbed you by the neck, not squeezing but still you couldn’t breathe, he threw you on the bed and as you recuperated, he went to the door, opening it and barked orders to a soldier on the hallway that you couldn’t hear, and the he turned towards you, grabbing his own dagger from his belt
“Please!”, he threw himself on you, straddling your middle, making it hard for you to breathe but he immobilized you. “Please!”
“You are just a tricky little whore!”, he shouted, you had never seen it this angry, he was usually so contained within himself
“Aemond please don’t do this, please!”, he sliced the top of your dress and then he ripped it off with your own hands, at once you were completely naked underneath him, and then a shaky soldier entered the room, in his hands there was two thin, short chains
“No”, you whined with tears in your eyes, “NO!”, Aemond trapped one of your wrists no matter how hard you fought him, he was stronger than you in aspect, quicker, smarter…
He closed the other ends around the wooden frame of the bed.
And one you were immobilized in one arm, he went for the other , and he chained you to the bed like you were an animal
The guard left without even looking at you, but you could tell he looked troubled, but there was no time for you to concern yourself with such things, Aemond was looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes that scared you
“You are certainly looser that the last time I saw you”, he mocked, grabbing your chubby hips, you whined, motherhood certainly had taken a toll on you
“Fuck you”, you spit out
“But no matter”, he whispered, “it is still you”
“Please Aemond, it is not too late!”, you begged, “please don’t do this”
“Why can’t you see?”, he growled, “you had been mine all along, it was a mistake on my part to make you believe you had a choice”, you cried underneath him, once he realized you were tied up nicely and tightly, he separated himself from you to undo his breeches, he didn’t even undressed fully, he didn’t even get his clothes off
“Like I said, you are already married, so for now, you are my whore”, he growled, “But I will not forget what you tried to do, you tried to kill me, and your husband will pay the consequences”
“NO!”, you cried, twisting and turning underneath him, crying bitterly, “you promised”
“You have to understand, that my promise is no longer valid after you tried to stab me in the heart”
“You have no heart”, you cried, “please don’t do this”
“I could have been nice, and gentle”, he growled, “but you are more dragon than lamb, are you not?”, he teased, he released his cock, and you whimpered at the sight
“You are going to give me real children”, he whispered darkly, “dragon princes”, you only shook your head, but you had to look away as he pushed your legs open and placed himself between them
You couldn’t even look at him as you let him take you.
They weren’t advancing fast enough
Cregan thought bitterly, two weeks had passed since he receive the dark news from Winterfell, he knew Aemond had you in his power and he knew what he was capable off
They had already passed the Crossroads Inn and he knew it was a matter of a few kilometers until they could see the burn and cursed towers of Harrenhal
His army was great, he had met men in all the Northerner cities he went through on his journey South, he had a power of ten thousand men
He would siege the Castle, he knows it will take the lives of many men as Harrenhal was huge and completely defendable once you could take it, but if he could convince the Kinslayer to come and face him face to face, relying on his hate for him, he could take him in a hand to hand combat
But his plans were… mercilessly destroyed
They came at first light, storming his camp, an army of Baratheons and soldiers from the Royal army as well
The surprise factor did take them by surprise but only for a moment, as they retaliated fiercely, they were the winter wolves, the wildest army Westeros has ever seen.
The battle was brutal, mounted soldiers galloping through the tents and breaking havoc, hard tall men throwing them off their horses with axes of war hammers
Cregan, fueled by rage, cut enemy soldiers in half with the strength and power of Ice, his Valyrian sword, screaming in a rage, seeing red everywhere, the battle was soon pretty even, even though the wolves were being attacked by double the numbers
But Cregan had no space on his mind but for one thing
“KINSLAYER!”, he called, freezing everyone around him, and for his luck, or curse, Aemond answered the call, appearing through the soldiers and smoke, and destruction
“Stark”, he called back, soon they were in the middle of a circle, surrounded by men that had stopped the slaughter just to witness something that was going to be written in the storybooks
“Where is my wife?”, he asked, on guard, with his sword between his hands
“My whore is in Harrenhal, waiting for me in my bed”, he wanted to jump him, cut off his head, but he had to be smarter, he had to beat him.
“Release her, and I will march away”, he said firmly, Aemond only chuckled, his own sword on his hand, ready for the kill
“I will carve your heart out and present it to her as a wedding present”, he breathed out
“You will have to kill me first”, he threatened, putting himself in a position for attack
“After you are dead, I’m going to fly to that wasteland you call home, I’m going to take your widow in your bed, and I’ll give her my children”
“You are never going to touch her again!”, he growled
“I already did, make her bleed on my cock”, that was not true, but Cregan didn’t care as that was the last straw, with a war cry he threw himself towards Aemond, Ice on hand
The clash was brutal
Both blinded, one by power and lust, another for love and desperation. It was a fight for the ages, the single strength shown by both in their encounter made the hearts of everybody who was seeing it clench.
The battle around them also continued, each soldier inspired by their leader, soon Cregan and Aemond both got pushed around by the own fights going around them
“But don’t worry, I don’t care about that little brat, I’m going to leave it there”, Aemond teased, “lets see how long it takes your bastard sister to find him in the snow after I take her eyes”
“ARGH!”, Aemond's sword, that was not Valyrian steel, got split in two by the sheer force of Cregan and Ice, Aemond grabbed a shield from the ground, Cregan was stronger than him, but he was way faster and leaner. quicker on his feet, so he managed to dodge every heavy attack, slower by the size of the sword.
With a growl, and fighting against himself, Aemond retreated, taking advantage of his soldiers around him, Cregan tried to reach him, but his path was cut by Green soldiers
“FIGHT ME AEMOND!”, he screamed, “CRAVEN!”, but the silver haired man disappeared between his men, walking away from him.
The royal army with the Baratheons surrounded the Northmen, making them so tightly against one another they could barely move
Cregan could barely breathe, as he looked around in desperation, it was a sickening moment, in which for him, all hope was lost. Jon was by his side on a second
“My father is leading half the army to surround them, we are going to be fine!”, he managed to scream, Cregan had to believe him, but the sheer force of the attack was unbelievable, the worst part wasn't even… Cregan gasped loudly, as he watched frantically for the skies.
They had placed his camp on a valley, that was their first mistake, even though he had placed watchers on any high point around it, they had been clearly slain without anybody knowing, so they were in the worst place possible
It was moments that felt like hours, as the Northmen fought their way to make room, to recuperate ground, but they were having a hard time doing so, and that is when… all hell broke loose
“DRAGONFIRE!”, screamed another one
“COVER OUR LORD!”
“NO!”, it all happened so fast, Cregan remembered being pushed to the ground, in the reduced space, in the mayhem, in the midst of battle, someone hit him in the head, it could have been a foot, it could have been a shield of the pointless part of a spear, but he lost himself in the roar of battle.
More notes: THIS WAS INTENSE, I couldn't bring myself to write *that* scene, but still you get the picture... Don't hate me please, you know, or at least some of you know, that I'm a sucker for happy endings... hehe this isn't over yet!
taglist!
@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker
@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel
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#misguidedwinter#cregan stark x reader#cregan#cregan x reader#cregan x you#cregan stark#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x alys rivers#aemond x oc#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen#dark!aemond x reader#dark!aemond targaryen x reader#targaryen!reader#hbo house of the dragon#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house stark
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Percy Jackson x Child Of Apollo!GN!Reader- Clueless- Part 2
This is part 2 on Clueless, hope you enjoy!
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writting & posting: June 28th, 2022 | word count: 774
Part 1 Part 3
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End of part 1: Percy didn’t hear those words, but they were the words he wanted to hear most- even if he didn’t know it.
As Annabeth came back to the infirmary, Percy was dry and wrapped in blankets, a cup of tea in his hands. Even with all the layers he had on, Percy was trembling. Annabeth’s heart ached to see her best friend like this, even though he looked better- his skin was less pale and his lips weren’t blue anymore. The tea must be charmed or something, she thought.
“Annabeth! Thank Gods, you came here just in time” Y\N said and took the bottle Annbeth was holding. They whispered a few words in Ancient Greek and opened the bottle. The liquid inside started glowing like the outside of Apollo’s cabin when the sun reached it, like a million gold drachmas in the sun, like-
“Wait, is that liquid gold?” Annabeth asked.
Y\N shook their head. “It’s liquid sunlight. My dad gave it to me and told me to use it if someone gets too cold, like what happened to Percy”
Annabeth narrowed her eyes, she noticed a change in Y\N’s voice as they said Percy’s name; it was softer, as if-
Annabeth gasped. “You’re in love with Percy?!”
“Shhhh, I don’t want the whole camp to know” Y\N covered Annabeth’s mouth with their hand as they shushed her. They lowered their hamd when they were sure she won;t scream again. “But, umm... Yes, I am”
Annabeth’s newly-discovered whistle note made a few monsters run from anywhere near by, Y\N was sure.
“I knew it! IknewitIknewitIknewit!!! All of Aphrodite’s cabin owe me 20 dollars now! HAHA!” (A\N: it wasn’t really an OOC moment; she’s very competitive)
Y\N squeezed their eyebrows, confused. “Hold on... What are you talking about?”
Annabeth stopped her winning celebration and cleaned her throat. “The whole camp was batting on when you’ll fall for Percy and admit it. I said you’ll admit at 16, Aphrodite's cabin said you’ll admit at his 17 birthday”
Y\N stared at her for a moment, shocked. But then they shaked their head and went back to Percy.
His skin was still cold to touch, he wasn’t as pale but he was still trembling. Y\N checked his body heat before they gently pulled his chin so his mouth will open and poured in a very little amount of it. Then they closed his mouth and encouraged him quietly to swallow, which Percy did.
As he swallowed, Percy stopped trembling and his skin started having it’s normal shade again. Y\N sighed in relief and smiled. They’ll have to thank their dad when they see him again. It’s been less than a minute and the liquid sunlight already starts affecting Percy- he looked like himself again.
Percy opened his eyes. They looked like pure gold for a second or two, but then returned to their normal sea-green color that Y\N started considering as their favourite colour.
As Percy’s eyes returned to normal, he looked at Y\N for a second and then looked around him, nervous. “What- what happened- where-”
Y\N started singing him a lullaby in Ancient Greek, and he fell asleep immediately. They looked at him with a soft smile. “You need to rest, Percy. Let your body heal itself.” They leaned and kissed Percy’s forehead softly, almost forgetting Annabeth is there, too. For a moment, it was only Y\N L\N and the love of their life, Percy Jackson.
Annabeth stood by them and looked at Percy, too. “He’ll be fine, you know” she told Y\N. “He’s strong, a little curse can’t kill him.” Annabeth covered her mouth with her hand as soon as the words came out, cursing herself quietly.
Y\N looked at her, confused. “Curse? What curse?”
Well, Annabeth thought, the plan is doomed, I guess.
“Percy was cursed by Aphrodite’s cabin. He could only be saved by an act of true love” Annabeth started explaining quickly. “That’s why we took him here, Lacy and Mitchell told us about the curse and we knew you’re the only one who’s capable of doing this”
Y\N raised their hand to mark Annabeth to stop talking, and she closed her mouth and just looked at them. “So... The whole camp knows how I feel about Percy?” They asked her, looking at her with those sad e\c eyes.
Annabeth nodded slowly as Y\N sighed. “I mean, except for Percy” Annabeth added quietly, but Y\N didn’t hear her; they could only be mad at themselves for not being as cool around him as they wish they were. They thought of the way they were acting around other campers and around Percy, and came to the sad conclusion that they were, in fact, pretty obvious with their feelings.
But how could Percy not know?
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ok, so there IS going to be part 3 haha, Hopefully I end the series then, but if not- well, you’ll have to read more of my stuff.
hope you enjoyed! -Bar
#percy jackson#pjo#percy and annabeth#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson imagines#hoo#heroes of olympus#trails of apollo#child of apollo#daughter of apollo#son of apollo#gn!reader#percy x reader#percy x annabeth#heroes of olympus series#heroes of olympus imagines#heroes of olympus x reader#pjo fandom#pjo stuff#percy pjo#pjo x reader#hoo x reader#annabeth chase#rick riordan#imagines
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Ok, so I'm gonna be honest, half of the reason I created this account was to talk about my very own ideas for an Otome game. Like, obviously I love Obey Me and wanted to write about that to, but I also wanted to find people who liked Otome games and I could talk about this lol. But after I made the blog and started posting I kinda forgot about it and was too busy writting smut lol. But today is the day when I actually sit down and type all of this out.
My brain is kinda weird. Whenever I find a peice of media I really really enjoy, my brain is immediately like "Ok but how about *you* create something like that??" Read a good book? Now I wanna write a book. Read a good webcomic? Now I wanna draw a webcomic.
So it wasn't that much of a surprise when my brain started cooking up ideas for a Otome game.
My very first idea was a lab idea, let's just call it Monster Sanctuary as a working title for now. So basically, the base idea was that you (the Mc) got a job offer from this lab? Government facility? And after you sign the work contract you're told that it's going to be your job to be a handler.
You're told that this facility is starting a new program that will house monsters/creatures that can not survive in their natural habit. Basically it's a animal sanctuary but for, well, monsters.
Since you signed the contract, you're basically forced to work as a handler to these monsters as you're not allowed to get another job or tell anyone about your job, under threat of "legal action".
Moving on to the characters of this Otome game:
There's Lynn, pronouns he/him (all names can be subjected to change, these are basically temporary), your work assistant and basically you're boss. He's the one who hands you your work assignments, and tells you what you're going to be doing. He's pretty chill, in a "always smiling, pleasant" way. You're able to curse him out and hate him for basically tricking you into this job, and he just takes it like "you're just taking your anger out on me because I'm physically proof of this situation. Don't worry, I wouldn't take anything you say personally :)"
Moving onto the monsters:
There's Starling, pronouns he/him. He's a harpy monster. He was raised as a songbird and to sing infront of crowds ever since he was little and that's why he's unfit to be put back in his natural habit. Since raising and keeping monsters is like, incredibly illegal in this world, when he was discovered he was taken in by the facility. Personally wise, he's very sweet and playful. He doesn't see anything wrong with his capture as he's been raised by, and around humans his whole life. The only thing he doesn't like is the fact he can't sing to crowds of people anymore. If he was given an archetype he would definitely be the childish, playful archetype, always wanting to sing and play with you, not taking anything seriously.
There's Favian, pronouns he/him. He's a Lamia/Naga monsters (those snake hybrids with the long snake tail). His venom/fangs were taken by hunters, so he's unable to properly kill his preys. He desperately wants to escape the facility, and after causing a blackout by messing with the wires in his enclosure, forcing you to go into his enclosure to fix it. He tries to convince you to help him escape. He tries to stay level headed and calm, but he definitely has a angry side to him that peaks out whenever he doesn't get his way. Also, overall, just kind of a brat, is basically pestering you and insulting whatever tests you've been tasked to complete with him. Even when he says he understands your situation and how you don't really have a choice.
There's Leo, pronouns he/him. He's a lion hybrid. He used to belong to a circus, and was your typical "lion that does tricks". When he was found out he was brought to the facility. I have less ideas on what to do with this character. I don't think he generally minds being at the facility, but like, he's not hyped about it. I thought a good arc for him would be trying to find out what he wants to do, now that he's no longer at the circus. His archetype is the "athlete" or the "quiet but kind".
There's Pascale, pronouns they/them. They're a fish/marine monster. Theyre at the facility because they're echolocation doesn't work. They find everything and anything to do with the surface incredibly fascinating, but they're also incredibly shy. Spends most of their time in the underwater section of their enclosure. You spend a good chunk of time trying to get them to actually talk to you, until you decide to screw it, and go into the water to see if you can at least see them. Then they almost drown you because they didn't know humans couldn't breathe underwater lol. A shy awkward baby that you *need* to keep away from your phone or else they'll steal it and bring it underwater.
There's Rotri (kinda iffy on this name, but again all names are works in progresses), pronouns he/they/she/any pronouns. Theyre a basically a beast of darkness/yokai, instead of having a proper category. They're the newest of the monsters that came to the facility, and actually arrive a little later you start working there. They're a warrior type monster, who got mangled and left for dead. That's when the facility found him and nursed him back to the health. Not quite fully healed, theyre given to your department. Absolutely hates being here, believes that it was their right to die a warrior's death instead of being here. Dangerous, and will rip you to shreds if you were to step inside his enclosure. Of course, he warms up to you in time, but at the beginning he really doesn't like you.
The game kinda fell apart when I tired to think of a plot, or what kind of tests you actually perform on the monsters.... but I really liked the general idea and didn't want to give that up lol. One thing I knew I definitely wanted was a varied Mc. You can basically act towards any of the character how ever you want. You can be an absolute dick to Lynn, and chose not to complete any of your tasks just to fuck him over. Or, you could join him. You could chose to view the monsters as well, monsters and just a job you needed to get done. I always disliked Mcs that were on the meeker side, and wanted to give players the option of basically making all the monsters their bitches. Taking absolutely no shit from them. Or, since I know some players prefer to be shy or more submissive, play into the whole "there's are dangerous monsters that can overpower you and you are just a sweet little human forced to interact with them~~"
I guess there would also be routes to this game? As you decide whether to be on Lynn's side, or take a more neutral route of just wanting to get your job done and leaving, or trying to help Favian escape (and burning the facility to the ground, because like I said, Fav gots a bit of an anger problem lol).
Overall though, I think this game would ask the question of "where do you think these monsters places are?" Because on one hand, it's very true that none of them could survive if they were placed back in the natural habits, do they deserve captivity? They also can't really survive in human society. A lot of them kinda eat humans and are a dnager to them.... I had this while plot point written out were it's a hard rule that you're not allowed to go into Starling's enclosure if you're injured. You find out the reason for this rule is because Starling is a harpy, and when he discovers that you're injured, he views you as "prey" and will attack you. This was mainly used as a way to show the audience that the monsters can't live in human society, as Starling was the most tame and human friendly monster, but even he will hunt one down if given the chance. Ok, so I'm gonna be honest, half of the reason I created this account was to talk about my very own ideas for an Otome game. Like, obviously I love Obey Me and wanted to write about that to, but I also wanted to find people who liked Otome games and I could talk about this lol. But after I made the blog and started posting I kinda forgot about it and was too busy writting smut lol. But today is the day when I actually sit down and type all of this out.
My brain is kinda weird. Whenever I find a peice of media I really really enjoy, my brain is immediately like "Ok but how about *you* create something like that??" Read a good book? Now I wanna write a book. Read a good webcomic? Now I wanna draw a webcomic.
So it wasn't that much of a surprise when my brain started cooking up ideas for a Otome game.
My very first idea was a lab idea, let's just call it Monster Sanctuary as a working title for now. So basically, the base idea was that you (the Mc) got a job offer from this lab? Government facility? And after you sign the work contract you're told that it's going to be your job to be a handler.
You're told that this facility is starting a new program that will house monsters/creatures that can not survive in their natural habit. Basically it's a animal sanctuary but for, well, monsters.
Since you signed the contract, you're basically forced to work as a handler to these monsters as you're not allowed to get another job or tell anyone about your job, under threat of "legal action".
Moving on to the characters of this Otome game:
There's Lynn, pronouns he/him (all names can be subjected to change, these are basically temporary), your work assistant and basically you're boss. He's the one who hands you your work assignments, and tells you what you're going to be doing. He's pretty chill, in a "always smiling, pleasant" way. You're able to curse him out and hate him for basically tricking you into this job, and he just takes it like "you're just taking your anger out on me because I'm physically proof of this situation. Don't worry, I wouldn't take anything you say personally :)"
Moving onto the monsters:
There's Starling, pronouns he/him. He's a harpy monster. He was raised as a songbird and to sing infront of crowds ever since he was little and that's why he's unfit to be put back in his natural habit. Since raising and keeping monsters is like, incredibly illegal in this world, when he was discovered he was taken in by the facility. Personally wise, he's very sweet and playful. He doesn't see anything wrong with his capture as he's been raised by, and around humans his whole life. The only thing he doesn't like is the fact he can't sing to crowds of people anymore. If he was given an archetype he would definitely be the childish, playful archetype, always wanting to sing and play with you, not taking anything seriously.
There's Favian, pronouns he/him. He's a Lamia/Naga monsters (those snake hybrids with the long snake tail). His venom/fangs were taken by hunters, so he's unable to properly kill his preys. He desperately wants to escape the facility, and after causing a blackout by messing with the wires in his enclosure, forcing you to go into his enclosure to fix it. He tries to convince you to help him escape. He tries to stay level headed and calm, but he definitely has a angry side to him that peaks out whenever he doesn't get his way. Also, overall, just kind of a brat, is basically pestering you and insulting whatever tests you've been tasked to complete with him. Even when he says he understands your situation and how you don't really have a choice.
There's Leo, pronouns he/him. He's a lion hybrid. He used to belong to a circus, and was your typical "lion that does tricks". When he was found out he was brought to the facility. I have less ideas on what to do with this character. I don't think he generally minds being at the facility, but like, he's not hyped about it. I thought a good arc for him would be trying to find out what he wants to do, now that he's no longer at the circus. His archetype is the "athlete" or the "quiet but kind".
There's Pascale, pronouns they/them. They're a fish/marine monster. Theyre at the facility because they're echolocation doesn't work. They find everything and anything to do with the surface incredibly fascinating, but they're also incredibly shy. Spends most of their time in the underwater section of their enclosure. You spend a good chunk of time trying to get them to actually talk to you, until you decide to screw it, and go into the water to see if you can at least see them. Then they almost drown you because they didn't know humans couldn't breathe underwater lol. A shy awkward baby that you *need* to keep away from your phone or else they'll steal it and bring it underwater.
There's Rotri (kinda iffy on this name, but again all names are works in progresses), pronouns he/they/she/any pronouns. Theyre a basically a beast of darkness/yokai, instead of having a proper category. They're the newest of the monsters that came to the facility, and actually arrive a little later you start working there. They're a warrior type monster, who got mangled and left for dead. That's when the facility found him and nursed him back to the health. Not quite fully healed, theyre given to your department. Absolutely hates being here, believes that it was their right to die a warrior's death instead of being here. Dangerous, and will rip you to shreds if you were to step inside his enclosure. Of course, he warms up to you in time, but at the beginning he really doesn't like you.
The game kinda fell apart when I tired to think of a plot, or what kind of tests you actually perform on the monsters.... but I really liked the general idea and didn't want to give that up lol. One thing I knew I definitely wanted was a varied Mc. You can basically act towards any of the character how ever you want. You can be an absolute dick to Lynn, and chose not to complete any of your tasks just to fuck him over. Or, you could join him. You could chose to view the monsters as well, monsters and just a job you needed to get done. I always disliked Mcs that were on the meeker side, and wanted to give players the option of basically making all the monsters their bitches. Taking absolutely no shit from them. Or, since I know some players prefer to be shy or more submissive, play into the whole "there's are dangerous monsters that can overpower you and you are just a sweet little human forced to interact with them~~"
I guess there would also be routes to this game? As you decide whether to be on Lynn's side, or take a more neutral route of just wanting to get your job done and leaving, or trying to help Favian escape (and burning the facility to the ground, because like I said, Fav gots a bit of an anger problem lol).
Overall though, I think this game would ask the question of "where do you think these monsters places are?" Because on one hand, it's very true that none of them could survive if they were placed back in the natural habits, do they deserve captivity? They also can't really survive in human society. A lot of them kinda eat humans and are a dnager to them.... I had this while plot point written out were it's a hard rule that you're not allowed to go into Starling's enclosure if you're injured. You find out the reason for this rule is because Starling is a harpy, and when he discovers that you're injured, he views you as "prey" and will attack you. This was mainly used as a way to show the audience that the monsters can't live in human society, as Starling was the most tame and human friendly monster, but even he will hunt one down if given the chance.
If any of yall have any ideas for this, I would absolutely love to hear em! This idea has been sitting written down in my notebook for months, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with it lol.
I actually had an idea for another Otome game. I'm going to be quick about this one because this post is already getting long. I didn't actually have a name for this one written down but let's call it.... uh. Room Monsters for now (it's a play on words for room mates)
Ok so basically, you are a normal human who saw an ad for a boarding house. But after you sign into the lease, you discover that your roommates are actually a bunch kf mythical creatures! Normally it is law that the normal and abnormal can not mix, but your land lady is a demon and they take contracts very seriously, you're unable to get out of it.
Cast (I literally have no names written down for these characters, so we're going with titles, feel free to submit names if you want):
Vampire number 1: basically the mom/caretaker of the group. He's been looming after vampire number 2 for centuries, so he's used to looking after people. That said, he's also incredibly bossy, and sticks their nose into every problem with the belief that they can solve any problem. Uptight and controlling, but reliable. Is the only reason why rent gets paid every month and the boarders don't have to sell their soul to the land lady instead of rent.
Vampire number 2: the dreamer. They have big ideas and jumps from idea to idea without thinking of the consequences. You quickly learn why the other Vampire is the way that he is when you spend time with this character. They discarded their safety and the safety of the people around them, believing that they could never die, they lived this long already, right? Will drag you into their shenanigans often.
The SoulFul: before I get into his personally, I'm going to have to describe what a SoulFul is. Basically, they're a mythical creature I made up on my own. Do yall know about the idea of soulmates? And how's there's different soulmates aus? Basically SoulFuls are a group/race/kind of people were everyone has a soulmate or few. They live their life in greyscale, until they meet their soumate and the world turns colorful. Basically, whenever I make a mythical creature I look to see what humans need to survive, and turn on aspect up to hundred, the SoulFul need human connection to survive, and it gives their lives meaning.
This character though, hasn't meet any of his soulmates and refuses to realy get close to anyone else (soulmates can also be made, just like in real life), that is, until you come along and the first time he lays eyes on you it's an instant soup connection. He was content with living life quietly, and dully, but ever since you stumbles into his life he finally feels emotions for the first time.
And he absolutely hates it.
On one hand he wants you to leave so he never has to be around you anymore, but on the other he just wants to look at your memorizing face! It's absolutely torture for him and now he's starting to get feelings??? What are these?? He basically makes this new development your problem, and tries to get you to "fix it", even when you have no idea how.
The witch: they are a Narcissit. They belevie that they are the next greatest witch that ever existed, and they will show the world their power. Never mind the fact that about 80% of their spells/potions doesn't work like they're supposed to, and puts you and the other boarders in danger. Is problem child number 2 for the Vampire 1, as they keep accidentally raising the dead, or creating mind controlling mushrooms.
I had some other ideas for different boarders, like a werewolf, or a ghost or a Fae, but none of those characters I feel are very flushed out enough to get their own section. If any of yall have any ideas, would love to hear em lol.
I feel like this idea is better to actually create into a game. As I can imagine the general plot of the story. You need to get rent, so you need to get a job, but the only place that's willing to hire a human is a cat Cafe that I can't decide whether it would be funny if they hated humans, and the boss only hired you to find out what your weaknesses are, or if they lock them and lowkey wants to study you lol. 2 of the boarders are also problem initiators (vampire 2 and the witch), so you have shenanigans do with them as the witch will just create problems, and the Vampire will bring you to places you're Definitely Not Suppossrd to go as a human, but again, they don't think before they act. While the SoulFul is such a mess as you try to explain to him why he feels sad after watching a sad movie.
Originally I had this be a slice of life comedy webcomic. Each character was supposed to be Extremely Weird and you're supposed to originally think that mythical creatures in this world is just. Like That. Only to discover no, these people are just a bunch of weirdos lol. Like, I thought that vampire 1 could be apart of this order that has the goal to keep the two worlds, normal and the abnormal, separate. And you think "Oh, that's why he's such a hardass about rules and stuff", but then the reader actually meets the order and they're chill! They're fine! And you're like "Oh. I guess he's just Like That."
Or the SoulFull is just such a mess, that you think all SoulFulls are Like This, especially around their soulmate. But no, this one was just incredible antisocial and refused to befriend anyone until the Mc comes around and he's basically forced to have an emotional attachment.
Vampire 2 is all reckless and stuff, and you think that they're an outlier, but then you meet other members of their clan who also lived for like, forever, and find that they're somehow even more off the wall and reckless than them because they're bored with immortality and think that 2 is actually very responsible since they have a house and didn't get any of their mortal friends killed.
The Mc was also a character in tbe comic, and they're supposed to be your average everyday person. But as the comic slowly went on, you slowly realize that they are just as, if not, more crazy than the other boarders you just didn't notice because they were surrounded by other completely crazy and weird people.
I'm not sure if that was brief or not.... but if any of yall wanna talk about any of these characters/ideas I would love to hear em! I started thinking about these ideas and got back into them.
#i actually created art of a fee characters from Monster Sanctuary#like Lyyn#and Starling#and Favian#and Pascale#if you wanna see it let me know lol. theyre just sketches so not really that refined#i finally break my obey me streak to talk about my own ideas#honestly im a bit surpised this hasnt happened sooner#my post#not obey me
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Figment
Figment, Figment of my Imagination
I ring, and sing, tinge or hue of the dead
I spin my red head in my cozy bed
I said I said I'll get to it
Again, again,
The room spins, rinse the taste
Apply the toothpaste
And don't waste, yr space
Tidy up, hup ho
The show commences
The suspense is immense
But seriously, i rarely, barely, and scarcely
Embarrassedly, stand in
I miss the stars
My tiny heart scars
Northern light would free me
From this blight, tight my chest
I cannot rest, the best
Behest test of the holy crest
I spend my rending, unendingly
Candle flames as fan cuts air waves
Loaded video game saves
Unreal lights cast, color raves on
Flower, sun, & Rain,
Kill the past, Kill yr pain
Okay say what you mean pal
My mouth melded shut, knock’d flat
On my butt, cut the tape
Vape, crepe in Amsterdam, damn
The dutch interior is awfully inferior.
And no fever beaver, believer deceiver,
Receiver of this message, blessed is
The words like tiny buddhas
Who'da thunk it? Chunky
Monkey, it’s all a bit funky.
Hieroglyphics pictorial intelligence,
Expects correct verbal connects
From obscure texts with next to
No context, what’s next…
Ancient enchanted hex
My pictures are richer than
Cheesecake, never faked
Not once half baked, hey
Take a break-
Tonight for dinner, a nice juicy steak.
Large gaping eyes to summon
Among the few, monster spew
Gopher guts, crazy old nuts Hil
Who sputter and clutter, my rutter
Cuts thru grime, slime, and crime
Signant, newly acquired pigment
Ligament described in sublime
Form, hm… visual rhyme
To encase, the fragility of time
Since the beginning, there’s no winning
Grinning, i’m simmering, glimmering,
But shortly my heart halts
Bitter like hops and malts
Alternative, are representative
Attentive lectures performatively sure.
Dreaming of a golden shore
A take five breaks in my teeth
Crunchy, munchy, a bunch of candy
How dandy. You can barely stand me
I know, don't put on some show.
But what do you ever know,
To blow, slow, or escrow and hit
Below the belt, and spit on
Those you’ve writ judgments
Ill hold this grudge, ever since
Rain spills violently
Hell bentley spent quickly
Much too much gasoline,
Speckled frame gleans, with
A hue of red, and deadly sheen
Ween the spleen routine fixtures
Now picture this, split wrist
Writ trists of bliss hiss hiss
Snakes tongue rung the bell
“How could you tell?”
Technology could do little to dispel
The mythology, what hypocrisy
The hunger burns, churns in forums
Takes unholy forms, worms, squirms
Evil incarnate, gosh darn it
Necropolis apocalypse, in process of
The bosses, their losses, coin
Tosses- Heads, lead to new bets
New upsets, no rest.
Clutched deeply in my chest
What hope lies at the bitter
End of this burnt rope, it ties
Severed, leveled, in spite
Of petty things, like who is right?
Out of all the things people write
The wind pushes the technicolor
Kite, it might waver, but
Oh my, what a sight the
Ability of flight, its tight
Alright, it’s quite the fight
Unholy light, roly poly
Hides it face, solely,
Unformed, thru the earth
Wormed, and warmed,
You stole me, unalarmed
Storms formed, torn un born
Scorn of the earth-
Unasked for birth, what’s the worth
The ember that lies in the hearth
Eternally lit mirth
Scandals of vandals who mark
Walls not their own, lets light
One candle, to handle,
No dice, I’m wearing sandals
Words in terms, bitter salt sprinkled on fire burns
Take turns, my heart yearns, to at once, wrinkle
In spite my will continues to fight, holy light roly
Poly, I want to explain, my mind refrains, from
Doing so, yo-yo, train of thought goes, death throes
Patching together, sew phrasing, raising awareness
Life is a huge mess, my mind, how kind you thought
Of me, but can you really see the reality, oh moon beams
Seize, I believe, I receive the book, this outlook
Could cook, thoughts tender, come a while we’ll take
A bender, explore the splendor, you big spender
Render unto me, wind whistling thru the trees
And dirt speckling my freckled knee, heckled by bees
Free to wander, deepened the bond with her, spurs
Exotic furs, yours and mine, a better time, redder
I bet to confer, insure, alas it’s a cold and lonely life
Lass, don't sass, exacerbate, please elaborate, exonerate
“I need you to check the shipment of that crate” Great.
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I posted 15,312 times in 2022
55 posts created (0%)
15,257 posts reblogged (100%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@assassinationtipsforladies
@elytrians
@professorsparklepants
@fenixfoxtrot510
@mint-stone
I tagged 243 of my posts in 2022
#madeleine's mic - 22 posts
#anon - 21 posts
#pla spoilers - 17 posts
#my writting - 11 posts
#pokemon sv - 4 posts
#green should have fought gio in frlg and i will die on that hill - 3 posts
#giovanni - 3 posts
#nice - 2 posts
#i'm unfortunately self aware enough to know that if presented with the opportunity to own a litteral firery mare (rapidash) i would take it - 2 posts
#i love this so much - 2 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#i'm unfortunately self aware enough to know that if presented with the opportunity to own a litteral firery mare (rapidash) i would take it
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Hiya! Could I get Giovanni with 🏳️🌈, ❤️🩹, 🥖, and 📖 for the ask meme? Thanks so much~!
🏳️🌈- Orientation headcanon
Bi but leans more towards women
❤️🩹- Angsty headcanon
Periodically he'll find a handkerchief or other belonging that Silver had lost before being taken around the house. He's kept all of them.
🥖- Food headcanon
He's a good cook, but almost no one knows this
📖- AU I’d like to see them in
I have a half baked equestrian au that's probably never gonna go anywhere, but I also think a vampire au would be fun
5 notes - Posted August 1, 2022
#4
I've come to understand that actually the Pokemon fandom doesn't have a clue what they want! They whine about how much they want an jerk rival like Blue or Silver all the time! We get Bede and Melli and they're the worst most annoying characters ever and they hate them!!! And not in an affectionate way like they hate Blue and Silver!
Funny, I thought Bede was Rose's horribly abused son who's worse off than N and Lillie combined /s
I think part of it is that, in a cast of characters singing your praises constantly, the asshole ones will stand out more. And I feel like the older games did a bit less of that. There's at least not like... a chosen one vibe to the player character in Kanto or Johto. Your just a kid who keeps ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time.
(Not to mention bland as hell nice rivals making the mean ones seem even worse)
5 notes - Posted April 21, 2022
#3
I know there's going to be a separate unrelated or loosely related twist "villain" late game because that's just how they're doing things now for whatever reason
But I wish I'd recorded my audible groan of disappointment when I saw Team Star in the trailer
5 notes - Posted September 7, 2022
#2
They will really do anything to replace HMs except letting you ride your own team huh
22 notes - Posted August 3, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Sakaki | Giovanni & Silver
Characters: Silver (Pokemon), Sakaki | Giovanni
Additional Tags: Team Rocket (Pokemon), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Torture, Organized Crime, Tags May Change, let's play how much can I make you hate Pryce
Summary:
Silver and Green's first attempt at escaping The Mask of Ice failed.
He was quick to ensure there would not be a second.
Years later, a split second of not-fully-snuffed-out rebellion lands Silver in the depths of Team Rocket's headquarters.
23 notes - Posted April 26, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#I love the rapidash tag because I could slap it up on Instagram for people who know me irl and no one would bat an eye#And wow I did not do very many original posts this year#I think last year this was mostly one shots#So that's a bit depressing
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The Message. Symbiote!August. Blood, gore, violence, guns, death. August in pursuit of his goal is a man without mercy.
Once upon a time there was a man. And then there wasn’t.
Let’s try again.
Once upon a time in the deep dark underground, August Walker found his tipping point. His eyes rolled over white and what he saw was this:
Death. Only death. And he knew that even he would fall into its cold embrace; even he would perish and leave his body for the worms. August Walker made a bargain then, with shards of silver underneath his nails and the biting hateful whine of the drill as it caught and tore at his muscles. He said let me live and I will—
August Walker wakes. He tastes blood and swallows down the last vestige of the dream; it didn’t happen, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Anger roils to the surface and shakes itself out into his limbs. It tastes adrenaline and the sourness of fear, savoring it, transmuting it into something they can use. Rise and shine, my pretty thing. There’s work to do.
Once upon a time there was a monster. It fell to earth in a shower of sparks; it melted snow and blasted the flesh from the bones of little creeping things. It raged in an empty valley where all its food was small and frightened, and it gave itself a name.
Anger.
They walk together, Anger a writhing mantle over August’s shoulders. They do not stop for the trill of the metal detector. They do not stop for some poor soul’s strangled halt! And they do not stop when Agency men pour out from offices and corridors. There is work to be done.
Anger lets the bullets land; August grins as he feels his cells separate and mend in an instant. It hurts, of course it fucking hurts, but the endorphins sing through his veins and feed his Anger; they feed him too and together they bathe in bloodlust. And you love it. It’s like fire in you. Come. Show them what we’re capable of. Soon there is no sound but fading gasps and the crunch of teeth beneath August’s boots.
August leaves red footprints as he walks; he is all eyes and teeth and blood, and he is without mercy. He trails his hand along the wall on the way to Erika Sloane’s office, and in the marks he leaves behind is writ the story of his meteoric rise within the agency, his betrayal and disillusionment, long nights of stale coffee and the blue glow of the laptop screen reflected in his reading glasses. He opens the door and says I have a message for you.
I saw a hole in the world and I wanted to make it bigger. I wanted to dig into its molten core and drag this world’s cancer into the light. I wanted to rain down fire and ash. I wanted. Sloane watches with wide eyes. She doesn’t understand, can’t understand, because a dead man has risen in her office and he is furious.
No one could’ve survived that fall.
Am I no one? There is no right answer and so Sloane says nothing. August runs a hand across his scars and bares his teeth in a smile like bones in the desert. I nearly saved this nasty, wretched world. I was so close, so fucking close.
You’re a fool and a murderer. You killed so many, and for what? The gun is in her hand and the bullets are buried in August’s flesh but it doesn’t matter; Anger worms them out one by one and keeps him standing; they fall to the floor in a dull and thudding rain. They are not dead, not even close; they are invigorated by the burn and tear and the creeping crawling sickness of cells regenerating in double time. And Erika Sloane sees her end reflected in eyes gone strange and pale.
Do you remember Oslo in the spring? How good I made you feel? Hold on to that memory, Erika, because we’re going to make you hurt.
Death is a spiral, a slow dance with entropy toward the end of all things. Those who are lucky feel it tugging gently; they follow its call in a narrowing circle down to darkness. Others find Death when it knocks them sideways off their paths; they fall and are gone before they realize what has happened.
And then there’s Sloane.
August is not quick, nor is he gentle; he takes her apart by inches, and when she is beyond even screaming, Anger descends to sip from her cells as she goes silent. The last breath is something exquisite. Taste it with me, darling. Anger curls around August’s tongue; together they savor the last of Sloane as she departs.
One down. So many more to go. August makes his way through back rooms and secret tunnels, leaving carmine footprints in his wake. The world can wait. He ascends through a grate in a back alley, metal squealing on concrete. We’re still hungry. If August draws the stares of passers-by it doesn’t matter. They are gone in an instant, in the space between breaths. They are hunting.
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Playing with Fire
Hope you had a Happy Valentine's Day, @bloody-no-kissu! I stepped in as your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer 😁💖
The prompt I chose to go with was: fantasy, the princess falls for the dragon instead – marinette is a princess and bc of a curse she is locked in a tower with a dragon (luka). while she waits for the destined knight to save her from her curse she spends more and more time with luka. they fall in love.
So I did take a few liberties on this to weave it together, but I really hope you like it! Huge thanks to @writtenbyrain for the beta read on this!
Read on Ao3
First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Marinette had been told the story of her curse so many times she could recite it by heart.
“You were a baby,” her dad would tell her. “A tiny little thing, still all wrapped up in diapers. And that… thing—” he always growled at that, as if the dragon she’d been found curled up with had personally insulted him. He would shake his head, and give her a pitying look. “—It stole you from us. And by the time we found you, you were already cursed… already...” he would gesture to her at that point, indicating the way she was every night as soon as the moon slipped above the horizon.
Every night she was engulfed in a blue flame that made it impossible for anyone to come near. Impossible for her to be touched.
What she was never able to find out, though, was why. Why the dragon had apparently chosen her to curse, why it hadn’t killed her outright when she was barely out of diapers. Why she kept dreaming of sleeping safely within its coils, her fire cooled as if that was where she had always belonged.
She knew where it lived now. Everyone knew. It had taken up residence in a lonely tower high up on the mountain. Everyone said it was guarding a valuable secret; why else would it be there? Of course, people had tried to find out, although they often came back singed and babbling. Something about a dark sorcerer or a beautiful prince or a shapeshifter or… the stories always varied.
Finally, a reward was offered. The dragon had been a menace for far too long, the writ proclaimed. Anyone able to bring back its head would be handsomely compensated.
More people flocked to the cause: soldiers from far away places wearing shiny armor and bearing sharp, glinting swords, sorcerers with staffs and books claiming they had this method or another to calm the beast. None of them returned.
Night after night, Marinette’s flame burned hotter, brighter. And night after night she dreamed of the dragon. She couldn’t tell anymore what was memory and what was a dream. She thought she remembered the dragon plucking her from the river she’d fallen into, breathing life and fire into her lungs, curling up around her to keep her warm until her parents found her. But that couldn’t have been true. The dragon was dangerous, everyone said so. And it had left her with this unbearable curse.
“I’m going after it,” she proclaimed to her parents after the worst night she'd had in all of her eighteen years of bearing the curse.
Her dreams had been strong that night. She had awoken to her mom shaking her, screaming, desperately pleading with her to wake up. Her hands and arms up to the elbows had been irreparably burned in the process. It wasn't until Marinette had struggled into consciousness that she realized she’d been burning their house down in her sleep.
Her parents shared a look after her declaration. One of, “We shouldn’t let her, but what else can we do?”
Marinette winced as she caught a glimpse of her mom’s burned forearms, still wrapped in bandages and salves to soothe the shiny, blistered skin underneath. Her eyes slid over to the corner where she slept, with only her silhouette outlined in the charcoal her fire had left behind.
“I have to do this,” she said resolutely. “If there’s one good thing to come of this—” she gestured to herself and to the flames that spit and crackled around her “—it means I can’t be burned if I go at night. With the money, you can fix what happened. I'll stay in the stone tower after the dragon's gone where I can't hurt anyone else. Everyone wins," she finished glumly.
Her dad sighed in resignation and wrapped an arm around her mom’s shoulders.
So the next day just before dusk, they packed a meal for her to take with her, kissed her fondly on both her cheeks, and waved goodbye as she started up the path.
For it was goodbye. A sacrifice Marinette was more than willing to make.
As she trudged up the mountain path, the forest grew darker and more foreboding. The only saving grace was that as the light faded, her flame started burning, providing her with light to see by, although she did catch a branch or two on fire as she went. She poured her water out carefully on each one, putting it out without wasting her own resources. If she ran out before she made it to the stone tower, it was entirely possible she’d burn the entire forest down, and it would spread back to her village, back to her parents’ house.
She soldiered on, even as brambles tore at her skirt and arms, as she grew weary of walking, as she ran lower and lower on life-saving water.
It was the dead of night when she finally reached the tower, and the dragon wasn’t anywhere in sight. She walked up to the tower using the flagstone path, admiring the well-manicured garden from afar. The tower was quiet, almost as if it was slumbering along with the dragon.
She ran her hand along the cool stone wall as she mounted the steps one by one, dreading what she might find when she got to the top.
Halfway up, though, she ran into—well, if there was a beautiful prince trapped here, then it must be him. He was tall and pale, with a shock of dark hair and enthralling blue eyes framed by deep purple circles, as if he never slept. He seemed startled to see her at first, though she was used to that. A girl on fire was a startling sight.
But then he reached out a hand, smiling. She flinched away from him. His kind smile shifted to sympathy and he dropped his hand.
“That’s quite a power you’ve got,” he noted easily.
She shifted uncomfortably away from him. He didn’t seem affected by the heat she always emanated, but she was still careful not to get too close to anyone.
“The dragon cursed me with it when I was a small child,” she said.
His head quirked sideways, as if he were appraising her or trying to remember something. When he didn’t respond, Marinette tried again.
“I’ve come for the reward. Is it asleep?”
“He,” the man said stiffly. “And he’s gone for now. He disappears at night. You’re welcome to come back in the morning to try your luck.”
There was a note of despondency in his tone, and he scooted past her in the narrow stairwell to continue on his way down.
She considered continuing up the stairs, but if the dragon was gone, there was no point to it. She hesitated before she followed him—the prince, he had to be—down and back outside.
There was a pool of moonlight in the very center of the garden, and he walked over to it and lay down as if basking in it. The sigh he let out was at once content and terribly lonely. For some reason, it pulled at her heart. She knew that feeling. She had come to terms with her curse, with her lot in life. But that didn’t make it any better when she was unable to sleep soundly without worrying about her flames burning out of control.
She came as close to him as she dared and sat cross-legged on the flagstone path.
“You’re not… trapped here?” she asked. Every story she’d ever heard of the handsome young prince was that he was trapped, doomed, kept prisoner by the monster.
He didn’t open his eyes, but he smiled again. “Oh, I am.”
“But…” she glanced around. There were no fences, no guards, no magical barriers. She had walked right in, after all. “Can’t you just… leave?”
He did open an eye at that. “Can’t you just… put that fire out?” He smirked before he closed his eyes again and settled with his face towards the moon. “I’ve been trapped here for longer than I care to remember and now…” He looked over at her again, his blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. “So are you.”
She looked around again. Still, nothing that would prevent her, or him for that matter, from leaving. He sighed.
“The dragon, he’s been waiting for you. That… well, some probably call it a curse, but it's more like a bond.”
“A bond?”
“You were a small child, you said? When it happened?”
She nodded, and he nodded back in answer.
“The dragon was young, too. A child in his own right. He wouldn’t have known…” He sighed and closed his eyes again. “He wouldn’t have known that if he shared his breath with a human, he’d be claiming them. Bonded with them for the rest of his life, tethered to them. Cursed to share a half-life with them.”
“I’m… sorry... “ She struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. “You’re saying… I’ve been claimed?”
“If I had to guess, I'd say your fire only burns at night, right? As soon as the sun sets? Maybe only while you slept at first, but it's gotten worse lately?”
She blinked at him. Her mother’s burned arms floated back to the forefront of her memory.
“You have a fire burning in you that’s never been yours to control. If you had stayed away from him any longer, you would’ve burnt out of control until everyone you knew and loved was dead. You’re his and he’s yours, for better or worse.”
“I… wait… you’re saying…”
“You’re intended to be either the dragon's bride or his killer,” he finished bitterly, turning his head away from her. “Not that he has much say in the matter, either, if it’s any consolation.”
“But if I do… kill him…” she started, grimacing at the thought, “do you think that would lift my curse?”
“Yours and mine, too.”
“You don’t look very cursed to me,” she muttered. Other than being trapped, as he’d claimed, he seemed perfectly normal. Every bit the beautiful prince she’d heard tales of. With the moonlight falling over him, he was paler still and he looked like a marble statue that had fallen on the ground. His shaggy dark hair flopped over his ears in ragged lines, and even resting he looked tense.
To her surprise, he started chuckling, although there wasn’t any mirth to it.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” he said, although he sat up and faced her. “I just wonder if you’ll still think that in the morning.”
“What happens in the morning?”
“The dragon comes back,” he said simply, and he pushed himself up to stand. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll turn in. I have a feeling I’ll sleep better knowing my savior has come at last.”
He quirked his lips in a funny sideways smile, then offered her a hand again. She shook her head at him and he rolled his eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I promise.”
She hesitated. The fear of hurting him flared strong and her fire started flickering and sputtering along with her anxiety. His eyes softened, and he reached forward, into her aura of flames. To her complete and utter surprise, his hand came through unscathed.
“I told you, it’s okay,” he said.
Stunned, Marinette laid her hand in his and he helped her stand up. Her fire raced along his arm and arced over his body until he was just as engulfed as she was. But rather than being harmed by it, it seemed he was helping her with it, sharing some of the burden. In fact, when he released her, she looked down at her hands and was shocked to find that the moonlight was the only thing illuminating them.
She looked back up at him and he smiled, although it was still tinged with sadness, and he gestured with his head to the spot of moonlight that still spilled across the grass.
She ran, giddy to be released from her curse for the first night in her entire life and fearful that it would come back before she could race back to the safety of the stone path. As she rolled in the cool grass, she couldn't help the giggles that escaped her, the pure bliss of being safe under the stars overtaking her. When she finally stilled, she sighed as she looked up at the bright, twinkling lights, unobscured for the first time. They were so clear, all the way up there, like she could reach out and touch one. She lifted her hand up and pretended she could, cupping the full moon between her hands as if she held it close.
She’d gotten so used to the flames crackling around her that without them the world seemed deathly silent. Peaceful, but eerie.
When she sat back up and turned to look back at the path, she found that the prince had disappeared. To turn in, as he’d said, although he hadn’t told her where she might sleep.
She looked at her hands again, so foreign to her without the bright blue flames. They looked smaller. More fragile.
Suddenly, she realized that was the one thing protecting her from the dragon. The reason she’d felt so confident in coming up here. She couldn’t be burned at night because she was already engulfed in flames. But he’d taken her flames away. He’d gifted her the ability to roll in the grass without burning anything down, sure, but he’d also stolen her protection.
Even though her flames weren’t snapping around her, she felt the panic rise up in her chest. What if he was a dark sorcerer after all? What if it was his job to lure people here and steal their power? What if this had all been a trap?
She stumbled to her feet and clenched her fists. He’d seemed so kind. She’d trusted him. She hadn’t thought he would steal from her.
She marched back inside, uncaring if the grass sizzled under her feet or not. The tower stairs only went up, so she followed them, winding her way up to the top, unsure of what she might say or do if she found him, but certain that she had to find him regardless.
The sound of heavy, deep breathing hit her first. It wasn’t human, that was for sure. It was something much bigger.
She tiptoed around the last bend, her fear climbing with each step.
She held her breath as a large room at the top came into view. One wall was completely open, and there was a huge, sleek, black, serpentine figure wound tightly around itself in the moonlight that spilled into the corner. One wing was draped over its head, like a curtain.
She held her breath as she backed out of the room.
Hadn’t he said the dragon wouldn’t come back until morning? Hadn’t he said it disappeared at night? Hadn’t he said—
She cursed the dark sorcerer, the beautiful prince, whoever he was, under her breath as she turned and tripped her way back down the stairs. He had also said she couldn’t leave, but based on the way he’d lied about everything else, that’s exactly what she would do. She would run, all the way back to her parents, to her village, even if it meant sleeping on a stone bed the rest of her life.
As she ran towards the forest, her steps started sizzling underneath her again, and her hands started to flame up before she could stop them. Her tears dissipated before they even had a chance to fall.
From the top of the tower, she heard a strangled cry, still inhuman, but closer to it, and filled with pain. It spurred her on, although the fire was starting to burn white around her hands, stinging her painfully, and she shook her hands, trying to put it out. The farther she ran, the more the fire seeped into her skin, making her cry out.
There was a great whoosh of wind behind her, then footsteps, matching her pace, although more spread out. The pain was blinding, but still she pushed on against whatever unknown barrier was causing it. She cradled her hands to her chest and struggled as each step forward was now a shooting, searing, white-hot bolt of pain through her.
Strong hands caught her from behind and pulled her backwards—the hands of the dark, beautiful sorcerer. She kicked against him, trying to pull away, but he held fast. The pain behind her eyes cleared and she realized he was taking the fire away from her again.
“You… can’t… leave…” he huffed as he dragged her backwards. She tried to claw away from him every step of the way.
Finally, though, he’d pulled her back to the clearing and dropped her on the stone path unceremoniously. She bolted back up to her feet and he caught her around her middle and shoved her back down, moving at the same time to stand in front of her and block her path.
“You can’t leave,” he panted again. “Or we both die.”
“I’m supposed to believe you’re kidnapping me for my own good?” she spat and scrambled back to her feet. “And who the hell are you, anyway?”
“Sorry. Luka. I’m Luka.” He held his hand out for her and she smacked it away. He winced. “You have every right to be upset. But listen to me. I’m just trying to protect you. You can’t leave this tower without me.”
He was still trying to catch his breath, and she noticed for the first time that his eyes had changed to serpentine slits and there was a distinct black sheen on the backs of his hands that worked its way up his forearms.
As she watched, he grabbed her hand and shivered as she was once again engulfed in blue flames and he returned to normal.
"We're connected," he explained softly. "We share the fire. It's mine in the morning and yours at night. Now that you've come here, you can't leave unless you're either with me or there's no fire to share, or it rips us both apart. So for your own sake, you either stay put or you kill me, do you understand?"
He released her hand, and she looked at them incredulously. That he'd taken her fire away and given it back was proof enough of what he was saying.
"Kill you?" she asked, his words sinking in through the remnants of pain behind her eyes. "As in… you're the…the...?"
"Yes."
"But you're…" she gestured to him, to his humanness, and he shifted uncomfortably under her bewildered gaze.
"I know. Like I said, it's yours at night. That was the first time in 18 years I've had the moonlight on my scales."
She gasped for breath as her fire started spitting around her, casting off sparks that came dangerously close to the grass. "I can't… you're human, or half-human or… I can't… I can't do this!"
"That's okay. Hey. It's okay." His hands hovered over hers, not quite touching her, leaving her fire with her. "What's your name? Can you tell me your name?"
"Ma-Ma-Marinette…" she stuttered as she attempted to keep breathing.
"Okay, Ma-Ma-Marinette." He smiled, trying to put her at ease. "Let's just take this slow, okay? Would you be willing to stay here tonight with me? We can talk more in the morning."
"You're a dragon in the morning," she said, then a hysteric giggle burst out of her at how ridiculous that sounded.
He chuckled with her and laid the back of his hand against hers. As her fire arced across to him, his eyes turned into slits again and his scales slid over his arm. "I don't have to be anymore."
She gaped at him as he pulled his hand away again and slid back to humanity.
"One night. That's all I'm asking."
Her dream popped back in her head and she blushed even before the question was out of her mouth. "If I sleep… you know, touching you, or like, against you… would that…?" She gestured to the fire still burning around her and then to him.
He smiled again and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, I think so. But everything's stone, so you won't burn anything down if you'd… you know, if you'd rather not."
She considered for a moment until her curiosity got the better of her.
"One night," she agreed.
He let out a sigh of relief and gestured for her to lead the way.
As she mounted the stone steps again, her fire—his fire, she corrected herself, he'd shared it with her—bounced off the smooth stone and flickered along with her nerves. This time at the top of the stairs, she paused to look at the room Luka had called his own for 18 years.
There was a nest of pillows piled in the corner, a stack of books with open pages fluttering in the breeze that flowed through the wide opening, a lyre leaning against the smooth wall, and bits and pieces of armor lined up along the wall like trophies. She recognized a few here and there and gulped. No wonder they hadn't returned.
She half-turned to him, her question dying in her throat, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line.
"Tomorrow," he said, gesturing for her to continue past everything. She did, but paused before her flames touched the pillows.
"Here," he said, and threw out a hand for her to take. Tentatively, she took hold of him and watched as he shivered and his transformation took hold.
He kept eye contact with her as scales slithered over his arms, his hands turned to claws, wings erupted from somewhere around his shoulders, and his body elongated until it was a solid length of powerful muscle.
She slid her hand to what was about his neck and he blinked slowly at her before lowering himself to the pillows and coiling his body tightly around itself, tucking his legs in what seemed to be a familiar position.
It was a bit awkward to maneuver herself into his coils without taking her hand off him, but they managed and he draped his wing over her, for warmth she assumed, because the breeze that was drifting in was nipping at her exposed skin. And he was warm, she realized, like having his fire returned to him made him a living furnace.
She could see it, when she twisted to look at him: a deep blue illuminating the thinner skin at the base of his neck and flaring brighter in his chest as he breathed.
She curled into him and fell asleep with his deep, heavy breathing in her ears and his sleek scales shifting under her hands.
#miraculous ladybug#ml fic#mlb fic#LBSC Exchange 2021#lukanette#lukanette endgame#marinette dupain cheng#luka couffaine#dragon!luka#cursed!marinette#fic title: playing with fire
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To Thaw Her Frozen Heart (Rosnali) - Athena2
Summary: Denali and Rosé are childhood best friends who love playing with Denali’s ice powers at night. After an accident, Rosé leaves and Denali learns to live without her. When they’re suddenly reunited, will they be able to recover what they lost, or will fate tear them apart again?
(A Frozen AU).
A/N: So I originally had an to do a Frozen AU with Branjie–but I came up with the idea while I was writing Royals, and the overall vibes were so similar that I buried it in my docs and never went back to it. I recently had the idea to do it with Rosnali instead, and I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much to Writ for encouraging me to do this, helping me brainstorm, and betaing! I couldn’t have done this without them.
Please leave feedback if you’d like!
Title from Frozen Heart from Frozen.
—
“Nali, do you wanna build a snowman?”
Denali jumps out of bed at Rosie’s knock. She throws open the door and grins at her best friend. “Let’s go!”
They keep their voices down as they scamper over the polished floors. They should be in bed, but the portrait room has been their spot since forever, luring them in with high ceilings and big windows that are swallowed by moonlight.
Of all the things her and Rosie do together—chasing each other through the castle for a game of tag; picking fresh berries from the castle bushes and passing them back and forth until they both had purple lips; laughing and spinning around in dresses too big for them as they play dress-up with old clothes in the attic—this is their favorite. A winter wonderland just for them.
The doors open and Denali covers the floor in a blanket of snow. Denali’s parents don’t want her using her powers at all, and these nights are their secret. Denali knows Rosie will never tell, just like she’ll never tell that Denali broke the vase in the entrance hall and still sleeps with her stuffed wolf. Just like Denali will never tell that Rosie is the one who sneaks chocolates from the kitchen and checks under her bed for monsters. There was something sacred in their friendship, something they understood but couldn’t explain, a sense that they knew each other as well as themselves, and always would.
Tonight’s snowman smiles over them as they make snow angels, giggling and staring up at the paintings of kings and queens and explorers on the walls.
“Maybe when we’re grown-ups we can go on adventures and stuff,” Rosie says excitedly. “We can ride horses and fight monsters and—“
“And climb mountains! And swim in the oceans!” Maybe someone would make a painting of them. Denali would definitely smile for it, unlike the mean faces frowning around them.
“Yes!”
“What if you can climb a mountain now?” Denali asks. “I’ll make little ice mountains for you.”
Rosie jumps up and brushes the snow off her, her grin brighter than the moon as Denali lifts her off the ground with a small ice column. She makes another, a little taller, and Rosie leaps onto it. She jumps on them all, higher and higher, a brave adventurer.
“Rosie, slow down!” Denali shoots ice columns as fast as she can, but Rosie leaps for the next one just after her feet touch the last.
“Look how high I can jump!”
“Wait!”
Rosie jumps higher and farther than her other jumps—far past the column Denali had ready for her. Denali desperately shoots another ice blast, hoping it lands under Rosie’s feet–
But it doesn’t.
It hits Rosie instead, and she crashes to the floor with a thud that echoes through the room and every part of Denali’s heart.
Denali doesn’t breathe as she runs to where Rosie is crumpled on the floor, not moving.
“Rosie?” Denali shakes her shoulder gently, but she doesn’t wake up.
The snow had cushioned some of her fall, and Rosie doesn’t look hurt, not like that time she fell outside and scraped both her legs. But Rosie was so brave that she didn’t even cry that time, just sniffled a little when her mom cleaned her up.
She’s not crying now, but she’s not waking up or moving either, when she’s normally always in motion, laughing or dancing or singing. She looks so small. She’s a year older and a little taller than Denali, but now she looks tiny, like she’s always been the smaller one.
Her head slumps back, and Denali stares in shock. In Rosie’s soft red hair, there’s a streak of white. Denali’s never seen hair turn a different color like this, and it can’t be good.
“Hang on, Rosie. I’ll get my mom and dad.”
Slippers are pulled on and doors are slammed as Denali wakes her parents, then Rosie’s, since they’re the royal advisers and sleep next door.
Rosie is blinking awake when Denali leads them back in, her teeth chattering as she shivers in the snow. The snow. Denali’s heart sinks. Now her parents know what they’ve been doing, and she and Rosie will be in so much trouble, and what if they can’t be friends anymore? What if something bad happens to Rosie? Denali forces back the tears in her eyes.
“Rosé!” Rosie’s parents run to her, and Denali runs too, only to be held back by a hand on her shoulder.
“We talked about this, Denali,” her mother hisses. “These powers aren’t something you can play with. Rosie needs a healer, or she’ll freeze solid.”
Denali wants to protest, tell her mom that she’s careful and tonight was an accident, that she would never hurt Rosie on purpose, but she hears the echo of her mother’s words, hears Rosie’s parents whispering about how cold she is, and knows tonight is all her fault. Hot tears flood the collar of her pajamas.
“There’s a healer up north who can fix her,” Denali’s mom says to Rosie’s parents, calm and cool like the queen she is.
The whispers continue, too hushed for Denali to hear, but she knows they’re taking Rosie from her.
“What healer? Can I come?” Denali asks.
“No, Denali.”
“But—“
Her mother flashes her a stern look, and Denali quiets.
Rosie’s parents scoop her up and carry her out, and that’s the last time Denali sees her.
—
Denali watches the following years from her bedroom window.
Rosie and her parents move to another castle. Denali writes her letters, but she never gets a reply back, not a single word in Rosie’s loopy handwriting. Without Rosie, her powers fade for a while, tiny pricks of ice when she once made mountains, but when they return, it’s with the ferocity of an ice storm. She knows it’s worse when she’s missing Rosie, like when her birthday passes without their tradition of having tea in the rose garden, or when the lake freezes over and there’s no one to skate on it with. At those times, the ice digs into Denali’s heart and flows outward, tears freezing on her cheeks as everything around her frosts over.
She stays in her room all day, even takes meals there when she can’t stop freezing the table because a laughing redhead should be beside her, and ice covers her room like dust of a life unlived.
The castle remains shut, just Denali and her parents inside, so there’s no chance of her hurting someone while she spends her days inside, working on control.
Don’t miss her so much. You can visit her when you can control your powers, her parents instruct, slipping thick white gloves over her hands. Conceal it, don’t feel it.
So Denali conceals it. She takes all the memories with Rosie–the time she was stuck in bed with a cold and Denali read to her all day; snowy mornings warmed by hot chocolate and smiles; golden autumn days shining with leaves–buries them inside her heart, and lets it freeze over like the lake. She is the lake now, and everything she wants to feel is pushed underneath, sinking to the earth. A polished surface is all they’ll see of her.
By 18, she’s given up on the letters. By 19, she can spend a few hours outside her room without freezing everything.
By 21, the lakes of her heart are beyond thawing.
—
Denali can’t remember the last time so many people were in the castle. She hears the crowd’s distant hum, ecstatic voices streaming to the grand hall for her birthday feast, where she’s expected in five minutes. But she can’t go with her gloves on, and every time she peels them off her shaking hands, her fingertips freeze.
She takes a deep breath. She can do this. The gloves come off, and she’s normal. Just a normal princess about to see hundreds of people for the first time in fifteen years. The castle already feels too small, too crowded, too loud, with everyone inside, disturbing the silence that normally consumes things. She’s not even inside yet and she can see them staring at her, judging her, wondering why the castle was locked all these years. If she can’t control her powers, they’ll know why.
She strides out, icy blue dress rippling like water around her. There was a time when this was all she wanted. All those hours with Rosie, trying on dresses and imagining wearing them to balls, Denali glowing with the confidence of a princess and Rosie glowing with confidence that was all her own, title or not. Now, all Denali wants is to hide in her room.
The air flies out of Denali’s lungs when she sees a redhead in the crowd. It could be anyone in the world, she tells herself. She’s just seeing things because she’s stressed, and the ice pricking at her fingers proves it.
Though she used to dream of feasts and has missed countless ones over the years, this one is nothing special, nothing to make her regret missing the others. There are food and drinks, nobles and leaders, handshakes and small talk. Her parents do the talking; Denali just has to smile on occasion, a perfect princess, and even smiling is hard enough when she’s done so little of it the past years, her face a frozen mask. Not like the days when all it took was a smile from Rosie to make Denali smile too.
The dishes are cleared, and everyone walks to the ballroom for a night of dancing. Denali’s wondering if she can duck out early when there’s a tap on her shoulder.
“It’s really you,” the person says, and Denali turns and looks into eyes she’s never forgotten.
Rosie.
Denali doesn’t believe it at first. Maybe she doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to believe that her childhood best friend is a grown-up too. That their world of tea parties and dress-up and games is truly gone. Maybe it would be easier to believe if she and Rosie had grown up together like they should have, if she had watched Rosie grow taller, seen her face change into the person looking at her now.
And the person looking at her, though older, is completely, unmistakably Rosie. Denali would know her anywhere, even after all this time with Rosie only existing in her memory. The same soft, coppery hair with its streak of white, the same warm eyes that would light up in mischief, the same blinding smile unleashed without hesitation around Denali.
Denali falters. She doesn’t know how many times she imagined seeing Rosie again, rehearsing her words, but now she’s speechless. Where does she start? How did the healer fix her? Why didn’t she answer Denali’s letters? Does she hate Denali? Is Rosie still the same person who dreamt of adventure and liked honey on her bread?
“Rosie,” Denali breathes, and it’s somehow everything at once.
—
Denali takes Rosie to the portrait room. The faces on the wall are old friends, more welcoming than the ballroom crowd they’re avoiding.
They sit on the floor like they used to, and it’s so familiar that Denali can almost pretend the past 15 years didn’t happen. That they’ve never been apart.
“We used to come here all the time,” Rosie says. “I swear I’ve had dreams about this room.”
“You probably have. We basically lived in here,” Denali says. “Do you remember that time it rained all day and we had a picnic in here?”
“And we tried to make sandwiches but you dropped the stuff all over the kitchen–”
“And you tried to cook an apple over the fireplace and almost burned your arm,” Denali says, and then they’re both laughing, a sound that makes everything seem more real, less like a dream. She has Rosie back, and her heart is lighter than it’s been in years, beating strong with a new joy.
But then there’s a pause, and as much as Denali wants to tell stories all night, she needs to know what happened after Rosie left.
“How come you’re at the ball?” Denali asks.
“I was invited,” Rosie says. “I wouldn’t crash a party.”
“You would and you know it, Rosie,” Denali says.
“I always liked how you called me Rosie,” she says, eyes on the floor. “Everyone else calls me Rosé. That’s all I ever go by now.”
Denali swallows, wondering how else Rosie–Rosé–has changed, if there’s only a little of Rosie left in her. “Where do you live now? What happened after …” she can’t bring up the accident yet.
“What do you mean?” Rosé asks. “My parents got hired as advisers to the lord of Riverton, and that’s why we left. Your parents recommended them for it.”
Denali shakes her head. “You left because there was an accident. We were playing, and I hurt you by mistake, and I’m so sorry–”
“Accident?” Rosé bites her lip in confusion. “There wasn’t an accident.”
“Yes there was.”
“I don’t—I don’t remember that, Denali. I swear I don’t.” Her voice is sincere, and Denali already knows she’s telling the truth, because Rosé rubs her neck when she lies.
But how can she not remember? Denali can’t forget the sound of Rosé falling, how limp she was as Denali tried to wake her, how she was carried away without a goodbye. How it was all Denali’s fault.
“I wrote you letters,” Denali says, changing gears. “You never wrote back.”
“I never got letters from you!” Rosé’s eyes are wide. “I wrote you dozens of letters and never got anything back. Something’s wrong here.” She wrings her hands together, clearly stressed; Denali remembers how, anytime she was in a bad mood, Rosé would always ask how she was feeling and what she needed, a great communicator. This confusion must be eating her up, and Denali needs to fix it.
Clarity hits her like ice, and Denali knows who she needs to talk to.
Her parents.
—
In the ballroom, Denali’s parents are talking and laughing like nothing is wrong. Like they haven’t lied to Denali for most of her life. She doesn’t have an ounce of guilt as she pulls them into the hall, mind spinning with what to call them out on first.
“What’s this about, Denali?” her mother asks. “We’re in the middle of a ball for your birthday, if you didn’t notice–”
“You’ve been lying to me this whole time! You made Rosé and her parents leave, and you never sent my letters! And Rosé—she has no idea the accident happened! Did you block her memory or something?”
The queen sighs, sensing Denali’s anger too much to deny her. “We didn’t do it. Her parents did.”
“But how?” Denali knows it wasn’t a normal healer they took Rosé to, but could you really erase a memory?
“After the healer fixed her, Rosé was … upset. She was worried about you, kept yelling and asking for you. Nothing could calm her down. Her parents asked the healer to erase her memory of the accident and convince her that your powers were all her imagination. That way, she was calm, and she couldn’t tell anyone about your powers.” The queen’s voice is as calm as always, like she’s discussing business plans and not a lie that was kept from her daughter for fifteen years.
Rage and power rise in Denali’s chest, bumping against the layers of ice that always tamp her feelings down. She can’t imagine how scared Rosé must have been, waking up in some strange healer’s place, how her first instinct—look for Denali—couldn’t help her. Of course she was upset, and yet the main concern wasn’t how to help her, but how to keep her quiet. “They had no right to do that to her!”
“They really did think it would help her, Denali. They didn’t want her suffering from the memory her whole life.”
For a second, Denali wonders if it’s worse to take someone’s memory away, or let them suffer from it. Rosé’s parents thought they were helping her. Had Denali’s parents considered offering her that same mercy? Or did they think suffering would turn her into the princess she needed to be?
“And the letters? You never sent them, did you?”
“No,” her mother says. “We worried you would be in danger if word of your powers got out. We all decided it was best to separate you two. Then you could control yourself without her to distract you, and Rosé could go on thinking she imagined your powers. No one would know or get hurt. We invited her today since you’re in control.”
“You lied to me! My whole life, you lied to me. You took my best friend away and just left me in my room!” Denali shakes with rage, the heat of her anger blocking out the dull coldness tingling in her hands. For the past fifteen years, she’s blamed herself. Blamed herself for missing with her ice, for hurting Rosé, for being the reason she had to leave. But now it’s different. She and Rosé didn’t just lose years of friendship and memories—it was stolen from them.
“Denali.”
The words are a warning, one Denali can’t listen to. Not when everything was taken from her, when she spent so long locked inside this castle, blame and anger and loneliness heaped on shoulders too young to bear it, while the people with the power to ease the burden looked the other way.
Power courses through her, and the first ice blast destroys the ballroom doors. The second freezes the walls and sends people running, screaming and shoving others out of the way. Denali hears her parents warning her to stop, but it’s so far beyond her control that her hands don’t feel like they belong to her. Her heart pounds so fast it hurts, the ache growing sharper with her gasps for breath. She can’t stop the ice from pouring out of her hands, creeping along walls and floors while people run—
“Hey, Denali, it’s all right.”
It’s Rosé, of course, fearless and calming as ever. Denali’s port in a storm, helping her even when others ran. Denali sees the shape of her, the pink dress trailing down her body, but everything else is blurred. She faintly hears people calling for her arrest, calling her a monster.
Monster.
It rings through her ears, sharp as a knife. She has a sudden view of the people huddled in the corners, terror on their faces, and she falters. This isn’t what she wanted.
“I–I’m not a monster, I—“ Denali tries to breathe, to stop shaking. It’s all too much–the mass of people, the ear-splitting shouts, the burning stares. Everything’s closing in, and the ice around her isn’t an attack anymore. It’s protection.
“Breathe, Denali,” Rosé soothes.
She tries, but the royal guard is approaching as the crowd shouts for them to take her away. One raises his sword, dangerously close to Rosé. If he swings at Denali, Rosé will be in the crossfire, and Denali doesn’t hesitate to send an ice blast to stop him. Only—
Only he pushes Rosé in front of him, and the blast hits her in the chest.
Denali is six years old again, watching helplessly as Rosé gasps. Ice explodes around her, driving back the crowd and giving Denali space to finally breathe. By the time her vision clears, another streak of Rosé’s hair is snowy white, and her knees are wobbling. “Rosie? Are you—“
“I knew your powers were real,” Rosé says weakly, and she faints into Denali’s arms.
—-
Denali doesn’t hesitate. She changes her clothes, packs a bag, and slings Rosé into the carriage with her.
She escapes the crowd calling her a monster, leaves her parents to smooth things over, and sets off with a rumpled map of the north, grateful to have Wintervale behind her. The world outside is cold and crisp, wind biting at the carriage, and Denali sucks in every bit of air she can get, savoring the freedom despite the worry of Rosé’s shivering body beside her. Everything is swirling like a blizzard inside her–the anger, the worry, the fear, the determination. It’s more than she’s felt since she was six, more than she’s had reason to feel since she was six, and each emotion strains against a chest that doesn’t know how to hold so much.
She doesn’t know what will happen now that her secret is out, now that half the kingdom is afraid of her, but she doesn’t care. She can’t care, because she has to get Rosé to the healer. She can’t allow herself to feel anything else until Rosé is healed, shoving away emotions she doesn’t have room for. Despite how fast the horses are going, the north is so vast it feels like they’re barely moving.
“Are you warm enough?” Denali asks, biting her lip in stress. She had wrapped Rosé in two blankets and slipped extra thick gloves over her own hands, for protection as much as for warmth. Each layer is a barrier between them, another thing preventing Denali’s touch from freezing Rosé, because Denali can’t trust herself.
“Yes.” Rosé looks at her, bright eyes sizing her up. “Don’t make that face, Denali. I know that face. This isn’t your fault.”
“But I hurt you!”
“It was an accident. Please don’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you at all. I mean it.”
Denali doesn’t have it in her to argue. It wasn’t that her parents explicitly blamed her for everything; they just didn’t stop her from blaming herself. Never granted her the gentle kindness that comes through in every word Rosé says. Rosé is not only stopping Denali from blaming herself, but giving her the grace and permission to forgive herself too. And maybe Denali can.
“Denali?”
“Yes?”
“This happened before. That’s what you said in the portrait room.” It’s not a question, and Denali wonders if her powers jogged something in Rosé’s memory.
“It did,” Denali says. The lie ends with her. “One time when we were kids, I was making ice mountains for you to climb. You jumped too far, though, and I tried–I tried to catch you, but I hit you instead. My parents and your parents took you to this healer–the one we’re going to now–and they stopped the ice from hurting you. But my mother said you were upset and your parents had the healer erase the accident from your memory.”
Rosé nods. There’s only a little recognition in her face, and Denali wonders what it’s like to not remember such a big event in your life, to just have it erased. To have to trust that what Denali is telling her is true. “I remember some parts,” Rosé says. “I remember the healer’s cabin, how you could see the mountains from her window. I wanted to show you, but you weren’t there and I started crying. I … I remember asking to see you, but everyone said no. I thought you might be in trouble so I told them it wasn’t your fault, that it was an accident, but no one would listen. The healer did some spell, and I fell asleep, and when I woke up, we were in Riverton.” Rosé shakes her head bitterly. “I’d have dreams about your powers, and they felt so real, but I thought I made it up—“
“It’s okay.” Denali wants to pat her knee, soothe her the way Rosé would if the positions were reversed, but she can’t. Not with the danger her hands carry.
Rosé just nods.
“I’m sorry,” Denali says. “I’m sorry about then and I’m sorry about now.”
“Well, I forgive you. Then and now.” Despite the slight pain clouding her eyes, despite the wind whipping around, Rosé flashes her brilliant smile. “Hey, it looks like we got our adventure after all.”
Denali smiles too.
—
They stop for the night when the snow hits. Huge snowflakes flutter down like pieces of clouds, stark against the pitch-black sky. Denali can’t see well between the snow and the dark, and even though she wants to push on, Rosé has been silent and half-asleep the past hour, the ice undoubtedly weakening her joyful, talkative self, and Denali knows she needs to rest.
She pulls the carriage into a valley of pine trees.
“Rosie, we’re stopping for the night,” she says softly.
Rosé nods faintly, and Denali looks at her with a pang of guilt. More white streaks through her hair like a mountain pass and her face is just as pale, each movement stiff and wracked with shivers. She reaches out to help Rosé into the back of the carriage, then stops abruptly, frozen with fear.
“You can touch me,” Rosé says.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Again, Denali thinks but doesn’t add.
“You won’t hurt me,” Rosé says. But she climbs out herself.
The back of the carriage is just big enough to sleep in, and Denali presses herself against the side, leaving as much room as possible between them.
“T–take one of my blankets,” Rosé says. She’s curled up as tight as she can to stay warm, and Denali curses herself for not grabbing more blankets in her rush.
“Don’t need it.” Denali’s barely noticed the cold. Her heart’s already frozen anyway, how much colder could she get?
“Tell me if you do,” Rosé says quietly.
Denali nods, but she knows she won’t, just like she won’t sleep tonight. She can’t trust herself with the release of sleep, can’t risk bumping into Rosé and hurting her.
Rosé blinks sluggishly, trying to ward off the sleep fogging her eyes.
“Rosie, get some sleep,” Denali says.
“I’m not leaving you alone. Not like last time.” There’s a firmness in her voice Denali wouldn’t have thought possible, and she doesn’t argue.
“I almost forgot,” Rosé continues. “I have a present for you.”
“You didn’t have to—“
“I missed all your birthdays, Denali.”
“I missed all yours, too.”
“Well, I guess I have a bunch of presents from you to look forward to,” Rosé teases cheerfully. “You know I love presents.”
Denali smirks. “You do.”
“Anyway, here’s yours.” Rosé removes one arm from her blankets, hissing when the cold hits, and extends a box to Denali.
Inside is a necklace with a tiny snowflake charm, and Denali immediately clasps it around her neck.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it, Rosie. Thank you.”
Rosé coughs. “Denali, I know you might not like your powers, but they’re–they’re beautiful. Like–”
“Like me?” Denali interrupts, cutting off the swell of her heart before it grows too big, breaks through the ice.
“I would’ve said like me.” Rosé laughs. “But like you too.”
Denali smiles, grateful it’s too dark for Rosé to see her blushing cheeks.
“Do you–do you remember that night it was raining?” Rosé asks with a yawn. “And we looked at the stars?”
“Of course I do.” Denali knows Rosé should sleep, but she’s doing this to spare Denali from being alone, and it’s the most kindness she’s been shown in over a decade. So Denali plays along, retracing the night rain lashed at the windows and kept her awake, how she went to Rosé’s room and found her awake too, and they sat by the window while Rosé told stories about the stars until they fell asleep tangled together on the window seat.
“I used to look at the stars in Riverton. They were never as pretty as they were from Wintervale. But I always hoped you were looking at them too.” Rosé smiles, and Denali thinks some of her heart melts.
“I was.” Even if they were apart, Denali knows they were at least seeing the same stars, like their souls were calling out to each other. Denali tells Rosé the stories Rosé once told her, soothing her with tales of heroes earning their places in the sky, of the beauty in each star, until Rosé finally gives into her exhaustion and falls asleep.
Denali pulls off her long coat and throws it over Rosé, sleep allowing Rosé to take a favor she would never accept if she was awake.
Rosé seems so much younger in her sleep; looking at her now, the world silent except for her gentle breathing, Denali feels like she’s coming apart at the seams, because right now, she’s not seeing Rosé; she’s seeing Rosie, the girl she cared for more than anything else. And just like that, everything she’s kept inside all day–all her life–is rising to the surface, and the ice isn’t enough to contain it anymore.
It was easier to control things when they were apart, when Denali was alone in her room with no one to talk to. She learned to be comfortable with solitude, with the cold. At first, she childishly believed the promise her parents kept stringing along, fantasizing about visiting Rosé one day and striking up a game of tag even if they were too old. But as she got older, she knew it was just a fantasy, and it made things easier. She could control her feelings when there was nothing to cause them, dry tinders without a spark. There was no Rosé to tell jokes and burst into song and make Denali smile and laugh. Denali only had as much joy as she could bring herself, and staring at the same walls every day didn’t bring much. There was nothing to make her lose control.
But now Rosé is back, when Denali never thought she would be, and so are the feelings Denali pushed down so deep she thought they were beyond recovering. She was barely prepared to see people in the castle today, and ending the night with Rosé was the last thing she expected. Her heart is wrung out like a sponge, unused to such feeling after years of faintly beating–the joy of seeing Rosé’s smile again, the familiarity of the freckles dusting her shoulders, the relief of knowing Rosé still understands her, is still her friend. The hope that after all this, Rosé can stay for good.
If Denali doesn’t lose her first.
She knows it was an accident, that she didn’t mean to do it. But it still happened, and Denali provided the weapon. The old ache rises in her, the pain attached to the memory of hurting someone as good and kind as Rosé, someone so close to her, practically part of her. She’s more than Denali’s best friend—she’s a tie to her past, a time before the sadness. Proof and hope that the happiness that painted their days can color the world again.
She touches the necklace at her throat. Your powers are beautiful, Rosé said. Maybe she’s right. Maybe just because her powers are cold and sharp at times doesn’t mean they always have to be. When they were kids, Denali’s powers brought them such joy. Maybe she can have that again. With Rosé. Because she’s going to make it, and they’ll be friends after this. Denali knows it.
Rosé sighs in her sleep, and it sounds like Nali, Denali’s heart tugging again as she pretends it’s the wind. A piece of hair falls over Rosé’s face, and as much as Denali wants to tuck it behind her ear, she resists. Once Rosé is healed and Denali is in control, not shaken with both the joy of getting Rosé back and the fear of losing her all over again, then Denali can touch her. She hides her hands behind her back and watches over Rosé until the morning sun sets her hair alight and shines through the cracks in Denali’s heart.
—
Rosé can barely move the next morning. Denali catches her tiny winces, likely from how sore and stiff she is after all the shivering and clenching of her muscles. Denali’s hands hover behind her, a silent offer of help that she’s afraid to give and that Rosé probably won’t ask for, not wanting Denali to worry about her. Rosé only manages a few bites of the apple Denali packed, offering the rest to Denali, and, after Denali refuses, to the horses, who gobble it up.
“We’ll be there soon, I promise,” Denali says.
Rosé nods, and Denali convinces herself the bluish tinge to Rosé’s lips is just a trick of the light, nudging the horses to go faster. They move through blinding snow and towering mountains, the whole world a page from the storybooks they used to read. She’ll be okay, Denali tells herself. Because if this is a story, it deserves a happy ending.
The horses dip into a valley, a small cottage tucked between the trees. Mountains loom in the background, and Denali knows this is the place. She feels at peace here somehow. Like the mountains will keep her safe, a cocoon around her.
“I kn–knew you you’d like it here,” Rosé says.
“I really do.”
“Shall we?” Rosé offers a shaky arm to Denali, and Denali pretends not to see how hurt Rosé is when she won’t take it. She knows how important touch is to Rosé, their childhood painted with Rosé grabbing her hand as they ran across the land, arms wrapping around her in a hug, all Rosé’s way of showing she was there. A language the two of them spoke that Denali no longer knows the words to.
The cabin door swings open after Denali knocks, and her heart soars at the fire crackling in the fireplace. Rosé collapses in front of it, soaking up the first warmth she’s had in a day, the warmth any human besides Denali could give her.
“You again.” A person emerges from the corner of the cottage, and for all the old healers in the stories, this woman is young, with pale skin and blonde hair.
“You remember her?” Denali asks.
“I do.” The blonde nods severely. “My name is Brooke, by the way.” She bustles about and wraps another blanket around Rosé, and Denali burns with jealousy at someone who can touch so easily, so mindlessly.
“Can you help her?” Denali asks desperately.
Brooke shakes her head.
“You didn’t even try!”
“I can sense what’s wrong with her, and I can’t fix it. I’m sorry.”
“But you fixed her before!”
Brooke sighs. “I was only fixing her head back then. But now the ice is too close to her heart, and that’s much harder to fix. The only thing that can save her is an act of true love.”
Denali shakes her head frantically. She can’t have come all this way just to be told the answer is unobtainable. “Isn’t there anything else that can fix her? Something I can actually find? I mean, I can’t just buy true love! What about a potion or something–”
“There’s nothing else. I’m sorry.” Brooke pauses. “I can tell you two things. The first is that you won’t have to look far to help her. The second is that you shouldn’t run from your feelings.”
Denali clenches her jaw. She came here to help Rosé, not have some woman she’s known for three minutes tell her what to do. “And if I don’t find it, she’ll–” Denali knows, because her mother had told her what would happen all those years ago. But knowing and accepting are two different things.
“She’ll freeze solid,” Brooke confirms, and Denali thinks maybe this won’t have a happy ending after all.
—
“W–what do we do now?” Rosé asks, hands on her knees. The walk to the carriage winded her, and each wheezing breath pierces Denali’s heart.
“I don’t know.” Denali doesn’t even know what to say. All this time she had a plan that couldn’t go wrong, a purpose to push her along and keep her focused. Now the plan is shot and her purpose has nothing to direct it. She can barely look away from how pale Rosé is, the blue of her lips unable to be explained away anymore, ice crystals clinging to her hair. “I guess … I guess we go back to the castle. See if someone there can help.” It sounds good, but it’s just an empty promise. Denali knows there won’t be any cure beyond what Brooke told her, and the lie is just as much for her benefit as Rosé’s.
Rosé nods, like she knows it’s a lie but doesn’t want to call Denali a liar. “Do you think we have time to do something first?”
Denali doesn’t, but Rosé smiles hopefully, and Denali can’t deny her anything. “What is it?”
“Do you want to build a snowman?”
—
Denali looks down at her gloves. This whole time, they’ve been her armor, but in reverse–not to protect her, but to protect Rosé. Rosé can’t really be in worse shape than she’s in, but what if Denali accidentally speeds up the freezing, takes away whatever Rosé has left?
“You don’t have to use your powers,” Rosé says, like she’s reading her mind. “We’ll do it by hand. Not all of us are magic, you know.” Rosé laughs, and Denali knows she’s using every ounce of strength she has to do this, to be cheerful and have fun with Denali, and she won’t let her down.
“Let’s do it,” Denali says.
They build up the snow like they’re kids again, and Denali wants to stay inside this moment forever, a living snow globe, reliving it again and again with every shake. The snow clinging to Rosé’s eyelashes catching the sun and bathing her whole face in golden light. The smiles and laughs that come so easily Denali doesn’t have to think about them. The snow soft and bright and beautiful around them, an old friend welcoming them home.
But the snowglobe shatters when Rosé is hit with a burst of cold so bad it makes her whimper and curl into herself, and Denali knows they don’t have any time to waste in getting to the carriage.
“Denali?” Rosé’s voice is almost enough to stop Denali’s heart. “Denali, I can’t feel my legs.”
Denali turns around. A layer of solid ice covers Rosé’s boots and creeps toward her knees.
“No!” No, no, no. Denali runs to her, and before she stops herself, Rosé is in her arms. Denali holds her tight, squeezing her waist and lowering her gently to the ground. Denali curses herself and her stupid powers, wishing so badly she could take the ice away, take the pain away. All she can do is create more ice, create more cold and pain. “No, no, Rosie, please.”
“Shhh,” Rosè whispers, one shaking hand resting on Denali’s arm. “It’s okay.”
Denali lets out a strangled laugh, because Rosé is the one freezing over and Denali should be comforting her, not the other way around, but Rosé just can’t bear to see anyone hurting.
Rosé strokes Denali’s arm with her thumb, and this, more than anything, makes Denali truly sob. Because all this time, Denali’s been afraid to touch Rosé, been afraid of herself, but Rosé has never been afraid of her, not once in her life, and the gentle touch is a reminder that she never will be. A reminder that Denali doesn’t have to be afraid of herself either.
“I’m sorry, Rosie, I’m so sorry. Pl–please don’t go, please.”
Rosé hisses in a shaky breath as the ice hits her thighs. “Nali …”
“I just got you back, I can’t lose you again.” Denali can barely get the words past the lump in her throat. Hot tears roll down to her jacket, the only bit of warmth she’ll probably have again. She can feel how cold Rosé is even through their layers, but she doesn’t let go. She can’t let go. She couldn’t give Rosé the touch she desperately wanted all this time, but she’s giving it to her now, and nothing can make her stop.
“Denali.” Rosé coughs sharply, looking up at Denali with glassy eyes. “Denali, I–I love you. I love you so much. Is it okay if I kiss you before–”
Denali leans down and presses their lips together. Rosé is shaking uncontrollably but Denali holds her steady, keeps her together. Her own heart is pounding and she can feel Rosé’s through her lips, a sign that she’s still alive, still has some warmth coursing through her. Her lips carry the chill of a blizzard but are still soft beneath Denali’s, soft and loving and caressing her own the gentle way Rosé herself would.
When the lips beneath hers harden, Denali knows Rosie is gone.
She pulls herself away, forcing herself to look down at the woman in her arms. Rosé is frozen solid, an ice sculpture so real, so beautiful, that no human would ever be able to recreate it. Denali won’t let go of her, because beneath the ice is someone who was kissing her, breathing, living, just seconds ago, and to let her go would be to abandon her, to prove that Rosé really is gone.
“I’m sorry, Rosie.” Denali’s tears trail down over them both. “I’m sorry. You were–you were the best friend I ever had, and you make me–you make me so happy. Rosie, I love you. I love you, and I’m sorry I told you too late.”
The words feel right after she says them, like they’ve been looming beneath her ice for years, waiting to be let out. Denali’s loved her for a while, she realizes. Some part of her had always known, the part that would forever treasure Rosé and call out to her. Denali just had to let herself feel it. Every ounce of those feelings swell in her now, the love and devotion and affection she denied herself for so long. All she can do is hold Rosé and cry, wishing she had told her sooner, so that Rosé would have known she was loved before she was gone.
It takes Denali a while to notice that her cheeks are dry. Her mind struggles to process it, because she’s still crying, but she can’t feel the dampness on her cheeks.
She takes a breath, and she realizes Rosé is wiping her tears away.
“Please don’t cry,” Rosé whispers. “Look.” She carefully tips Denali’s head down to look at her, and instead of the frozen woman she expects to see, the ice is melting into the snow underneath.
Rosé is melting.
Her hair has returned to its brilliant soft red, even the old streak gone, like the wounds from their past have fully healed. The color is coming back to her cheeks, a smile coming with it.
“How are you–” She lowers a hand to Rosé’s face to test that she’s really here, but stops halfway. Rosé grabs her hand and rests it there herself, and Denali gives in, cupping Rosé’s cheek and feeling her warmth.
“I told you you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I love you,” Denali says.
“I love you too.”
An act of true love, Denali realizes. Just as her ice had frozen Rosé, it was her love that thawed her.
Denali leans down to kiss her again, and even though she knows they have to return home, that she has to fix the mess she left behind, she has Rosé in her arms, now and forever, and she’s never going to let go.
#rpdr fanfiction#denali foxx#rosé#rosnali#lesbian au#frozen au#fluff#hurt/comfort#mild angst#s13#athena2#tw mild injury#concrit welcome#submission
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HomestuckxTwisted wonderland: Trolls in Twisted Wonderland AU headcanons part 2: Cronus Ampora, Kurloz Makara, Horuss Zahhak and Aranea Serket
Headcanons part 1 Part 3
AU concept
Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing!
You can use this AU if you want, just credite and tag me in return please I would love to read the result ! 😉
Here we go for the part 2 of the headcanons! This part will focus on our “highblood alpha trolls”’s character profiles and on some headcanons about them as well! ^^
-------------------------------
Characters profiles:
Name: Cronus Ampora
Gender: Male
Age: 17 in human age
Birthday: 21 january
Starsign: Aquarius
Height: 191 cm
Eye color: Violet
Hair color: Black
Homeland: -Alternia(birthplace)
-Valley of Thorns(current)
Dorm: Octavinelle
School year: Second
Occupation: Night Raven College student
Club: Light music club
Best subject: Magic history
Dominant hand: Left
Favorite food: Fried calamari with fries
Least favorite food: Noodles
Dislike: Himself
Hobby: Music
Talents: Singing
“You know what? I think I can die happy now, 'cause I’ve just seen a piece of heaven!“
---------------------------------
Name: Kurloz Makara
Gender: Male
Age: 17 in human age
Birthday: 22 december
Starsign: Capricorn
Height: 205 cm
Eye color: Purple
Hair color: Black
Homeland: -Alternia(birth place)
-Jubilee Port’s bayou(current)
Dorm: Savanaclaw
School year: Second
Occupation: Night Raven College student
Club: Magical shift
Best subject: Alchemy
Dominant hand: Left
Favorite food: Spicy food
Least favorite food: Catfish
Dislike: Too noisy people
Hobby: Making voodoo dolls
Talents: Cooking
“...“
---------------------------------
Name: Horuss Zahhak
Gender: Male
Age: 17 in human age
Birthday: 23 november
Starsign: Sagittarius
Height: 186 cm
Eye color: Indigo
Hair color: Black
Homeland: -Alternia(birth place)
-Land of Pyroxene(current)
Dorm: Ignihyde
School year: Second
Occupation: Night Raven College student
Club: Horse ridding
Best subject: Defensive and strategic magic
Dominant hand: Right
Favorite food: Ice cream
Least favorite food: Horse meat
Dislike: Being saw as an idiot
Hobby: Science and horses
Talents: Magic technology
“Absolutely fascinating! You my friend are a truly interesting individual!“
------------------------------------
Name: Aranea Serket
Gender: Female
Age: 17 in human age
Birthday: 23 october
Starsign: Scorpio
Height: 190 cm
Eye color: Cerulean
Hair color: Black
Homeland: - Alternia(birthplace)
- The Sea Heart crew(current)
Dorm: Unknow
School year: Second
Occupation: Unknow all-girls magical school student
Club: Literature
Best subject: History
Dominant hand: Right
Favorite food: Quiche
Least favorite food: Fugu
Dislike: To be see just as “Captain Serket’s daughter”
Hobby: Reading
Talents: Writting
“Magic is an complex concept, it’s the everything and the nothing, life and death, light and darkness and is unpredicta8le! That your arrival in this world was fated or a pure coincidence... No on can tell!“
--------------------------------------
-Cronus was met by Yuu and their friends during the Octavinelle arc, at first he found Ace's, Deuce's, Grim's and the others Azul's victims situation funny 'cause he think those who are stupid enough to make deals with Azul just got what they deserve, but when Azul got things too far Cronus became an ally with Yuu to set the record straight with his dorm leader and help the group and the leech twins to fight Azul when he overbloted.
-Kurloz met Yuu and their friends during the Savanaclaw arc, was at first a bit hostile toward then 'cause he didn't like they suspected his dorm to try to sabotage the others dorm to win the school's magical shift tournament, but when it was revealed that Leona was indeed trying to cheat, Kurloz was not happy and helped Yuu and the others to fight overblot Leona.
-Horuss met Yuu and their friends during the Happy Bean day, he helped to design and create the beans guns and participate in the event on team monster.
-Aranea met Yuu and the others during the Halloween event, she was visiting NRC for halloween and to see Cronus, Horuss and Kurloz.
-Despite being a very good student Cronus is also quite a trouble maker who like to mess and flirt with the others students.
-Kurloz and Leona are childhood friends due to Leona's parents often asking for Jael's and Mama Makara's services in magic and potion in the past, Leona see Jael as one of his, even his most, trusted friend but due to his pride he don't like to show it.
-Horuss doesn't fall in the "Ignihyde student" archetype, he is in fact the most social and cheerfull student from the dorm.(Ortho don't count since he isn't a official student)
-Unlike her mother who was a troublemaker when she was a student at her school, Araena is more a model student who was more focus on her studies much to her teachers's relief.
-Cronus is a romantic and love flirting with anyone who's catch is interest boys and girls alike, he flirt often with the others students, he also like play flirting with Cater who is his best buddy from the light music club.
-With his strengh and his powerfull magic, people are surprised Kurloz isn't the dorm leader of Savanaclaw, that because while he can became the leader if he wanted, Kurloz is not interested by the posotion but also prefer letting it to Leona 'cause he think he deserve the position and that it would help him with his self esteem issues.
-Horuss absolutly love horses and by so his favorite period of the day is when he go to the horse ridding club, he is also an excelent horse rider.
-Araena is pasionated by litterature and history, she spend most of her time in the school's library when not in class and her favorite sudject is history.
-Cronus’s number one hobby is music, he love play with his guitar and sing and he is even creating his own music and songs.
-Kurloz is selective mute, he doesn’t feel confortable to speak he only does it when he must like when he is in class and prefer communicate with signs language, plus in situations in which someone really pissed him off he tend to speak in anger which is a sign for said person that he REALLY fucked up this time.
-Horuss is a genius in magic science, due to his level in the subject he is the one who’s called to help when there a science/magic science problem in the school.
-althrough she’s most of the time a nice and pleasant person, push Aranea’s buttons too and you will see she’s indeed her mother’s daughter.
-Cronus’s shenanigans are in reality a way for him to hide he hate himself, due to being from an unknow specie in TW, himself knowing nothingabout what he is and by so being very diferent give to Cronus a deep disgust of himself and give him a unhealty obsession to become more “fae like” to the point of having dangerous temptations like mutilating his ears fins to shape them like fae ears. This self hate will get bad to the point Cronus will end up overbloting.(Headcanons part about it in the future! ;) )
-Kurloz love spicy food, the more spicy the dish is, the more he love it.
-Horuss is super strong like his father.
-Unlike what many people believe Araena don’t plan on succeding to her mother as the next captain of the Sea Heart, in fact her dream is to become a writer and to ope her own library.
-Cronus’s relationship with his father is not bad, Oberon is very strict with him and is exasperated he don’t take his studies more seriously but that it.
-Kurloz had a very good relationship with his father, Jael is a good father who deeply love his two sons.
-Horuss and his dad have a good relationship, despite not showing his emotions very much, Pholos love and care about his sons.
-Aranea’s relationship with her mother is... complicated! She lover her mother and Topaz lover her daughter but being mostly see as “captain Topaz’s daughter” and being expected to become a pirate just like her mother make Aranea very uncomfortable, which bring some complications in her relationship with her mother.
TAG LIST :( a reblog will get you a place in the tag list! ^^)
@blankrslate07
#homestuck#twisted wonderland#homestuck au#trolls in twisted wonderland au#alpha trolls#cronus ampora#kurloz makara#horuss zahhak#aranea serket#headcanon#headcanons#au idea
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Until Full Moon
-1 -2 -3
Werewolf!(f)reader x Jaskier
note: I am reposting my own writting because I am planing to continue the Story. And I want my fic on my new Blog. And of coures a big Thank you to @the-winter-witcher for cheking my writting and @calamitycrowley, my beta-reader
description: Since a few month you are a werewolf, and you mostly hide in the woods because you know how dangerous you can become when it’s time. One day you meet Jaskier and Geralt. Unfortunately the witcher recently got the job to get rid of a werewolf. And that’s when it all begins
Chapter -1-
It was a sunny day, the birds were chirping, the wind was mild and fresh and the flowers were blooming in all of the colors imaginable. But Geralt wasn't in a good mood. He and Jaskier were wandering through a little village with Roach behind them. It wasn't even a village it were just a bunch of farmers living near each other.
Geralt knew that he will find no job here, and even if the farmers here had a problem with a monster they wouldn't hire a witcher, they don't trust him. How did he know? It's a mild summer day and there are no kids playing in the streets, no men working on the fields and no women anywhere to be seen. They all hide. They hide from the Butcher of Blaviken.
Jaskier besides was also not in his best mood, he was stuck in writing a new song that he just couldn't finish properly. But he still looks at all the beauty in the world, he played his lute not for Geralt this time he played it for all the birds that were singing. But he didn't sing, because everytime he starts he remembers the song he couldn't finish. So this time he leaves the singing to the birds in the trees.
They finally found an inn in the last village they crossed, with water for the the horse and cold ale for the men.
Geralt wasn't in a talking mood, if he ever was. And Jaskier wasn't in the mood to play for people, today the birds were a much better audience. So the two just sat there drinking their ales in silence.
Jaskier noticed three rough looking men coming in. They looked miserable.
"this damn wolf"
"shut up! You don't even have sheeps"
"that doesn't matter. I don't want that fucking wolf near me"
"you only care about yourself, what about my sheep and his cows" he pointed to the third man that didn't said anything yet.
Jaskier looked at Geralt, but the Witcher wasn't interested. For him it sounds like a normal wolf and some dumb villagers that tried to hunt a wolf at the day.
"Geralt" the bard whispers "they are talking about one wolf, but the only wolves that hunt alone are werewolves"
Fuck he is right.
"Hmm"
Jaskier turned to the men and asked them if they knew that they were trying to hunt a werewolf at the daytime. The men looked angry at the bard but after a few moments they saw Geralt in the corner.
"What do you say Witcher?"
Finally the silent one of them said something.
"The bard is right. What you are talking about is definitely a werewolf."
"Don't make these stupid faces. I told you it's a werewolf but you never listen to me."
The first two men left without any words.
"So Witcher how many coin for a werewolf?"
…
"Geralt?"
"Hmm?"
"Will we actually find tracks right now? I mean the last full moon was one day ago. So that werewolf is human till next month. Am I right?"
"That's all true. But maybe we will find his hiding place"
"His?"
"Yes, only man become werewolves"
"Oh I didn't know that. That is really interesting. Do you know why? Or is just that there are male and female monsters?..."
"shh.."
"Oh did you hear something? I am sorry. I almost forgot we on a hunt right…"
"Jaskier!"
"Oh yeah. I will be silent now"
The witcher actually heard something, but now it's gone. But he is just tired of the day. So the dissimilar couple started to set up their camp for the night.
Jaskier knew what he has to do. It's always the same after they set up the tent and decide what to eat, he is the one searching for firewood. While Geralt is either hunting for a rabbit or preparing the food they have left.
So he makes his way into the woods, not too deep, after the one time he didn't find a way out at first and it was in the middle of the night he he finally returned, he had learned his lesson.
He is gathering as much wood as he can find. But then all the wood he collected so thoroughly, falls all to the ground. Jaskier saw something he is familiar with, but didn't belong here at all.
There you lied curled up unconscious, Naked. Half underneath a bush.
Jaskier looked all around but didn't find any clue why you were here, the only thing he noticed was the little pile of clothes that was right next to you. He felt a bit uncomfortable, but mostly he was confused and concerned what happened to that young woman lying unconscious in the forest.
He got closer to you and was relieved when he saw you chest rising and sinking in a steady rhythm. He leaned down to carefully touch your shoulder.
"Hey… Are you awake?"
He almost whispers.
It will get dark soon and he just can't leave you there, it was too dangerous.
Now he takes both of your shoulders and shakes you a bit.
"You need to wake up. I don't know what happened to you,but I can't just leave a girl like this in the forest at night."
His voice got louder.
An unfamiliar voice is ringing in your ear, a man's voice with a tone of urge in it. You shake your head a little and hum a few inaudible words before you can open your eyes.
You saw a man with dark hair and eyes blue as the sky in spring, who looks worried at you but most importantly he is holding you.
You pushed him back because you knew what happened last night, you knew that you were totally naked and who knew if he isn't paid to find you and kill you.
"Oh gods you are finally awake. I know that sounds like it's made up but I just was collecting some firewood and then I found you there. I thought you were dead. Can I help you. I am not going to lie, you look a bit lost and I…"
"Turn around."
You cut him right there
"What? Oh yeah of course. Do need any help with that?"
You slide into you really simply dress, make a few knots at the right spots and now you are fully dressed again.
"Okay what did you just said, sorry I wasn't listening"
"I said, I was collecting some firewood and I found plenty of it, but I also found you. I have no clue how you got here but I just couldn't left you there so I tried to wake you up to get you out of here. It get gets darker every minute and this is no good place to be naked and alone and unconscious."
"I am fine.."
You pat that strangers shoulder
"but thank you for your help, I just need my bag and my basket with food and you don't have to see me ever again."
You look around searching for your very few possessions. But they were nowhere to be found. You look back to the stranger. He looks probably as confused as you.
"Have you seen it?"
"What your bag and a basket? No i didn't saw such things. When I found you there was only you and your dress."
You start to lower yourself to search for your lost properties. But as the man said it get darker and you could barely see anything. Resigned you sat underneath a tree, your hands covering your face to hide the tears in your eyes from the Stranger, who just don't want to leave. That was everything you have, everything you could take with you that night you have left. What the hell are you supposed to do to now.
"Hey.." His voice is really soft.
"what do you think about that we leave now and go eat something and tomorrow when the sun is shining again I will help you to find your bag and your basket."
He offers you a hand to stand up.
"Hmm? What do you say?"
"That is probably a good idea"
He still holds your hand and made a little bow before you.
You couldn't resist a smile.
"So how is the lady called?"
"My name is Y/N just Y/N… And you are?"
"My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz viscount de Lettenhove. But you can call me Jaskier."
He lifts up all the wood that fell down earlier and refused to let you carry any of it. As you walked out of the wood onto the meadow.
"So Y/N you were wandering around the forest with a basket full of food, are you red riding hood or something?"
He laughed
"Not exactly"
You laughed a bit too. But deep down you knew that you were actually the big bad wolf.
#the-not-so-silent-back-up#jaskier x reader#jaskier#geralt of rivia#the witcher fic#The witcher Netflix#reader fic#jaskier the bard#y/n#alina writes
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A Shifting of the Sands: I
The sun might have set over the barren, rocky desert of Thanalan, but the heat had yet to fully abate. Perhaps a bell, maybe two, had passed since the radiant disc that burned so bright, and hot, over the arid landscape had set, and blessed darkness had descended to give its slowly-cooling relief to the denizens of the scorched desert. As the sun had sank beneath the glittering domes and spires of Ul’dah, the sky had come to life with a myriad of blazing, brilliant colors - painting both the sky, and the imagination, in rich hues of orange and red, fading up to purples and deep blues, eventually merging all together into the blackness of the abyss at the crown of the world. As the moments ticked past the colors played out their panoramic show for all the world to see, living art dancing gleefully in the skies above them; at dusk slowly ilmed its way toward full night a sprinkling of stars began to twinkle into existence in the darkness that replaced the vivid sunset; only the brightest appeared at first, their brilliant radiance defiant against the dying of the day’s light. But as the world descended further into darkness, their brethren began to shine fully into view until the sky was once again alight with color. This time, instead of broad swaths across the entirety of the horizon it was a dazzling show of faintly shimmering lights across the heavens, like little camp fires on some far and distant shore.
Y'naalie Vhenna had sat on a moss covered rock, the gentle mist from the slow running stream-turned-waterfall wafting over her sweat-coated, exhaustion-laced limbs. Beneath that slowly fading sky, magenta eyes watching the colors bleed from the day as the twinkling lights of the stars slowly showed their radiant faces. The day had been long for her - most days, truth be told, were - and these quiet moments in which the world transitioned slowly from the glaring, bright heat of desert day to the calm, strangely serene night were some of the scant few in which she could find a measure of peace. From well before the rising of the sun at dawn Naalie was hard at work within the halls of the gladiator's guild, honing her craft to be the fiercest underdog that stepped foot onto the blood sands. Being as short as she was, as slender as she was, Naalie was no stranger to not being taken seriously in the world of combat; larger foes oft looked down their noses at the diminutive gladiatrix, scoffing away the woman against whom they had been pitted due to her stature. These disdainful, dismissive looks from gladiators and fans alike only drove her to train harder, fight harder... so that she could show them just how ferocious she can be.
And that is why Naalie rose several bells before the dawn began to lighten the horizon, shuffling her way to the hall so that she could be the first in to practice her maneuvers... and why she was oft the last one to leave, leaden limbs carrying her out into Ul'dah by instinct alone. Not wishing to return to the cramped, crowded apartment that she shared with the remnants of her tribe, Naalie often found herself wandering beyond the city walls and into the desert proper; if she got here at just the right time of night, like tonight, it was a sight to behold and worked some sort of magical wonder at easing some of the tension that perpetually plagued her body.
As the world fully gave way to night, the little nocturnal creatures began to stir themselves to life; night time insects began to chirp their songs to one another, creating an almost organic melody that carried across the barren wastes while keen-eyed birds made their shrill calls and gentle coos in search of dinner and companionship. And all the while, the splashing of the small waterfall behind her added a soothing soundtrack that Naalie could sit and enjoy for bells on end.
A gentle breeze picked up the mist from the falling water, carrying it across the rock upon which Naalie sat and out toward the arid landscape beyond; what little moisture in it wouldn't last long, this verdant oasis seeming to cling jealously to the precious water and plant life it had carved out for itself. A backward glance from Naalie was all that it took for the idea of slipping into the water to form in her mind; despite the retreat of the sun, it was still quite hot in the desert... and coupled with the weary exhaustion, the thin film of dried sweat, and the need to do anything relaxing, well... it was too much for the blonde Miqo'te to resist.
Never shy about nudity, even when around others, Naalie surmised that she was alone enough to justify shedding her training clothes without undue attention; making short work of the wardrobe, and glad to be out of the clothes that clung limply to her skin, she was soon slipping into the knee-deep water with a newfound energy. Slender legs splashed through the dirty, sand-laced water without a care, seeming to take a certain glee in making noise and kicking up the water; by the time she'd shuffled underneath the crisp, falling water there resided a small, content smile on her thin lips. With her head back, Naalie allowed the cool water to soak her hair and flow over her face; rivers of the sweet, refreshing liquid ran down her body to join once again at the pool in which she stood. She was the proverbial stone in their path, the obstacle around which they must flow to continue their journey eternal. But what a delightful stone to be, if for that moment alone.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
Three staccato bursts of sound, so innocuous and innocent, snapped Naalie out of the quiet reverie of her moment of oneness with nature. The Miqo'te turned, hand reaching quickly for the blade that always rested at her hip. The blade that was, specifically, not at her hip at she stood beneath the cold, flowing water. Fingers clenching futilely at empty air, the gladiatrix grimaced as she realized her potentially dangerous predicament.
Standing just shy of the lapping edge of the sandy pool were three figures, two tall and imposing uniformed men flanking a short, swarthy, gaudily dressed Lalafell man. His hands held still before him, motionless after the dramatic announcement of the trio's arrival; gloves of black silk padded the percussion of his palms, muffling the sound somewhat against the song of the desert night. The gloves, like the rest of the flowing and colorful silks he wore and seemingly limitless number of gemstone encrusted jewelry bedazzling his figure, spoke of an ostentatious amount of wealth. The smirk on his lips, the gleam in his eye, all suggested this was a man who seldom, if ever, didn't get what he wanted. Money. Power. Influence. Danger. All writ large on the smug expression of that little Dunesfolk.
"Who-" Naalie began, only to be cut off by the little man. His arms retracted, folding lackadaisically over his partially bared chest; Naalie could see the glistening of oiled and perfumed chest hairs peaking out from the edges of his robe, catching the reflection of the wan moonlight. For some reason, that was what caught her eye beyond all else.
"Who I am isn't necessarily what you should be concerned about," His voice, gods, his voice. Grating and nasal, it was every bit unpleasant as one would assume from looking at him. "It's who you are that is why we're here." He went on, leaving no room for interruption, "The Crimson Jaguar, Ul'dah's scappiest little gladiator! Not undefeated, but quite impressive in the arena. A darling favorite of the Jewel and her people, not to mention the bookies who rake in the gil hand over fist with every hard-fought victory you claw for yourself. I'm a fan, I'm quite impressed. Smitten, even. To think, I'm in the presence of the Crimson Jaguar. Boys, can you believe it?"
The little Lalafell asked, glancing up to the two men on either side of him; a dull chorus of laughter echoed following his prompting, though from the sound of it neither men truly understood what they were laughing at.
"Can't believe it, boss."
"Nope, I don't believe it."
With the snap of his fingers the two goons fell into immediate, practiced silence so that the only sounds were, once again, the singing of the crickets and the splashing of falling water. There was something uncomfortable in that man's stare, something intense and foreboding. The slowly spreading, more-than-slightly sinister smile did nothing to allay that notion.
"Now, if I remember correctly..." the nameless man went on, "... you have an important fight coming up, don't you? Against, oh... what was his name...? Boys, do you remember?"
"Sure don't, boss."
"Nope, boss, can't remember."
Snap.
"Bjornulf. Bjornulf the Hellsbeast."
"Oh, boss, it was Bjornulf."
"Bjornulf, boss, I think is the guy's name."
The chorus chimed in.
"Bjornulf the Hellsbeast," the man echoed once again, clucking his tongue as if, for some reason, this provoked some sort of thought in the devious little cogs of his mind. "You know, my sweet Crimson Jaguar, the odds they have in the betting houses? You to defeat that monster of a Hrothgar by over 50:1! Ul'dah's rising star." He paused his speech, only to begin a slow, idle pace around the water's edge without ever coming so close as to sully the shoes he wore.
"A lot of people stand to make a lot of gil when you win that fight. They'd be crazy to bet against somebody who has shown as much skill and determination and drive as you have. I mean, could you even imagine the payout if somebody were to go all in on Bjornulf and he won?" The Lalafell asked; at first, the question seemed innocuous enough, but the tone with which it was delivered... the narrowing of the eyes, the arching of the brow, the curling of the lips.
It wasn't a question, it was a suggestion.
An offer?
A threat.
As the realization dawned on Naalie, the Lalafell's smile grew all the broader... and feigned innocence. Little shoulders lifted in a shrug, prompting the jingle-jangle of excessive jewelry to call out in the still night.
"I'm not going to thro-" Naalie began, before once again being cut off.
"Nobody is asking you to throw anything," The Lalafell cut in once again, his tone harsh. "But, if it happened... the payout." His demeanor shifted, his smile returned, and his shoulders shrugged their nonchalant little shrug. "And I'm certain your patrons would reward you for your valiant effort, win or lose. There's no shame in it, after all... right, boys?"
"No shame, right boys?" Left goon echoed.
"Left boys, no shame." Right goon said.
The Lalafell paused at that, merely shaking his head a few seconds later. "You don't know who I am, Crimson Jaguar, but I know who you are. And I know who pulls your strings. Work with me and we can go far. Don't, and..." his golden eyes shifted to the side, brow arching with an unspoken implication. "... well, you're a smart girl."
An awkward moment of silence followed before the man turned, giving a wave by the wiggling of his fingers, and walked away into the desert with his cohorts.
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Until Full Moon
werewolf!(f)reader x Jaskier
Chapter -2-
first of all thanks you @the-winter-witcher💝 for cheking my writting and thanks to my beta reader @disasterjaskier💖
also tagging @determinedpines🌻 and @merthurlocked💛 ... because
description: Since a few month you are a werewolf, and you mostly hide in the woods because you know how dangerous you can become when it’s time. One day you meet Jaskier and Geralt. Unfortunately the witcher recently got the job to get rid of a werewolf. And that’s when it all begins
Chapter 01
It was a sunny day, the birds were chirping, the wind was mild and fresh and the flowers were blooming in all of the colors imaginable. But Geralt wasn't in a good mood. He and Jaskier were wandering through a little village with Roach behind them. It wasn't even a village it were just a bunch of farmers living near each other.
Geralt knew that he will find no job here, and even if the farmers here had a problem with a monster they wouldn't hire a witcher, they don't trust him. How did he know? It's a mild summer day and there are no kids playing in the streets, no men working on the fields and no women anywhere to be seen. They all hide. They hide from the Butcher of Blaviken.
Jaskier besides was also not in his best mood, he was stuck in writing a new song that he just couldn't finish properly. But he still looks at all the beauty in the world, he played his lute not for Geralt this time he played it for all the birds that were singing. But he didn't sing, because everytime he starts he remembers the song he couldn't finish. So this time he leaves the singing to the birds in the trees.
They finally found an inn in the last village they crossed, with water for the the horse and cold ale for the men. Geralt wasn't in a talking mood, if he ever was. And Jaskier wasn't in the mood to play for people, today the birds were a much better audience. So the two just sat there drinking their ales in silence.
Jaskier noticed three rough looking men coming in. They looked miserable.
"this damn wolf"
"shut up! You don't even have sheeps"
"that doesn't matter. I don't want that fucking wolf near me"
"you only care about yourself, what about my sheep and his cows"
he pointed to the third man that didn't said anything yet.
Jaskier looked at Geralt, but the Witcher wasn't interested. For him it sounds like a normal wolf and some dumb villagers that tried to hunt a wolf at the day. "Geralt" the bard whispers "they are talking about one wolf, but the only wolves that hunt alone are werewolves"
Fuck he is right.
"Hmm" Jaskier turned to the men and asked them if they knew that they were trying to hunt a werewolf at the daytime. The men looked angry at the bard but after a few moments they saw Geralt in the corner.
"What do you say Witcher?"
Finally the silent one of them said something.
"The bard is right. What you are talking about is definitely a werewolf."
"Don't make these stupid faces. I told you it's a werewolf but you never listen to me."
The first two men left without any words.
"So Witcher how many coin for a werewolf?"
…
"Geralt?"
"Hmm?"
"Will we actually find tracks right now? I mean the last full moon was one day ago. So that werewolf is human till next month. Am I right?"
"That's all true. But maybe we will find his hiding place"
"His?"
"Yes, only man become werewolves"
"Oh I didn't know that. That is really interesting. Do you know why? Or is just that there are male and female monsters?..."
"shh.."
"Oh did you hear something? I am sorry. I almost forgot we on a hunt right…"
"Jaskier!"
"Oh yeah. I will be silent now"
The witcher actually heard something, but now it's gone. But he is just tired of the day. So the dissimilar couple started to set up their camp for the night.
Jaskier knew what he has to do. It's always the same after they set up the tent and decide what to eat, he is the one searching for firewood. While Geralt is either hunting for a rabbit or preparing the food they have left. So he makes his way into the woods, not too deep, after the one time he didn't find a way out at first and it was in the middle of the night he he finally returned, he had learned his lesson.
He is gathering as much wood as he can find. But then all the wood he collected so thoroughly, falls all to the ground. Jaskier saw something he is familiar with, but didn't belong here at all.
There you lied curled up unconscious, Naked. Half underneath a bush. Jaskier looked all around but didn't find any clue why you were here, the only thing he noticed was the little pile of clothes that was right next to you. He felt a bit uncomfortable, but mostly he was confused and concerned what happened to that young woman lying unconscious in the forest.
He got closer to you and was relieved when he saw you chest rising and sinking in a steady rhythm. He leaned down to carefully touch your shoulder.
"Hey… Are you awake?" He almost whispers.
It will get dark soon and he just can't leave you there, it was too dangerous. Now he takes both of your shoulders and shakes you a bit.
"You need to wake up. I don't know what happened to you,but I can't just leave a girl like this in the forest at night." His voice got louder.
An unfamiliar voice is ringing in your ear, a man's voice with a tone of urge in it. You shake your head a little and hum a few inaudible words before you can open your eyes. You saw a man with dark hair and eyes blue as the sky in spring, who looks worried at you but most importantly he is holding you.
You pushed him back because you knew what happened last night, you knew that you were totally naked and who knew if he isn't paid to find you and kill you.
"Oh gods you are finally awake. I know that sounds like it's made up but I just was collecting some firewood and then I found you there. I thought you were dead. Can I help you. I am not going to lie, you look a bit lost and I…"
"Turn around." You cut him right there
"What? Oh yeah of course. Do need any help with that?"
You slide into you really simply dress, make a few knots at the right spots and now you are fully dressed again.
"Okay what did you just said, sorry I wasn't listening"
"I said, I was collecting some firewood and I found plenty of it, but I also found you. I have no clue how you got here but I just couldn't left you there so I tried to wake you up to get you out of here. It get gets darker every minute and this is no good place to be naked and alone and unconscious."
"I am fine.."You pat that strangers shoulder "but thank you for your help, I just need my bag and my basket with food and you don't have to see me ever again."
You look around searching for your very few possessions. But they were nowhere to be found. You look back to the stranger. He looks probably as confused as you.
"Have you seen it?"
"What your bag and a basket? No i didn't saw such things. When I found you there was only you and your dress."
You start to lower yourself to search for your lost properties. But as the man said it get darker and you could barely see anything. Resigned you sat underneath a tree, your hands covering your face to hide the tears in your eyes from the Stranger, who just don't want to leave. That was everything you have, everything you could take with you that night you have left. What the hell are you supposed to do to now.
"Hey.." His voice is really soft. "what do you think about that we leave now and go eat something and tomorrow when the sun is shining again I will help you to find your bag and your basket."
He offers you a hand to stand up. "Hmm? What do you say?"
"That is probably a good idea"
He still holds your hand and made a little bow before you. You couldn't resist a smile.
"So how is the lady called?"
"My name is Y/N just Y/N… And you are?"
"My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz viscount de Lettenhove. But you can call me Jaskier."
He lifts up all the wood that fell down earlier and refused to let you carry any of it. As you walked out of the wood onto the meadow.
"So Y/N you were wandering around the forest with a basket full of food, are you red riding hood or something?" He laughed
"Not exactly" You laughed a bit too. But deep down you knew that you were actually the big bad wolf.
#Not-so-silent-back-up#jaskier x reader#jaskier#geralt of rivia#the witcher fic#The witcher Netflix#reader fic#werewolf#jaskier the bard#Y/N
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dare
for @soulxmakaweek 2020, day 1!
also available on ao3 and ff.net
The desert night is cold, but a strange, heady warmth suffuses her veins and keeps it at bay. Her head swims pleasantly – she’s never had alcohol before, and she didn’t think she ever would, but she’s Maka Albarn and she doesn’t back down from a dare. The taste of artificial strawberries lingers on her tongue, acrid and too-sweet. She doesn’t get how anyone could actually like this stuff.
“Tsubaki,” says Liz, pulling Maka out of her reverie. “Truth or dare?”
The other girl bites her lip. “Dare,” she replies, in her soft melodious voice. Maka wishes distantly she had a voice like that.
“You always pick that one,” Liz scoffs. “All right, why don’t you…take two shots and then do twenty pull-ups.”
“Laaaame,” says Black Star from his position on the floor, and then burps loudly.
“Excuse you,” says Maka, at the same time that Patty bursts into giggles and then matches him with a burp of her own.
“Patricia,” says Kid reprovingly.
“Scuuuuze me,” she chirps, and then bumps Black Star’s upside-down fist.
“Could I maybe, um…not take the shots?” Tsubaki asks, a note of hope in her voice.
“A dare’s a dare.” Liz shrugs, not looking up from her examination of her cuticles.
“It would ruin the sanctity of the game,” Kid adds helpfully.
Tsubaki sighs.
“Hey, that’s not a shot,” says Black Star. “C’mon, Tsu, do it right.”
Tsubaki takes two deliberate mouthfuls. Afterwards she coughs and grimaces before striding towards a low-hanging sign and pulling herself up over and over, braids swinging.
“Can you do that many pullups?” Maka asks, turning to look at her weapon partner. He sits slouched on the lip of the wall beside her, staring out over the desert.
He turns at the sound of her voice. “Huh?”
She gestures with her chin towards Tsu, whose breathing has started to become a little labored. “That many pullups. Can you do them?”
Soul sits up a little straighter. “Sure. Yeah.”
“All right,” says Tsubaki. Her forehead gleams with sweat. “Twenty.” She strides back towards the group and folds, a little shakily, into a sitting position on Maka’s other side.
“That drink is disgusting,” she murmurs fervently. Maka reaches out and pats her sympathetically on one trembling shoulder.
“Your turn, sis,” says Liz, and elbows Patty gently. “Who d’you wanna pick?”
Patty taps a finger on her chin in thought, her wide blue eyes roaming around the group. They settle on Soul, and a positively evil grin distorts her features. Maka barely suppresses a shudder.
“Soul!” Patty sings out. “Truth or dare?”
Soul squints suspiciously. “…Dare,” he says, after a few moments’ hesitation.
Patty claps her hands in delight. Wrong answer. Soul shifts uncomfortably.
“I dare youuu,” Patty says, “to kiss Maka.”
The group’s focus sharpens. Heads turn, eyes darting from Patty to Soul and back again, with furtive looks at Maka. She can feel her face heating up a little at the attention. Soul’s eyes go wide and he proceeds to choke on his own spit. Maka pounds him hard on the back.
“What?” he asks, when he recovers. “That’s a stupid dare. Why would you ask me to do that?”
“You can take a drink first if you need to,” says Patty innocently.
Maka glares. “Hey, I’m not that ugly.”
“You don’t have – “ Tsubaki begins, at the same time that Kid starts speaking. “Patricia, that dare is hardly appropriate – “
Patty shooshes them both with waves of her hands. Her eyes dart between Soul and Maka. Soul’s cheeks have turned light pink. Not such a cool guy after all, huh. Maka smirks a little.
“What are you,” says Patty, looking Soul dead in the eye. “Chicken?”
Soul swallows visibly. At that, Patty starts clucking.
Star cackles, sitting up enough that he can make eye contact with Soul. “Oh my God. Oh my God, is this your first kiss? And with Maka? Dude. Duuuude.”
“Shut the hell up,” snaps Soul, and he’s definitely red. “Like you’ve ever kissed anyone, dumbass.”
“That’s so sweet,” says Liz, putting a hand to her chest. “So precious.”
“Stop these ridiculous noises at once,” Kid says, but his voice is drowned out because Black Star’s joined in, rooster-crowing with gusto. Maka rolls her eyes.
“Idiots,” she says, not bothering to hide her annoyance, and reaches over and grabs Soul’s chin to guide his lips to hers. He doesn’t protest. His eyes, usually so sleepy-looking, are wide open and very red, even in the dimness of the evening, and rimmed with girlishly long lashes the same color as his hair. His lips are chapped but warm.
Black Star and Patty are yelling enthusiastically. Someone wolf-whistles. “Mmkh,” says Soul, after only seven seconds, and tries to pull away. She buries her fingers in the soft, unstyled hairs at the nape of his neck and holds him in place with a frown. She’s going to make damn sure they win this dare. Soul puts his hands on her shoulders. “Mgnsn – WACHOO!”
Maka is left blinking, face covered in a fine spray of Soul’s spit. “Ew!” she cries, face flushing. Black Star and Patty are howling with laughter. Even Tsu’s cracking a smile, the traitor, though she at least has the decency to hide it behind her hand. Maka scrubs furiously at her face with the hem of her t-shirt.
“You stupid!” she snaps, rounding on Soul, on whose reddened face is writ some heinous combination of annoyance, embarrassment, and mild fear. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna sneeze?”
“I tried, but you wouldn’t let me! It’s your fault, you dumb bookworm!”
“How is your sneeze my fault?!”
“Just stop, you’re drunk.”
“Oh, I’ll show you drunk,” she hisses, and snatches the bottle and manages to chug two mouthfuls before coughing violently.
They stay out until the second bottle is finished, and then halfway through the third that Patty pulls from the cheerful beach bag heaped at her sandaled feet. Truth or dare turns to never have I ever turns to them looking up at the sky and trying to count all the stars before subsiding into lazy drunken conversation. Even Kid had some, though it seems to have no effect. Stupid Shinigami genes. It’s only when Black Star falls asleep leaning against Tsubaki’s legs that the girl in question gets somewhat unsteadily to her feet and announces that they really ought to go home.
“I agree,” says Maka, and stands up also. Big mistake. The world seems to tilt violently, and she feels like she’s gonna hurl. The taste of shitty strawberry flavoring is strong on her tongue, mingling unpleasantly with that of alcohol. She manages to keep it all down, for now.
“Woah,” says a voice, and then there are arms around her. Soul. What a good weapon, she thinks distantly. Always has my back. “You OK there?”
“M’fine,” she slurs. She tries to take a step, and wobbles dangerously.
They say their goodbyes – Maka manages a fairly coordinated wave, of which she feels rather proud – and go their separate ways. She makes it until they round the first bend the street takes before throwing up with gusto against the side of a building.
“Oh my God, I told you to take it easy,” Soul grouses, but he holds her hair back just the same. Maka heaves again. Wet noises against cobblestone bricks. Her body shakes. She holds her position, arms braced against the wall, forehead pushed into them, until her head stops spinning. She’s cold, she realizes distantly.
“For a bookworm, you sure are dumb sometimes,” Soul mutters, and a moment later something warm gets thrown over her shoulders. She straightens. The world rocks. She feels the jacket start to slip off. “Woah, careful with that,” says her weapon, and catches it, hand splayed on the middle of her back. Even through the jacket she can feel the warmth of it, or maybe she’s just drunk. “Don’t get your gross throw-up on it, shit was expensive.”
She snorts. It is a weak approximation of her usual full-bodied disdain, and perhaps this is what makes Soul help her put her arms through the sleeves. He pulls a handkerchief from nowhere and uses it to dab residual vomit from her face. Like a mother hen, she thinks distantly, and the thought in conjunction with her aloof, too-cool-for-school partner makes her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” Soul asks, and then shakes his head. “Actually, don’t tell me, it’s probably really stupid.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agrees.
Soul looks at the handkerchief and wrinkles his nose before his eyes dart to hers. “You’re not gonna throw up anymore, are you?” he asks, deadly serious.
After a moment’s thought, Maka shakes her head.
“You better not be lying,” Soul grumbles, turning his back to her and bending his knees. Maka stares at him, uncomprehending. “What are you waiting for,” Soul says gruffly. “Hop on.”
“This is embarrassing,” she mumbles, cheek pressed against his back, arms looped haphazardly around his shoulders. “It’s th’meister that carries th’weapon, not the other way ‘round.”
He shifts her a little farther up on his body. “No shit, Sherlock. Try not to get so drunk you barf next time.”
“Mmm,” she says, and closes her eyes. Silence falls between them for a time. Maka nearly falls asleep, lulled by the rocking motion of Soul’s steps and his warmth, vibrant against her front.
“Y’know, it’s kinda crazy,” Soul sighs, “that we can go out and kill monsters, but we can’t go into a bar and get alcohol that doesn’t taste like artificially sweetened gasoline.”
“We’re like thirteen,” Maka mumbles. “Alcohol’s for adults.”
Soul doesn’t say anything for a few moments. “You Death Kids or whatever they call you locals are fuckin’ crazy.”
“You got it backwards. It’s S’the rest of the world that doesn’t make sense.”
When they get to the apartment, Soul makes her walk up the stairs. She does, groaning and stumbling, but Soul manages to shepherd her through the door and into her bedroom. He undoes the straps of her boots and yanks them off, and her socks too for good measure. By this point she’s too tired to form words, so she gropes half-blind in the moonlit dimness of her room until she finds his hand and grabs it, a soft questing pressure. She hopes he understands.
(He does. Soul doesn’t leave until she falls asleep.)
#soulxmakaweek#somaweek2020#somaweek#soulxmaka#soma#soul eater#soul eater fanfiction#se by z#soul/maka#zxanthe writes sometimes
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Character Profile (Music Edition): Skaði Askrtytär
For many of us, music is a source of inspiration for our characters, so I want to know what songs inspire and/or relate to your muse! Choose between 10-15 songs, compile them into an album and tag some friends to share the beat!
Growing Wings - "Exhausted" Mashup.
I burn in a basin of fire, watchers look on
as they dance in their merciless sky
Watching me, watching you
Silent black, the dawn, and time tells its tale;
Darkened blood, it flows, the forest receives
Look within the dark as deep as you dare,
there inside you find destruction you seek
El・Tango ・Egoista -【EDB-M1】
Have no mercy, ask no questions (Please hear out our plea)
Death is the only redemption (for sanctuary)
Rotting, decaying, we're fated to fall deep into the clutches of the earth
Dying since our birth, withering into dirt; to Her you have no worth
Do you still believe in Her lies?
If I Had a Heart - Olga Vocal Ensemble Cover
This will never end 'cause I want more;
More, give me more, give me more
If I had a heart I could love you, If I had a voice I would sing
After the night when I wake up, I'll see what tomorrow brings
More, give me more, give me more
Leviathan, the girl - PhemieC
What a vision of darkness, creeps in with desperate sharpness,
Lecherous grafting of knowledge to my young mortal subconscious,
Words writ by breath of the ancients, wiser than even the pagans,
I am the beast, I am the light, I am the blighted being cursed with sight,
I am the god who created a world
Gaia - Cepheid
Born, emerging from heat and flames; tempered by violent rays
Come, come see her withstand; dancing with astral grace
Waves of destruction unaltered in Heaven's wake
Still withstanding time and space
Ever, relentlessly, she ascends to Reign!
Jekyll & Hyde -【RafScrap】Cover
Can't forget the night we met, that girl saw me in ecstacy
But her stare, her eyes, her hair, looked just like me
"Silly girl, a precious pearl. Let me break your chains away, and set you free"
Then suddenly, I could see everything, lost in the air, flying and fluttering
I had to see a different me end the life of the people closest to me
Myosotis - M2U
Si nos amas, serva nos
We'll get used to this hoax that our love made
When the moon comes out to watch the bright daylight die
Hopefully you'll get used to my hugs and goodbyes
When my love falls out of the sky as mournful rain
Ethereal - horizon
I am atlas, I am air; watch me spin silk
I am your heart, left bare; watch me spill blood
I'm fine with words unsaid 'cause your soul sings to mine
They intertwine, you and I
No one will save you - Aviators
I burned your world away, devoured by my conviction
Don't cry when lanterns fade, soon we'll be awakened
I can't hold the beast that crawls through my veins, sacrificing my own eyes Don't you scream when all the wolves come find you,
underneath this bleeding moon
No confessions left to purify me, something's watching from the skies
Comrade’s Song - Emi Evans
When dizziness overcomes me, I transcend time.
Drenched in lies, I falsely perceive my memories.
You, blood, death, and madness, shall become my life.
Reason, pain, the world, and sight, shall someday know my significance.
I’ll Keep Coming - Low Roar
Faintly I'll go, to take this head on
Soon I'll come around, lost and never found
Waiting for my words, seen but never heard
Buried underground, but I'll keep coming
Save you - PhemieC
There was a darkness that knew me, and raised me wild and strong
So hated, and so feared was she, though fearful most of all
She whispered of a hunger deep and as old as the bones beneath her meat
All strange serenades and never sleeps yet never wakes, I'll save you all
Victim - Mili
Isn't it pretty? All my life, all my poetry leaving me;
And the angels sing, surrouding me - put me to sleep
I've done it all for you; I am a wolf, I am a crow, I am a bat;
A butterfly in disguise - I am in the air, in the sea, in the moment;
I'm in you, in me
The Black Song - Emi Evans
A harmless song of ruin which creates a monster that harms itself, and others Spreading my wings of death, on high, love blooms from the darkest white
I hear distant murmers, sweet whisperings from the wings of the past
No escape from the death, emerging from the scarlet woods
Pregnant with the spawn of an abomination, I let go these weak thoughts
I wanted to do one more for Skadi so I’m not taggin anyone in this, feel free to steal it from me though!!
#tag mems#yes this was an excuse for me to try my hand at more jeffs#i need a new thing to record it though cause editing those hurt my soul#:Of Forgotten Gods:
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LADY GAGA - STUPID LOVE
[6.42]
Far from "Shallow" now...
Brad Shoup: Thudding sixteenths and vocal chop straight out of a Todd Edwards remix... it's always great when she visits.
[8]
Wayne Weizhen Zhang: It must be exhausting to be Lady Gaga. Here's a short list of her accomplishments since 2013's ARTPOP: winning a Grammy for a jazz duets album, winning a Golden Globe for her role in American Horror Story, headlining the Super Bowl, co-hosting arguably the best Met Gala in years, winning an Oscar for A Star is Born, getting a number one Billboard single from the soundtrack, launching a vegan make-up line, and starring in a Las Vegas residency. And yet, the dominant critical narrative has still essentially been: Gaga is absent from pop music. (For comparison, Katy Perry has been a judge on American Idol.) Of course, her self-mythologizing is partially to blame for this, but it's unclear what could have possibly satisfied her critics and die-hard fans outside of re-reinventing music à la 2010. So what's her move given the weight of the world's impossible expectations? To make simple, unpretentious pop music on her own terms. In a recent Billboard interview, she laughed while stating, "I would like to put out music that a big chunk of the world will hear, and it will become a part of their daily lives, and make them happy every single day." My first reaction upon reading this was: yes, we should hold Gaga to a higher standard because she's Gaga, but how can we balance that with the potentially damaging effects for her mental health and sanity? So on "Stupid Love" when she sings, "Now it's time to free me from this chain/I gotta find that peace, is it too late?" I like to hope it's meta-commentary on her rediscovering the joy in her music and being, free of expectation. Gaga tracks are often described as "huge" or "epic", but none has ever so perfectly embodied "fun." I'm definitely excited about how this track sounds -- an ebullient return to her earliest disco pop roots, at a time when radio is dominated by trap -- but "Stupid Love" stands out to me because of her embrace of radical self-love. This is the Gaga that I've always loved -- and she's always been enough.
[9]
Leah Isobel: The production filters back an entire decade's worth of Stefani's influence into a three-minute Fruit Gusher burst of tang, but the lyrics are decidedly forward-looking, all declarative statements of "now is the time!" bullshit. In the middle of this past/present/future time-play, as the beat drops out beneath her, she asserts the key line: "all I ever wanted was lahv." If it's a disappointingly shallow retcon for an artist whose initial breadth and ambition was the entire point, the promise of it lingers in my brain. After all, it's not too far from a similar pop megalomaniac realizing that she "traded fame for love without a second thought" about 20 years ago. That rich vein of popstar self-examination writ large is so suited to Gaga's talents as an artist -- a provocateur, fake-deep philosopher, musical theatre nerd, and hook-writing master all at once -- that I have listened to this song five times in a row pretty much every single day since it, uh, appeared on the internet. My paws are reluctantly up, Stef. Don't fuck it up.
[7]
Jessica Doyle: Fun, and otherwise unremarkable. If you've been a Gaga fan for a while -- if you're invested in the narrative of this hardworking woman, who has been through downs and ups and downs and then ups again -- I imagine the fun is enhanced by a certain comfort and relief in seeing her have fun; in imagining her feeling strong and secure enough to release a fun song that doesn't have to upend anything. But I am a heartless, acontextual consumer, for whom the marginal cost of listening to something else is zero, and I miss "Bad Romance."
[5]
Tobi Tella: For an artist who at her peak overstuffed everything with too many ideas, there's really not much happening here. It's loud and upbeat, sure, but the lyrics are barely the thread of a coherent song, and the production reminds everyone who wants "pure" pop to come back to be careful what they wish for. Maybe that A Star is Born "pop music bad guitar music good" cynicism rubbed off too much?
[4]
Katherine St Asaph: Just when I thought Gaga was lost to the land of Real Music™, or worse, flailing attempts to be chill by the least chill performer in pop music (yes, including Taylor Swift), she goes and releases this, 50,000 firecrackers on a Eurovision stage. The thicket of hooks is packed, with Black Midi levels of referential density. The whole thing sounds like "Born This Way," which is to say it sounds like "Express Yourself"; there's a juddering sequencer out of "Do What U Want" (reminds me more of "Weekend" by Class Actress, but which is more likely to be the actual inspiration?) and a touch of, of all things, September's "Cry For You." Gaga fills every crevice of the song with singing, throaty and belty and huge: a relief after years of songs filled only with half-assed #vibes. If it feels frivolous against much of Born This Way and The Fame Monster and some of Artpop, and far less ambitious, it at least pulls her out of the "Shallow" piano muck.
[7]
Vikram Joseph: Perhaps a stupid song about making stupid choices is the Lady Gaga lead single we both need and deserve in 2020. The battering-ram synths feel like running down a hill into a gale-force wind; the best thing about "Stupid Love" is that Gaga sounds like she's having a lot of fun, and by extension so are we.
[7]
Alex Clifton: "Stupid Love," much like "Born This Way" before it, is ready-made for pride parades, grown from the same mystical lab that gave Lady Gaga her incredible melodic sensibilities. Unlike its predecessor, though, it has more euphoria in it, presumably because it's not making a political point. Gaga's more focused on having fun here, and you can tell. The verses aren't my favourite, but the chorus hits as an overwhelming rush of dopamine, and now I can't stop dancing in my computer chair. Between this and Dua Lipa's album, we're in for a hell of a good time for pop music this spring, and I am extremely excited.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: She was doing this better a decade ago. A lot better.
[2]
Joshua Lu: The narrative surrounding "Stupid Love" regards it a return to the Pop Gaga that's been mostly absent since 2013: A revival if you're a fan, a regression if you're not. The issue with this narrative is that "Stupid Love" lacks any key similarities to the Gaga of yesteryear; the only real sonic link is how the bassline brings to mind the since-redacted "Do What U Want" beat. Instead we have something that's somehow not a Kygo song, with vocal chirps that got old last year, serviceable but clichéd hooks (the entire pre-chorus has all the charm of a Taio Cruz album track), remarkably basic lyrics filled with platitudes, and a title that has no bearing on anything in the song -- there's nothing lyrically or aurally stupid about anything here, and Gaga has shown a deep capacity to be stupid in her past pop works. In reality, what we have here isn't a return to anything, but rather the continued flagging of Gaga's desire to develop genuinely off-beat or interesting pop music, whether intentional or not. Gaga's talents as a vocalist elevate the song beyond the usual pop pap, but it's not nearly at the level I once hoped she could remain at.
[6]
Alfred Soto: Kudos to Jamieson Cox for catching an obvious forebear: the rattling sequencer recalls 2013's forgotten "Do What U Want," which was all set to do some business until radio programmers remembered R. Kelly had been a menace for years. Amiably confusing lack of affect with simplicity, "Stupid Love" flexes its pop strength with the expectation that fans will admire it.
[7]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: The synths pack a punch but they never quite get me to where I should be. I wanna feel desperation, exasperation -- that love is worth looking stupid for. All I get is a familiar, quasi-stoic performance that sounds like Gaga's doing some excellent karaoke.
[4]
Kayla Beardslee: Sure, it's competent, but Gaga is capable of so much more. Many other blurbs will discuss the song's aggressive datedness and bland lyrics, but what really bothers me is that the two halves of "Stupid Love" -- the dramatic vocals and the unrelenting gallop of the synths -- don't fit together. Gaga is giving her all with those signature "laahv"s, but there's just not enough empty space left for her in the production. Her performance ends up laying flat on top of the track, adding nothing except a sense of laziness from her producers and engineers.
[5]
Pedro João Santos: Serviceable Max Martin bopathon scams its way into my brain again -- no matter how direly in need of an incubator this whole structure is. Gaga's weakest lead single feeds you Kygo, threatens to ascend during "All I ever wanted was love", and still can't fight the aura of afterthought.
[6]
Jibril Yassin: "Stupid Love" is a giddy rush of EDM-pop fun, but it's the first time experiencing a major Gaga single entirely devoid of surprises. Bracing yourself for a twist that never arrives or a strange turn of vocals rearing its head from nowhere, "Stupid Love" makes up for its unremarkableness with a masterclass in songwriting. What Lady Gaga hasn't forgotten how to do is translate the feeling of having your initial gut feelings completely validated. "Stupid Love" makes its magic in casting the act of love as necessary and dare I say it -- radical.
[7]
Jackie Powell: On "Stupid Love" Lady Gaga achieved a corollary. By trying to put her healing process into simple poetry, she also created an accompanying sound that's comparable to an analgesic. The function of the track is to heal and liberate. (Truth be told, Little Monster or not, the song has helped me get out of bed in the morning.) Gaga's latest cut is packaged into a familiar formula, and that's part of the reason why this track serves as a formidable lead single and symbol for the upcoming Chromatica. The equation is one that mirrors the "best of" Stefani Germanotta. What's brilliant about "Stupid Love" is that its visual and lyrical messaging and surrounding sonic arrangement and melody bring what Little Monsters and casual music fans with a Gaga fascination expect. And that's okay. She has told Oprah that her goal now isn't just to shock people but rather to exude authenticity. She stirs elements from all of her pop eras into the most hearty and flavourful version of Gaga soup (and that does include Joanne contrary to popular belief.) Each ingredient works and is soluble. She tossed in the elements of the The Fame that made fans want to Just Dance and sprinkled some catchy Swedish-sounding pop melodies (Max Martin, hello!) and sung onomatopoeia from The Fame Monster, à la the "hey-ah, hey-ahs." A suspenseful build, uniquely potent and soaring vocals are ounces of Born This Way. Don't worry, ARTPOP is doused on this track not only in color, but in sound. There's a reason why that sped up "Do What U Want"-esque bassline works. There's a contrast between her bright vocal performance and the electronic bass' darkness. Joanne comes across in the allegorical concept which once again can be interpreted to reflect the current American experience. Music video director Daniel Askill confirmed that Gaga wanted to portray the "warring tribes as a metaphor for the state of the world today." So, Mother Monster is on a mission to introduce the world to her new brainchild, ever-developing ideologies and honest ways to examine life. "Stupid Love" isn't the end-all but merely the beginning. Paws up and welcome to Chromatica bitches.
[8]
Nortey Dowuona: NOPE! WAIT. wait. This is actually a welcome back for... the bass, who is joined by his drumming sister, his synth bros and Lady Gaga, who has come here from the Make A Wish Foundation to take him around New York. They have a wonderful day together, with the synth bros getting their percussive background vocal girlfriend an NYPD hoodie, and the experience convinces Lady Gaga to make bright, happy pop music again! (The bass, in the midst of a happy dance, got hit by her limo and had to go back to the hospital.)
[8]
Scott Mildenhall: Between its hyperventilating over-excitement and ever-exciting hyper-sincerity, Gaga seems to have finally created a pop emergency. The false alarm of "Applause" was overstuffed and underpowered, but "Stupid Love" redresses that balance by going harder and clearer, like a newly thawed cut from a cryogenically frozen, course-correcting Artpop Monster edition. Time might seem to have turned in on itself, but no: the greater lyrical directness arrives in a way that feels culminatory. The plainspokenness of that indelible "all I ever wanted was love" makes it almost an epitaph, grounding it in a present in which all experience has been lived, and all realisations are realised. Undeniably, Lady Gaga is not dead, but this is what she knows.
[8]
Will Adams: I defended "The Cure" and lamented the immense pressure on Gaga to make every release the Next Big Thing, however even that soured when it turned out to be part of A Star Is Born's ~superficial pop~ world. So where to next, when she's caught between turgid rock balladry and ill-fitting trop-pop? On "Stupid Love," we get the best possible outcome: whizzing past Joanne, making a brief stop at Artpop but ultimately landing on the dazzling excess of Born This Way. Like any good synthpop number, the synths display a wide range of textures: they tunnel, they drill, they poof, they gleam. Gaga is more than willing to match their energy. Noteworthy, though, is that she takes a brief pause only on the pre-chorus's "all I ever wanted was love"; even the way the title scans it almost sounds like she could be singing "I want just to be loved." This is the essence of pop: amidst the big dumb fireworks display, a human message at the core.
[7]
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