#the first thing i noted about magnus was that he was always trying to help them not giving a shit if he was in danger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

Note

i love it when people apply the whole “humans are space orcs” idea to transformer humans.

jack, miko and raf just doing regular, average day things that make the bots both extremely worried and unsettled gives me so much brainrot.

I got you here. I love this kind of lore/reaction ask.

Each of the children have a particular habit that bothers the team more than anything else. Can it be explained? Not really. All humans do the things they do. But for the bots, it is strange and out of sorts all the same.

Miko always carries around a bottle of sparkling water. She adores the stuff. The team, despite knowing it is not what the name implies, are still horrified with her drinking habits. Not to mention, they can't help but wonder where all the liquid goes. She drinks up to three whole bottles of water a day. In her own words "Hydrate or die." That in it of itself is concerning since the team, while well aware that humans need water, do not know how much they need exactly. The team are down right terrified of her ability to down water like a dry sponge. How can such a small fleshy even consume that much? They aren't entirely sure. Not only that, but if she drinks that much, then are Jack and Rafael getting enough? They can't be.

Not only does Miko down water like a bone dry houseplant, she also drinks just about anything else too. The team have seen her chug sodas which contain Primus knows how many strange chemicals and compounds. They've observed her willingly drink things that no other would on bets, including food that has been blended and watered down just because Jack wanted to see if it was possible for her to down hotdog cafeteria milk cheeto apple slurry.

Yes the team are terrified of humans and their ability to put anything inside themselves and walk it off. But more than any other, they fear Miko. Who knows what she's consumed.

All the kids do it, but Jack is the most notable since when he needs to go to the restroom, he makes it loud and clear mainly so that someone knows to keep an eye on Miko. The team are aware that organics have a need to manually handle removing waste since their systems are rather inefficient, however there is a certain level of mysteriousness surrounding the restrooms. The bots don't want to watch or even know HOW the humans get rid of waste, but they do know that THINGS happen in the restroom that seem to either be painful, emotional, refreshing, or aggravating. No one can really be sure what reaction will follow those who enter the space. Sometimes Jack or one of the other kids will go in there seemingly to just be alone.

It is a strange and almost sacred location where strange happenings occur. Miko went in once with bloody clothes and emerged with a fresh set before Ratchet could figure out what was wrong in the first place. Jack went in once and came out an hour later looking like he'd gone to war after he convinced Arcee to let him stop and get takeout the night before. Rafael took his charger and computer in there and hogged the space for a while to get away from the others once. The team does not know what happens in there, but it is mildly concerning since it either repairs or breaks a person.

Bulkhead theorizes that its a pocket dimension like the shadow zone. Ratchet refuses to think about it. Optimus will say nothing about whatever he knows. Arcee and Bee assume its a safe haven or sorts and Wheeljack is almost certain they keep weapons in there. Ultra Magnus and Smokescreen both agree that the restroom is simply a quiet space where a human can deal with personal issues in peace.

No bot is willing to try and confirm anything since humans flip out at any attempts to view the supposedly sacred ground.

Rafael is generally pretty good about flying under the radar most of the time, but he has a habit that has caught the team's attention. Humans have been noted doing what they can to clean themselves on their own. Its rather ineffective to clean one's own venting openings with digits considering the sheer amount of germs involved, but it is not out of the question to do so when a cleaning cloth is not available. Rafael occasionally and quietly trying to clean his nose is not what bothers the team.

No what horrifies them is the goop that he pulls out after his attempt at cleaning. What Ratchet has studied states that the goop is referred to by a number names, but is commonly called snot. Its the natural germ catcher humans have, but it still unsettles the team whenever Rafael quietly blows a few or when one of the others grabs a tissue and makes a rather disgusting sound as they try to clear their airways.

The goop reminds the team of any number of horrible things. But the sheer amount of GROSS within a small amount of the stuff has left the team all gagging whenever they find the stuff around base. Rafael is usually good about being clean, but sometimes he gets lazy and will use his chair to hide his cleaning attempts. Bumblebee has almost purged a few times seeing the marks on the chair from where Rafael may or may not have wiped his fingers.

Is he twelve? Yes. Is he fully mature? No. That much is evident just by looking at his chair.

282 notes · View notes

toriangeli · 1 month

Text

I was writing a longer post with my takes on all the 18th century costumes in the trailer, but this section about what we see in the theatre with Armand watching Lestat perform got long, so I'm posting it separately.

If you thought you remembered Lestat mentioning in TVL how Lelio doesn’t wear a mask, you’re not imagining things. He doesn’t. Moreover, there’s something very distinctive about the pattern on his costume. Those triangles on his sleeves?

What’s more, the mask he’s wearing is a straight-up replica of this:

The mask itself will change between eras and theatres, but for this character, it always has that boil on the forehead. That triangle pattern and the mask together are for the character of Arlecchino/Harlequin. Below is one traditional (VERY pre-18th century) look for Lelio:

Arlecchino is one of the goofier Commedia characters, being an aged, ugly, and supposedly stupid valet with a kind of trickster persona. The triangle pattern is meant to mimic patchwork, and is also seen on Arlecchino’s lover, the lady’s maid Columbina.

But we know Lestat played Lelio in Paris, not Arlecchino. It would be extremely weird for him to switch. I don’t even think the guy who usually plays Arlecchino would want to give him up for the night if he could help it, since that’s like…the classic Commedia character, and kind of the opposite of Lestat's usual.

I think what we’re seeing could be Lestat’s particular genius with Commedia, where he could play this relatively unfunny young lover but still be very funny with it. I think Lelio is disguising himself as Arlecchino for some kind of lover’s shenanigans. Disguise hijinks are all over the place in the fiction of this era, a comedy trope that was really made popular by Commedia. If you’ll note, Arlecchino in the picture wears a mask fixed to his face, not on a wand, leaving both his hands free because the mask is worn constantly. I think Lestat may be using this style of mask so he can bring the mask away from his face when he’s speaking as Lelio and not Arlecchino.

Why is that interesting?

Because this isn’t how it goes the one time Lestat is onstage in Paris as a vampire, at all. In that particular mental breakdown, Lestat doesn’t bother with any character at all, even if he's dressed for Lelio. He just starts doing wild shit. But Armand is at this performance. I could see Armand stalking him at the meltdown performance, as someone from the Children of Satan was there to witness it, but nobody from the CoS indulges in these human frivolities and they wouldn't just happen to be there and notice Lestat. It was their entire beef with Lestat in the first place, that he was acting like a human and not like a demon. The CoS did stalk Lestat, but only after he became a vampire—that we know of.

My theory: the CoS noticed Magnus noticing Lestat and Armand wondered what was up. We know they were keeping close tabs on Magnus. Moreover, Armand…his costume is hard to see because of the Where’s Waldo nature of the pic below, but he’s dressed simply and in black, in what does not look anything like 18th century Western European clothing. His hair is disheveled, too. He doesn’t blend in at all, but he wouldn’t blend in anyway when every single other face in that crowd is lily-white. I think, then, that he’s wearing something non-Western that I’m not familiar with. Judging by what looks to be a split, flowing sleeve, it could be Russian or Arab or from any number of countries Armand would believably be a native of. He may have grabbed clothing that would let him blend in simply as a brown man in the 18th century who isn’t trying to look French. Any actual fashion historians who know non-Western clothing would need to be on this one.

I may not be able to identify what Armand is wearing here, but everyone else is looking 1780’s French to me. Reenactors I’ve known have joked about how in every century, the 80’s has massive hair. We’ve also just begun the transition away from the conical torso/bell-shaped skirts in 1770’s women’s fashion and toward the empire waist that will dominate until roughly 1820. 1780’s gowns have a wonderful freeness to them.

Anyway, either Armand was stalking Lestat before he was turned, or Lestat did more than one performance as a vampire. I think the former is more believable, personally, since we know they were keeping an eye on Magnus.

#amc iwtv #iwtv #armand #the vampire armand #the vampire lestat #lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire #costume stuff ig #can't wait till the show airs and i can see how much i was wrong about

109 notes · View notes

mikecrewsteacup · 1 year

Text

The un-addressed hilarity of Gertrude not realizing Eric had quit the Archives before dying. Let's recap how that got mentioned:

Right. So Gertrude was under the impression that Eric Delano was working on statements, presumably either transcription or researching old leads; maybe she even occasionally let them file things for fun before she'd go disorganize them herself later on. And we can assume she didn't actually keep very close tabs on them, so it's even possible if Eric had quit a week prior to his murder, she would have naturally missed it.

But...months?

I present to you the only possible explanation: that Jonah Magnus (who would have been hiding in Wright's body at the time, not Elias' yet) had to be the one frantically trying to keep Gertrude in the dark about it being possible to quit the Archives. After not interfering for the two years Eric Delano spent trying to quit — presumably he underestimated Eric the way he does Martin later on, and just didn't bother checking in on him until OH SHIT I CANT SEE ERIC WHERE DID HE GO — Jonah suddenly had a huge problem on his hands.

So please, imagine Jonah sneaking back into the Archives after dark (or just never leaving at all) and frantically rifling through Eric's desk to do his paperwork. Knowing just enough information about Eric's intended leads to pretend they'd been interviewed and take fake notes (but not TOO fake as to be suspicious! Eric was always a pretty serious and dedicated employee!). Just generally making it appear that an entire employee had not left for MULTIPLE. MONTHS.

I know we discuss how to Jonah this show is a workplace comedy for the first like 4 seasons, but it's implied shenanigans like this that really showcase it for me.

(Also now I can't help but wonder if Jonah is a natural at mimicking handwriting, or if Eric's notes from that period abruptly go from 'neat and tidy but modern cursive' to 'ye olde script, hastily attempting to look modern'.)

#Eric Delano #gertrude robinson #tma #i don't always post meta but when I do you bet it's stupid!!#Jonah Magnus #eric being a straight-laced hard worker who just loves ghosts so much he then married an evil village witch is iconic tbh #So is Jonah getting himself in a pickle bc he forgets to use being literally fucking omniscient and telepathic

358 notes · View notes

lokidokieokie · 1 year

Text

The Price of Deception pt 1

Summary: After discovering Loki's failed attempt at taking over Earth, his family confronts him and he must earn their forgiveness.

Pairing: Avengers!Loki x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warning(s): angst, and uhhh more angst, I don’t really know what else to put here

Note: Slight AU here, Loki did not die and the events of Thor did not go to the extent of the film

You hadn't seen Loki in months, not since he left Asgard to explore the Nine Realms. At first, you didn't think much of it. After all, he had always been restless, eager to see new things and go on adventures. But then, your children started asking for him.

“Mummy, when is Daddy coming home?” your daughter, Freya, asked one evening as you tucked her into bed.

You sighed. “I don't know, sweetheart. He's still out exploring.”

“But I miss him,” Freya pouted.

“I know, I miss him too,” you admitted, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “But he'll be back soon, I promise.”

Days turned into weeks, and still there was no sign of Loki. Your children grew more and more restless, and you started to worry. What if something had happened to him?

One day, as you were putting your six-month-old son, Magnus, down for a nap, you heard a knock at the door. It was Thor.

“Thor! What brings you here?” you greeted him warmly, inviting him in.

“I do not bring good tidings, sister. I'm here to bring you to Midgard,” he said simply.

“What? To Midgard? Why?” you asked, confused.

“It's about Loki. I do not have time to explain; it is urgent that you and the children come with me to Midgard at once.” Thor replied cryptically.

You hesitated. In your centuries of life, you had never once been to Midgard. With their backwards traditions and views on women, it was never a place you deemed worthy of visiting. But when you thought about how much your children had been asking for their father, you realised that you didn’t have the heart to deny them the opportunity.

“Alright, Thor. We’ll come with you,” you said firmly.

Thor nodded, and the four of you set off for Midgard.

As soon as you arrived, you could tell that something was wrong. The Avengers--or so you assumed--were all gathered in the common room, looking tense and worried. And in the middle of the room, chained up and looking dejected inside of a glass container, was Loki.

Your heart sank. What had he done now?

“Mummy, is that Daddy?” Freya asked, tugging on your sleeve.

Her sweet little voice seemed to grab the attention of everyone in the room; and soon all eyes were on your little family.

Attempting to ignore their stares, you turned and nodded at your daughter. “Yes, sweetheart, that’s your father.”

“What's he doing there?” Freya demanded.

You didn't have an answer for her. You were now too busy staring at Loki, trying to figure out what was going on.

Trying not to wake the sleeping baby in your arms and keeping a firm grip on your daughter’s hand, you turned to your brother-in-law and asked. “Thor, what's happening?”

Not meeting your eyes Thor replied, “It's complicated, sister.”

You glared at him. Complicated? Wasn’t everything that involved your husband complicated? “I want answers, Thor. And I'm not going to ask you twice.”

Thor sighed, looking defeated. “Loki...he tried to conquer Midgard. He attacked New York.”

Your blood boiled. “He did what? Why would he attempt such a thing?”

"I don't know," Thor admitted. “But he's here now, and we need your help.”

“My help?” you repeated incredulously.

“Yes. He’s refusing to talk to anyone. But I thought that possibly, if you talked to him, you could get through to him.” Thor said, looking at you hopefully.

You gaze shifted over at Loki. He was watching you, his eyes filled with sadness and what you assumed was regret. You could see the pain etched on his face, and for a moment, you felt a twinge of sympathy.

But then you remembered your children, and the way they had been asking for their father. You thought about how much they had been missing him, and how much they had been looking forward to seeing him again. And you knew what you had to do.

“Fine,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I'll talk to him.”

A/N I always feel the need to write angst!

Taglist! Everything: @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley Loki: @dryyoursaltyoceantears

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki angst #loki x wife!reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader

276 notes · View notes

multistanisms · 1 month

Text

Soft Notes & Gentle Shades | Shadowhunters

FANDOM: Shadowhunters

PAIRING: Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane

WORD COUNT: 1246

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: Living together has brought some complicated feelings for young artist Magnus and vocal prodigy Alec. The moments where they can sneak loving looks are some of the most treasured.

☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

Being roommates with a music major wasn’t as terrifying as Magnus had originally suspected. Alec’s preferred instrument was an acoustic guitar, thank Nyx, and more often than not, Magnus found himself listening quietly to the lilt of Alec’s voice as he practiced the assigned music or worked on covers for his hobby posting covers on youtube. Sometimes he would just sit and watch, enjoying the way the slightly younger male got into the music. It was beautiful and inspiring. Magnus would never forget the first time he picked up a charcoal pencil and began rough sketching Alec leaning back on their couch, fingers strumming as he taught himself “Thinking Out Loud”. Drawing Alec was something Magnus did to try and keep his feelings for his roommate and friend in check. Today had been rough, professor Fairchild critiquing works meant to be reminiscent of Van Gogh and only a handful of his classmates got a decent amount of praise. Magnus himself had gotten a fair bit of it, but he hadn’t been satisfied with his work, and he had admitted as such. Professor Fairchild - his favorite of the art teachers he’d had - had smiled as she patted his shoulder and explained that it was okay to not like every work he created.

“Sometimes things didn’t fit our usual style, Magnus. It’s okay to not feel complete when we try something new for the first time.”

Magnus had smiled and offered to let her keep his painting, since he didn’t feel he would do anything with it. The lovely woman had agreed and before he’d left, he had helped her hang it next to the vast window near her desk - the forest creek beautiful, but to Magnus not complete. So he’d walked back to the dorm room and gone to put his things in his room, waving at Alec as he passed the other on the couch, smiling back when the blue eyed man smiled and waved as he held his guitar. He set his bag in his room and grabbed his homework, going to the other couch and opening his textbook to read about the Rococo period with Alec's voice in the background. After finishing the needed chapter and filling several pages in his notebook with notes for the next day, he stopped to get a snack from the kitchen, pausing as he actually began listening to the song Alec was singing. Why was his roommate so damn beautiful? It should be illegal and to top it off, Alec was so talented it was unreal. Magnus was in awe as he watched Alec, the other so lost in the music that he didn’t notice Magnus staring for a long moment. Dark eyes closed and Magnus had to shake himself as he moved back to his spot, pulling his sketchbook from the pile of stuff on the coffee table between them, pulling out one of his finer pencils and glancing up as he began to draw his roommate.

Alec wasn’t sure how to respond when he finished the practice of the cover he was working on to find Magnus drawing on a sketchpad. “Mags?” The nickname pulled Magnus from whatever he’d been working on, and he smiled, dark eyes so loving Alec melted inside. Why was Magnus always so perfect? But after a moment he figured he should say something, so he opened his mouth. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just...I heard you singing and it just kind of...sparked something. I needed to draw it.” Magnus replied, eyes going back to the page and smudging something the lightest bit.

“What is it?”

The artist shrugged a little. “Nothing major. Just a doodle, really.” he replied, waiting a moment with his lip caught between his teeth. “Will you sing again for me, Alexander?” The inquiry came with a smile and Alec forgot completely that he hadn’t been singing for Magnus, or even to his roommate. But he nodded and moved to make sure his guitar was in tune again, letting the song flow from him as he played.

“Pick up the pen, put it on the paper, Write on my skin, bring me to life. Can’t start again, there ain’t no eraser, All of my flaws, you got them so right.”

He didn’t notice as Magnus twirled his fingers to rotate the pencil before the other went back to work, Magnus shading and drawing without looking.

“Everything is blank until you’ve drawn me. Touching on my body like you know me. Write on me, color outside the lines. Love the way you tear me up, baby take your time. Write on me, give me some wings I’ll fly. Love the way you tear me up, I’ll never change my mind.”

Magnus didn’t need to look up to get the details right. He’d been drawing Alec for almost two years, after all. But it all came to life as he brought the image to life, drawn in by the music. The faintest smile curving Alec’s lips as he sang, the easy way slender fingers moved along the neck of the guitar, even the way the light filtered through raven hair. Magnus smiled as he filled in places and left others empty, the image perfect as he set the pencil down and closed the book, getting up to wash the pencil residue from his hands. “Should I give you some time to film so you can post?” he asked, looking over at Alec from the little kitchen island as he washed his hands off and dried them.

Alec looked up and smiled. “No, I’m not posting this week. The state contest is this weekend, I won’t have the time to edit. Besides, it’s not quite where I want it to be.” he answered, looking up as he put his guitar away. “How’d the critique go?”

“Good, I just didn’t feel like my piece was complete. Professor Fairchild has it in her room now.” he replied, smiling. “She loved that I went with the nature aspect. Most everyone went with self portrait style.”

“I don’t see why you didn’t do the self portrait.”

“I’m not good at drawing myself, Alexander.” Magnus replied, bringing a soda from the fridge over and handing it to Alec. “Are you nervous about the competition?”

“Not as worried as I was. We finally got results, and I was second chair.” came the reply as Alec popped the cap from the soda bottle and took a drink. “I mean, yeah, I’m still practicing, but I’m not as super worried about it like I was last week.”

“You’ll be fine, Alexander. One more patch and trophy, right?” Magnus teased, not missing the blush on Alec’s cheeks as the other bit his lower lip.

“I’m glad you don’t put much emphasis on my singing. That’s all some people see.”

Magnus arched a brow from where he had situated with another textbook. “Alexander, there is so much more to you than people believe. Maybe it’s because I have such a close relationship with you day to day, but I know there’s more to you than that angel’s voice of yours.” He gave an encouraging smile and Alec smiled back and when he looked back to his book, Alec moved to pick up his own textbook and the two fell into comfortable silence. Magnus didn’t comment on the fair blush painted along Alec’s face, and Alec didn’t mention the way Magnus’ eyes had lit as he’d said the words ‘close relationship’.

#College Dorm Series #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic #Malec #alec x magnus #this is what we call style ✭ queue

18 notes · View notes

noir-renard · 1 year

Text

@kiwwles you sent me an ask about fics I recommend, and I was trying to save the answer as a draft and the whole ask disappeared 🥲 I don't know if it got deleted or if I answered it privately, but since it appears all traces of it are gone, I will try to recreate it here, because I worked on it for a while and I don't know why tumblr is like this

AnYwAy, I chose two fics per category, from four categories: DPxDC, DP only, Batman (+ DC), and Other. I focused on DP/DC because I figure if you like IYGABAB, you might want to read more from those fandoms.

Here are my recs:

DPxDC

Vacation Crashers by @impyssadobsessions

Batman crashes in the wilderness following up a lead in a recent case.

Meanwhile the Fenton family was having a camping trip to celebrate Jazz's last year as a "kid", but considering who suggested the location, it spelt disaster.

Now Danny and Jazz have to survive an onslaught of ghosts, take care of an injured Batman, and while worrying about their parents.

This was the first DPxDC crossover fic I ever read; I saw Impy_'s art from this fic and I just had to know more, and now I'm happily tumbling down the rabbit hole into the wonderland that is the Danny Phantom/Batman crossover verse. Vacation Crashers is the first in a series, which is the best news ever ^w^ 10/10 recommendation!

Bat Ghost by @megaerakles

Bruce is attacked by the ghost of Batman from the future. To get to the bottom of it, he pays a visit to some prominent ghost hunters, and happens to encounter a teenaged half-ghost vigilante (?), who just *happens* to resemble Damian. A lot.

On an unrelated note, Tim Drake has done nothing wrong.

I love fics where the Batfam goes to Amity Park. It's always a good time to watch them out of their element and adapt accordingly. This is a particularly enjoyable rendition, and it's still updating, too!

DP only

Exhumed by Marsalias

AU where Danny left behind half his physical body when he half-died. (AKA Corpse AU.)

Marsalias is one of my favorite DP writers, hands down. I really love the Exhumed series in particular, though; the world-building is excellent, the OCs are wonderful, and the writing is skillful.

Trust Your Instincts by @peachdoxie

A new kind of danger threatens Amity Park. With no other leads, Maddie Fenton turns to the one individual that might be able to help: Danny Phantom. Meanwhile, after a near death experience, she begins to question everything she knows about ghosts.

Excellent Maddie-centric fic where a near-death experience forces her to confront her own prejudices and misconceptions around ghosts, as well as the failings of her own scientific hubris. Currently on hiatus, but this fic was my obsession this past spring. Features cool OCs, interesting ecto-science, and lots of heartfelt/heartwrenching conversations.

Batman only

Loading and Aspect Ratio by Jube514

A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything. (A Batfam Wingfic with a twist)

An excellent twist on the wingfic trope that really suits Batman. Features a Good Dad!Bruce who leans into the misconception that Batman is a cryptid because a)it's funny and b) it's convenient.

Take It Back Now, Y'all by Timthetoaster

(In which Tim finds himself in the past, and tries to do the right thing. It's more complicated than he'd like.)

Tim Drake being a bad-ass, accidental time travel, attempted fix-it. What's not to love?

Other

TAZ(Balance): All The Things You Prayed For by @anonymousalchemist and @marywhal

Taako is The Winter Soldier and Lup is Captain America AU

This is one of the best stories I've ever read, hands down. I've read it about four times *at least*. Even if you are not familiar with The Adventure Zone or The Winter Soldier (MCU), it's written so well that you can enjoy it without context.

TMA: The Magnus Institute vs the 21st Century: a series of emails and IMs by @shinyopals

What happens if the Magnus Institute gets a Data Protection Officer? What's it like to work in Tech Support? How are employee reviews conducted when your manager is Peter Lukas? This series does its best to answers these sorts of hard-hitting questions about office life at the Institute.

If you aren't familiar with The Magnus Archives it might be a bit hard to follow, but this epistolary fic has some of the best CSS coding and humor I've ever seen.

Anyway picking just a few was really difficult because I read a lot! I think every fic I've ever read has affected me in some way. But these are some of the ones most special to me. I hope you enjoy them!

#answered asks #I know this doesn't look like an ask but it is. in my heart.#fic recs #if anyone is tagged here who doesn't want to be let me know and I'll untag you <3 no questions asked #kiwwles #Batburger recs

163 notes · View notes

swervenation · 1 year

Text

Swerve x Human Liaison Reader

THIS was supposed to be a short list of headcanons to repay noted Swerve Enjoyer @i-starcreamed for all their writing. But. Um. This is actually part 1 of at least 3, and it’s already at ... 1,500 words. So, uh, below the readmore, my take on Swerve with a human liaison who starts out as distant and quiet.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / ?

Here’s a song that reminds me of this chapter, because I’m cringe and made a playlist :3

I've seen stories where the liaison is just kind of rescued and then given a job title to justify their presence on the ship, and while I love that, the "distant and quiet" part of this request is making me think of someone who sought out this position and takes it very seriously. You lay diplomatic groundwork with other organic species the Lost Light is expected to encounter on such-and-such pit stop before contact. On occasions when some organics are rescued, you're in charge of hospitality. Even though you're vastly different from those species biologically, you're a great help facilitating communication between them and the bots. It's not a very flashy job, but they're very grateful to have you on board. Rodimus knows their noble rescue efforts would be meaningless if you weren't around to ensure that his charges didn't die from neglect of some perplexing biological need, such as thirst or sleep. Magnus is certainly appreciative of your professionalism - a trait he hopes rubs off on the rest of the crew.

But you haven't really connected with any of the crew outside of your job. That's how you view this: as a job. It's a fantastic opportunity - you finally have the chance to study these fascinating life forms up close after years of reading and academic research. The last thing you would want to do is ruin that opportunity by unknowingly committing a social faux pas or becoming entangled in some drama. This isn't to say you don't desperately want to befriend them. You plan on doing so. One day. Once you've learned how to navigate these social situations perfectly, you'll finally talk with some of your crewmates.

However, you can almost always be found at Swerve's in the evening. There's an out of the way nook with a wide view of the place that you've claimed. There, you alternate between people-watching, working, and relaxing in the pleasant buzzing atmosphere of the bar. At first, some bots were curious about you, and would try to start up conversations. While you were certainly polite, you never really let such chat evolve into anything beyond small talk. Again - one day you'd make connections with them. Once you figured it all out. It didn't take long for everyone to forget about your presence - you just became part of the scenery.

Swerve himself helped set you up with this perfect spot. The first night, you sat on a seat built for Cybertronians. Not only was it ridiculously big, but you were almost accidentally crushed by Whirl within a minute of arriving. Swerve got you to safety before your brush with death even registered with you. One second, he was behind the bar, the next, he had swiped you out of the way of Whirl's lethally pointy aft. (Suddenly finding yourself held like a football (American) in the crook of his arm distracted you from noticing the spilt engex and shattered glasses he left in his wake when he leapt, to the best of his ability, over the bar at the first hint of danger. Even though you would have found his reckless concern for you moving, he would be very relieved to know that you didn't see any of that.) Before even giving you his name, he quickly escorted you to a quieter corner of the room and motioned towards a well-lit recess in the wall relatively close to the bar. It had a nice view of the whole establishment, and was positioned a few feet above the average bot's height - your view wasn't blocked, and being above eye-level, you were out-of-sight out-of-mind for most bargoers. For your people-watching purposes, it was perfect. There was already a table and two chairs there already.

"The organic suite," he explained. "Some of your guests stop by here from time to time - I set it up for those of them whose idea of a good night out doesn't involve being crushed to death."

You thanked him with a beaming smile and introduced yourself as the human liaison.

"I know," he remarked casually, forgetting for a moment how such an exchange was supposed to go. "I mean - it's very nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Swerve! Welcome to, uh, Swerve's." He held out a servo for you to shake, which you did, gratefully. Such human gestures were uncommon on this ship. As soon as you wrapped your hand around two of his digits, and his knuckles carefully cupped your palm, a small jolt of static electricity ran up your arm, causing you to flinch slightly. This wasn't unnoted by your host, whose concerned reaction, to your estimation, suggested that such a startle was a misstep. When you gave his metal hand two business-like pumps, it moved responded in the most limp-fish handshake way a robot possibly could, as though he feared he might damage you with the slightest move.

You thanked him again and he had Ten lift you up to your booth. Not only was the "organic suite" practical, but it was surprisingly clean and well lit. You got to jotting down your notes for today and unexpectedly, Ten returned a few minutes later with some water and the dish that, out of the limited fare available to you on the Lost Light, had always been your favorite. In all the excitement, you had completely forgotten about dinner - you assumed it must have been sent here instead of your room when you weren't found there. It would arrive at the same time every night from then on out.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the bargoers, you took a deep interest in the social life unfolding around you. You intended to learn Cybertronian culture, manners, and friendships inside and out before attempting to actually engage with them. You had been kicking yourself this whole time about your shocked reaction to a twinge of electricity when you shook Swerve's hand earlier. They're robots for God's sake! That's like being shocked that a human's hand was warm! You couldn't let yourself blunder like that again until you were positive nothing would surprise you. In the meantime, you delighted in the gossip you overheard from your nook. You developed one-sided attachments to some of its key players, as though they were characters in a book.

The most reliable source of gossip is, of course, your bartender. You had barely spoken to him since that first encounter - you would just smile and nod at each other when you arrived like clockwork at the same time each night and ascended the spiral staircase Ten fashioned for you. Nonetheless, you found yourself gravitating towards him. He was loud enough that you could hear him clearly from your spot in the bar (even when he was speaking on more confidential matters), and his voice was distinct enough that you could always pick it out. That voice was quicker and a little higher-pitched than the others, but what stood out most was its delivery. He had a way of punctuating a joke, weaving in suspense, describing even his most mundane observations so colorfully that it took effort to shift your focus elsewhere once he caught your ear.

As time went on, you found that you cared a lot more about what the other bots were doing when you heard it from his mouth. It was like he was getting better and better at storytelling every night, and he never ran out of material. Even his bartending improved - he mixed drinks with a confident smoothness and the increasingly common flourish. As he spoke, he would flip glasses, bottles, etc. around in his hand, and would sometimes toss a shaker behind his back while mixing. It was like a new glow had started to settle on his face. You would try to research what the new slight blue tint to his face meant, but couldn't find any certain answers in your reference materials.

You didn't notice how much of your attention he captured until one night, your eye thoughtlessly drifted from your favorite bot down the bar. You jumped in your seat when you found Cyclonus's supicious red eyes trained on you - one of his brows was raised, as though he were trying to parse at whom and why you'd been staring for so long. You broke eye contact quickly and mentally started kicking yourself. What must he be thinking? That your silent observation implied scheming, or that it was simply very weird? This made you consider your own motives and choices. It did seem rather creepy - and your quick, guilty reaction certainly didn't prove your innocence. It finally hit you how strange your behavior was. What were you thinking? Instead of reflecting on your motives, you decided it would be best to spend some time away from Swerve's.

#mtmte #x reader #swerve #swerve x reader #??? how do i tag this umm #my stuff #tf x reader #mtmte x reader #lost light x reader #????#transformers x reader

99 notes · View notes

eyeopeningarchivist · 8 months

Text

Statement of Phoebe Morris

Concerning: The disappearance of her wedding planner.

Statement Taken: August 20th, 2013

Statement Recorded by Martin Blackwood, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement Begins:

This happened just a little over a week ago and I'm... still struggling to comprehend it. Michelle and I had wanted to get married for quite some time. We just couldn't decide on when and where. She wanted to go somewhere expensive, extravagant, and grandiose but I wanted something more low-key. Something intimate and quiet. The only thing we could agree on was that we wanted to do it in another country. It was her idea to find a wedding planner and that led us to Philo Newcomb.

I... had mixed feelings about Newcomb from the beginning, honestly. He always seemed... I dunno, preppy? Eager? Overly friendly somehow. And I just wasn't quite sure he knew what he was talking about. I wasn't sure how you could make beige look garish and loud but his suit managed it and the ideas he had for how our wedding should look didn't sound much better but Michelle seemed to like him and he at least seemed friendly. It helped that the location he was trying to sell us seemed gorgeous. It was a massive estate in Mendoza, Argentina with a beautiful sunset view over the balcony. It was apparently owned by some local big shot lawyer in the area or something and Newcomb had been nice enough to pay for our tickets himself. So, I was split.

But then... he showed up. Philo was leading us down to the vineyard when a man in a security uniform stopped me. He was a rather large, bald man with a stoic expression on his face. His whole head seemed completely clean-shaven, not even a spec of stubble anywhere. And I remember his badge said "Tobias Rieper." He said "I think you should look at this" in an even tone and shoved a scrapbook into my hands. It contained... locks of hair... and pictures of corpses and... newspaper clippings of mourning brides and grooms over the course of decades. And on the very last page was a picture of Michelle and I on a date, with Philo's face crudely taped over mine. By the time I looked up, Tobias Rieper had already left.

I got Michelle out of there as fast as I could. I made some excuse about getting the flight bookings wrong and all but dragged her out of there. I-I didn't even explain anything until we got back to the hotel. I didn't even think to call anyone at first. Not until a few hours after we got back to our rooms. When I did pick up the phone, Michelle turned my attention to the tv. Philo Newcomb had been found dead at the estate. Having fallen over the railing from the top floor. With no suspects, police ruled his death an accident.

Michelle and I haven't discussed getting married since. We... need time. But, I thought that was it. That this was just a horrifying situation that we just barely got out of thanks to some help from a stranger. I didn't think there was anything supernatural about it. Until I tried to thank Tobias Rieper for his help.

From what I could find, there is no record of anyone by the name of "Tobias Rieper" working at that estate. Not as security, as wait staff, nothing. So I looked him up online. I got a ton of results online. A corporate liquidator from New York. An all star chef from France. But nothing about our mysterious security guard. But as I kept digging, I saw a pattern. There were never any photographs of him, but sometimes there were... stories attached. Stories about people meeting a mysterious stone faced, completely bald man named Tobias Rieper on the same day as a mysterious disappearance and never finding him again. Meeting a talented rock drummer the same day a famous rock star gets shot. Meeting a stone faced mechanic the same day as the grand prix accident. The name and face is always the same. The only thing that changes is the clothes. Like a mannequin trying on a new suit.

Statement ends.

Notes:

We tried to look up this Tobias Rieper as well and, well, we found just as much as is mentioned in the statement. Tim did, however, manage to dig up the lowest possible quality photograph of someone who matches the description of Mr. Rieper, only this man is labeled as “Lutte Faucheur,” an ex accountant from around the Bordeaux region who was let go from his firm after claiming to have “Visions From God...” Something about his eyes in the photo... He looks tired...

As for the mentioned events, we looked into them just to make sure they all lined up and they do, the only detail missing being that Philo Newcomb’s death was ruled by the Argentinian... Argentine? Er, the police in Argentina said they figured he was drunk when he fell. No autopsy report was filed but given the nature of his death and the fact that it happened where it did, well, I guess they just put two and two together...

For what it’s worth, both "Lutte" and "Faucheur" are words in french... Lutte meaning "Struggle” and Faucheur meaning "Reaper..."

End recording.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #@autisticsupervillain

9 notes · View notes

barry-j-blupjeans · 2 years

Note

14 from the song prompts with whoever you'd like (something something, I haven't died yet) please!

14. “Please don’t get morbid” “Right” “It’s just that I haven’t died yet”

((song prompts here - still accepting!!))

The windchime above Magnus's porch clicked and tinked together, creating a patternless, calm collection of notes. Magnus himself is sitting out, buried under three blankets and his winter coat to keep warm. The snow is still falling and it's nearly late enough for the kids to start going to bed, but Magnus is excited to help build snowmen tomorrow.

The wind picked up a bit as the front door opened and Magnus turned to see Angus holding open the door for Lucretia, who wheeled herself out. It's not the wheelchair Magnus had originally carved- Lucretia's daily chair went through too much wear and tear to be used all the time- but the pattern is reminiscent. When she's through the doorway, Angus dipped back inside, shutting the door behind him.

Lucretia steered herself over to sit next to him and they stay that way for a while, watching the snow collect over Magnus's empty garden. Someone had left a frisbee on the path up to the house and it was slowly getting more and more snow-covered. The wind settles with another small song from the windchime.

Eventually, Lucretia spoke.

"I'm told..." she cleared her throat. "I'm told this will be your last candlenights."

Magnus hummed a little note of acknowledgment, nodding his head. They weren't supposed to have told him, but it had gotten to a point where Barry couldn't look him in the eye without looking so damn depressed and Magnus had weaseled it out of him.

"Yeah," Magnus said. "It will be."

"Are you..." Lucretia paused as if trying to find the right words. "Are you scared about it? Being the last time, that is. That there won't really be a- a reset for you, after this."

Magnus took a second to mull over her words, rocking himself back and fourth in the chair. There's an explosion of laughter from inside and he smiled despite himself.

"No," Magnus said. "No, I... I think I grew out of fearing death right about the time Taako started dating him." Lucretia let out a little huff of laughter and Magnus's smile stretched into a grin. "Seriously, though. I'm- I'm ready, I think. I don't know what's waiting for me after death, but I know who. I think that's about all the comfort I need."

Lucretia nodded, seemingly satysfied with that answer, and Magnus took a moment to look her over. She had grown her hair out after Story and Song, but she had confided in him once that she was tempted to buzz it all over again, just to avoid the work. Magnus had never been good at keeping secrets so before the end of the week, he found Lup and Lucretia on the couch, Lup slowly going through and redoing all of Lucretia's locks. Since then, he'd happened upon just about anyone doing the same.

The white hair looked had always looked good on her, but Magnus thought he pulled it off just as well. Though his was more gray than white in some parts. His hands were a mess of scars, both from fighting and from carving. He had a tremor in them now that made it much harder to do either of those things, but that didn't stop him from trying. This year, he had made everyone a little statue of their favorite animals. They weren't nearly up to the quality they had once been, but no one had seemed to mind.

"Please don't get- get morbid or, super sad," Magnus said. "If you can."

Lucretia snorted, raising her eyebrows. "Right."

"It's just like- I haven't died yet. Y'know? And I know you tend to get sort of, uhm. Reclusive when you're sad."

"That's a nice way of putting it," Lucretia said, smiling. "But I get it. Thank you. I'll- I'll try my best, Magnus."

"That's all I can ask of you, at this point," he said.

They lapsed back into silence, staring out over the yard. The magnolia tree he had planted when he first moved back here, to Raven's Roost, was branching and large. A layer of snow had settled against the branches that could afford to hold its weight. He'd get to see it bloom again, at least. One last time.

The chatter from insider was slowly growing quieter and the snow piling up on the ground was slowly growing taller. He passed one of his blankets to Lucretia, who wrapped it around her shoulders. She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. He brought the rocking to a complete stop to support her.

"It shouldn't be too long for me now, either," Lucretia said quietly. "Wanna take a bet on how long I'll last?"

"Probably longer than you should, knowing you," Magnus said and Lucretia laughed, her voice a little wet.

"Probably," she said. "Gives me time to get my affairs in order, at least."

"If you annoy Barry too much he might tell you," Magnus offered and Lucretia laughed again, a bit brighter.

"I'll give that a try," she said. "I... Magnus, if I don't get the chance to say this again before... before you die, I just want to say it now. You have really changed my life. For the better and for the worse, a little. I... I know I haven't always been the best friend I could be but I think I got it right where it counts. I hope you realize that we all love you so, so much. I couldn't- I can't imagine life without you at this point. But I know you're going to be so incredibly happy when the time comes that I'm going to be happy right along with you.

You-" Lucretia chuckled, a little breathless. "You deserve your happy ending, Magnus. And I'm glad you're finally going to get it."

Magnus sniffed, wiping a few tears from his eyes.

"You're gonna make my face freeze, Luce," he said and Lucretia grinned, squeezing his arm.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

#magnus burnsides #lucretia #taz #taz balance #mine #asks #noodyl-blasstal #ise cube writing #long post #im Going Through It rn sldfksdfs #so here's some melancholy thoughts

55 notes · View notes

yeehawbvby · 1 month

Text

Falling Away With You | Ch. 49

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Time to use The Shrine(tm)

Author’s Note: n/a

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

Shane was right. I was about to cry. As soon as I stepped outside the tears started falling. I had planned to go grab some groceries from Pierre’s and visit Robin to ask a few questions about installing barns and whatnot, but instead I just went to Cindersap and wandered around until I could calm down enough to face anyone again.

In the moment, assaulting a bootlicking Joja cog with some coffee and sass felt so freeing. Afterwards… I can’t help but think, why did I do that? I’ve never really snapped at anyone before, and the first time I do it’s a total stranger? Even if he is a dick, and even if maybe he did deserve it for whatever reason, I still can’t help but feel guilty.

Don’t even know if I’ll ever be able to face Morris again. I guess I won’t be visiting Sam there anymore.

As I pad through the crunchy fallen leaves, sniffling up a storm between sips of coffee due to the emotions and chilly air, I just try to focus on what’s ahead in an attempt to relax a bit.

Like, Spirit’s Eve is gonna be a blast. I’ve got that going for me at least. I’ll have a chance to meet that shadow person Magnus is friends with too. I absentmindedly gain a little pep in my step as I remember that Seb’s and Magnus’ birthday are both in the coming months. I wonder if they’ll want to do anything special.

I check my phone and see a wall of texts from Sam:

Sam > HEY. I snuck out for a bathroom break bc omg Sam > u were so real for that Sam > like holy crud. I’ve always wanted to give morris even a *little* bit of shit and u just did it ur first time meeting the guy

There are a few more messages, all exclaiming about how awesome he thinks I am. It’s just as endearing as it is embarrassing.

I quickly reply to lie and say it wasn’t a big deal and that it’s whatever and that I’m fine, not-lie to promise him we’ll hang out for real soon, and apologize for his lack of a coffee. I then decide to go to Magnus’ a bit early. Maybe he and Seb can distract my nerves, and if not I can at least fill them in on what happened.

I begin nearing Tony Remington Trash Bear. Haven’t seen this fella in ages. He notices me and sniffs in my direction while chewing today’s dish. Looks like a stuffed pumpkin… where does he get these things?

I wave at him, and wonder — now knowing he’s an elemental — if he can communicate with me.

As far as I can tell, though, there’s not a single thought besides his next meal behind those eyes. Good for him, if true!

I slow down and try to speak to him, tentatively holding out my cup. “Uh… I don’t know if you understand me, but d-do you want some coffee?” He glimpses at the cup and I add, “I’ve had, like, half, and it’s cold now, but…” followed by a very meek shrug.

Tony sniffs a little louder and turns away.

“Oh. Sorry.” Guess he doesn’t like coffee.

I take a few more steps. He looks at me again. I stop again, and stare back for a moment before waving.

He waves back oh my fucking god before turning back to his food.

Yoba, Spirits, whoever, what ever, please let this be a sign that today can turn up from here.

My pace becomes brisk as I try to make it to Magnus’ tower faster. I’ve gotta tell him and Seb that there’s a slim chance I actually can communicate with animals, even if they can’t communicate back in a way I can understand.

I wonder if I can learn that. Like, animal-speaking potions or spells have to be a real thing, no?

And, like, with Cannoli, I assumed he could roughly get the gist of whatever I say because out bond. What if I’ve actually been talking to him in a way he can comprehend for months now?

…What if I can, like, translate frogs for Seb someday?

Oh.

Oh my fuck—

I feel giddy at the thought and do a little shimmy to work out my energy. I know if I start jogging in lieu that I’ll probably just trip on a fallen branch or acorn or something — the ground is too covered in leaves for me to see what’s beneath them, save for a few long weeds.

I make it to the tower quicker than I’d anticipated. Outside the door I stomp some mud off my boots, and while stepping in, I hear hushed speaking from the main room. I don’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt if something is important going on. Quietly so as to not disturb them, I remove my coat and shoes and pad through the doorway, sipping my sweet drink.

I stop in my tracks and nearly choke on the coffee at the view before me:

Magnus and Seb are facing each other, their bodies parallel to the side walls and nearest the far end of the cauldron. I can see some of Seb’s face and all of Magnus’.

Seb got his ears pierced! The red studs — I guess they were safe to use, after all — are just barely visible from my view, resting above his gauges. Not sure about the other ear, but he has crossed industrials on this one as well now.

Now, I can’t tell if his ears are pink from swelling or from blush, but it could be both, given how closely Magnus is observing him. Magnus’ hand is tilting Seb’s face up, and he’s heavily inspecting his piercings with a slight flush on his own cheeks, as well as rosy eyes. Only god knows if it’s because of the contact he’s engaging in, or because of how much cooler Seb looks with his new jewelry.

As Magnus tilts Seb the other way, I’m at first ready to assume that Seb did get a few piercings on his other ear too, until I see Magnus practically cupping the younger man’s face. His lips are slightly curled upward and moving but I can barely hear a word he’s saying. The only sound that registers in my ears is the smooth, bassy reverberation of his baritone voice. A breathy laugh comes from Seb in response.

My heart stutters at the thought that they’re, like, gonna fucking kiss or something, until Magnus drop’s his hands, crossing them against his ribs. It’s only as Seb mimics the motion that I notice they’re both wearing black sweaters, both with their sleeves rolled to their elbows.

A Sebastian cosplay convention.

SebbyCon… SebCon? SebastiCon???

No. Shut up.

I make my presence a little more known as I clear my throat and approach my partners, unable to contain the shit-eating grin plastered on my face. Magnus looks over and smiles wide at my presence, seemingly oblivious to how ~scandalous~ that interaction appeared. Seb turns to do the same, more focused on giving me his own silly, smug look.

Whoa. On the ear opposite from the one I had a slight view of, Seb has a triple helix now, as well as a fucking nose piercing, all alongside his red lobe piercing. I can’t hide how frickin’ stoked I am for these, god he pulls it all off so well!

Ignoring their hellos, I scurry closer, my eyes and smile wide as I place my cup on the counter nearby to take Seb’s face in my hands, basically doing the same thing Magnus just did.

“Holy shit, dude!”

“You like ‘em?” he laughs.

I reposition Seb so he’s got no choice but to look directly at me. “I feel feral.”

“Oh my,” Magnus laughs while he observes us.

Still holding Seb’s face, I turn to look at and giggle with the elemental.

Seb brings my attention back by placing a hand on mine and using the other to draw my face to his, dipping down for a quick smooch amidst his smiling. “You’re here early. I just showed up a few minutes ago.”

I nod, pressing my forehead to Seb’s chest and wrapping my arms around him. As he hugs back, I explain, “Rough day.”

Drawing nearer to place a hand against my spine, right above Seb’s hands, Magnus asks, “Did your plans to visit Samson fall through?”

I chuckle, muttering quietly about how formal and old he sounds, and give Seb an extra little squeeze before turning to hug Magnus. “No, I saw him,” I mutter as his arms envelop me. “I, uh,” I press my cheek to Magnus and to get a better view of Seb, “I poured coffee on his boss.”

“What?!” Magnus says, his voice sounding awfully incredulous, albeit amused. The shock is deserved, to be fair. Again. Never really done something like that.

Seb, as I had hoped and predicted, looks so goddamn proud of me. “Deliberately?” I nod. “Holy shit, you badass!”

“Y’know,” I observe, “people keep saying that, but I cried about it the second I stepped out of the store.”

Magnus’ hug tightens so I turn back to him, nuzzling my face into his torso as Seb asks, “Why’d you do it?”

“He was being a dick to Sam,” it’s hard to talk like this so I release myself, standing off to the side to form a little triangle between the three of us, “aaand he scolded me for having my own lil’ treat in the store with me.” I fidget my sleeves while nodding over to the coffee cup on the counter. “That was supposed to be for Sam, I was just holding it for him until Morris left, but…” I shrug.

“Arsehole...”

“Oh yeah,” Seb agrees with Magnus, “the dude sucks. I never really see Sam on the clock anymore just to avoid him.”

“We’ve gotta get him out of there,” I mutter, making my way back to the coffee. I chug the rest before tossing it in the bin nearby.

In the meantime, Seb counters, “Dude’s stuck. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Bummer…”

“Mm,” Magnus simply hums. He barely knows who Sam is, this is probably uncomfy for him.

I meet the taller man’s eyes. “Shrine?”

“Of course.”

Magnus and I start making our way across the room, but I stop when I notice that Seb isn’t following. I turn around and notice that he already has a book in hand. “You coming?”

“Nah,” he responds, seeming to search for a certain page in particular. “I’ll be fucking with some potions while you do that.”

“Boooo,” I pout. He tosses up a middle finger with a playful glare, and I throw the gesture right back. “If I don’t, like, die, I guess I’ll see you when I’m not a human anymore,” I add on.

“You better not die on me now.”

“No promises!” I announce as I make my way over to Magnus, who’s patiently waiting by the doorway.

His nose scrunches and brows furrow while he grins, as though he’s holding back a laugh, but I don’t mind the scrutiny; I’m too busy admiring the way his crow’s feet deepen, complementing the sparkle in his burgundy eyes.

Maybe it’s the spirits doing their thing again, but I can’t help but notice how happy and full of love I feel with Magnus and Seb around… how happy they seem with me, and even each other.

Not to be a huge sap or anything, but life is so fucking beautiful, sometimes.

“You won’t die, my heart,” he reassures me, breaking me from my train of thought.

As we make our way downstairs I ask half-jokingly, freeing myself from my stupor, “So I’ll just be horribly mangled if I don’t do things right?”

“Well…”

I look at Magnus. He’s chewing the inside of his cheek and avoiding my gaze.

Sighing, I nod. “Good to know.”

“You’re an incredible sorceress, dear. You’ll likely be just fine.”

“If I don’t fuck up, sure.”

“It’ll be alright, I can almost guarantee it.” As we near the shrine, Magnus turns to me and walks backwards for a few steps, “Besides, just think of the results!”

I experience a fucking war flashback as I remember him having a similar outlook on that potion he made me when we were in our early days of knowing each other. The one that had me keeled over in pain on the ground within seconds.

“This feels familiar…” I mumble, hoping that the scene is projecting into his mind. Based on his lack of a response as he sifts through a tome, I’m assuming it didn’t work.

When his attention is back on me, he nears my side, giving me a run-down as he magically highlights certain parts of the page he has open. I cozy myself into his side, nodding along while I try to keep up. Without halting, he wraps his corresponding arm around me, leaning into my touch.

He really is a wonderful teacher, but sometimes he goes so quickly. I get that it’s just the excitement fueling his speed though. More often than not he bears in mind that, although I fucking rock at this, apparently, it’s still kinda new to me.

After asking him to reiterate a few things — including what types of beings I can become with this thing, none of which include things with horns or tails, god damnit! — before I memorize the few lines of spell I’m to perform and step over to the center of the emblem on the floor.

Before I begin, I ask, “Wait, when you use this you like… hover, yeah?” Magnus nods. “Is it okay that I can’t do that? Do you think it’ll effect things?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, “You’ll be fine on your feet. Or your butt, or knees, or whatever you prefer, really.”

“Alright,” I sit on the ground, crossing my legs and resting my antsy hands against my thighs. “Here goes nothing.”

I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable reciting incantations in front of people, so I whisper it to myself, as I hear Magnus crossing the room — I assume to sit down and read or something, similarly to how I did during his transformation all that time ago — before patiently waiting for the process to take effect.

Once I get the ball rolling, everything starts to feel weird. I feel tingly, mana exuding from every pore of my body. I keep my eyes shut so as to concentrate on the image of what I want to become more effectively, but can still see the faint illumination of an arcane light show through my closed lids.

I’m not sure how much time passes like this. I wind up in sort of a trance-like state at some point; somewhere between being incredibly conscious of the weird sensations coursing through me, and oblivious to the fact that I even exist in my own body. It’s only whenever I stop feeling anything beyond the floor below my ass and my hands on my thighs that I realize the process must be done.

I open my eyes slowly. They widen as I notice first the change in my clothes, then in skin color. It all looks eerily similar to what I’d racked my brain with, and I guess that’s the point, but it still startles me a bit.

I turn my palms up and around, admiring the dusty pink tint of my skin, and the way it almost shimmers with an otherworldly pearlescence under the dim glow of the basement’s lighting.

I take in the deep obsidian of my new pants — made of something soft and silky, with a high and cinched waist to counter the bagginess everywhere else — as I extend a leg outward, tracing the intricate details of the silver embroidery that climb the outer hems.

My top is also very loose, but tucked into the corset-like belt of my bottoms. It’s black; has a soft, sort of cottony in feel; and it’s void of any detail, aside from the wavy edges of its three-quarter sleeves.

I reach my hands to my ears, which are now slightly longer and pointy, then slide my digits through my hair, which feels softer than ever. It’s thick, pin-straight, and long, reaching down to my lower back. I bring a section of it over my shoulder, observing the silvery gray it’s become.

My same earrings are in, at least from what I can feel. Similarly, my necklace from Welwick and ring from Magnus are safely on my person.

I didn’t expect the transformation to be this intense — I thought it would just change my colors around a bit, like how it did with Magnus. The clothes were wanted of course, but I didn’t think I could actually change them too. Was just feeling more hopeful about that than anything.

Damn.

I finally look up and to my left in search of Magnus. He’s sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other and a tome abandoned next to his lap while he awe-struckedly rakes his eyes up and down my new form, leaning up from his relaxed position.

I shoot him a big grin and his eyes widen a bit, the faint smile he had prior not leaving his face.

“The fangs were a lovely touch,” he quietly compliments.

Fangs?! “I didn’t even know I did those.” My gaze shifts to nothing in particular while I snarl a bit, tapping my tongue to my teeth. They’re situated like vampire fangs, which is lucky, considering I’m not sure I’d be safe if they’d filled my mouth. These babies are sharp.

I bring my attention back to my partner as he stands, and I meet him halfway. Still the same height as before, which is good. Won’t draw suspicion from anyone who lives around here.

“Is it normal for the shrine to take creative liberties like that sometimes?”

“Eh,” he shrugs. “This seems to happen more with a user who lacks experience — but if it chooses to trust you, it’ll never be an unwelcome transformation.”

I look back at the thing, shrug, and turn back.

“You’re incredible, (y/n),” Magnus grins, tilting my face up by the chin. “Did you mean to do this with your sclera as well?”

Oh hell yeah, it worked!

I answer triumphantly, “Damn right, I did.” It makes him giggle. Makes me giggle in turn. “What color are they now?” Did it work how I wanted it to?

Looking more at my eyes than into them, he mutters, “They match your trousers quite nicely,” Fuck yes, “and your irises are lavender.” Not what I was going for, but I’ll take it! “I must say, it’s strange to see you this way, but you’re ethereal nonetheless.”

“Think it’s too much for when I go to the above-ground event?”

He tilts his head and chews the inside of his cheek while he studies me, before ultimately shaking his head. “It simply looks like you’ve a knack for makeup.”

I begin playing with and staring at my new hair again. “Thank god, this is fucking sick.” I look back up at Magnus, fingers still fiddling with my tresses. I purse my lips, swaying a little as I shyly start, “Do I have to change back to—“

“Yes.”

“Fuck!”

He laughs, holding out a hand for me to take. “I assume you want to present your new form to Sebastian, yes?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go.”

I grab his hand and we make our way out of the room. Gazing at our inhuman skin tones locked together, I begin to feel a little self conscious. I’m probably overthinking, but I can’t stop the feeling from gnawing at me.

“Uh…” I start, suddenly feeling kinda shy.

Magnus slows down a bit, seeming to sense my worries. That, or he read them already, but he hasn’t said anything so I can only assume he’s trying not to.

“Do you… ever wish that I was an elemental too?”

He slows us to a halt and I shift my vision to meet his own. The wizard looks as calm as ever, if not just a little more concerned than usual. “Of course not, my heart,” he turns to face me. “In fact, if you were one, the spirits may have never fated us together in the first place.”

That’s right, he did mention the whole soulmates thing being in favor of an elemental and human pairing.

I nod, accepting the answer. I still feel a little weird knowing that maybe I’m more (or less, maybe?) attractive this way, but it’s not like I’m a whole new body shape or anything, so I try not to think much of it. There’s no point to it, this is only for special occasions, after all.

“I love you,” he tacks on cheerily, as if to remind me.

Fucking dork.

“I love you too. Sorry.”

Magnus huffs out a laugh. “Why are you apologizing?!”

“I dunno!” I join his chuckles, shaking my head. Never claimed that I’m not a dork too. “Just feels childish to ask you stuff like that, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“It’s only natural such an immense change in your appearance would cause some unease.”

“I guess…”

He does have a point. It’s almost the same feeling as when you don’t wear as much makeup as usual, and someone comments on how sick and tired you look, regardless of your wellbeing; or when you gain or lose a noticeable amount of weight, and people make comments on how much “livelier” or “happier” or “better” you look, regardless of how good the change actually was for your health…

Except I’m doing it to myself instead, like a dummy.

And I haven’t even seen myself yet.

Magnus did nothing to indicate if he likes this change more or less than my original appearance. I’m sure Seb won’t either. He’ll probably just be excited to have a temporary elf girlfriend.

They both love me as I am.

I’ve gotta chill.

Ugh.

Okay. I’m good, I think. Enough spiraling.

I look up at Magnus, who’s patiently awaiting my next move. I wonder if he heard me get lost in my head for a moment there. If he did, he doesn’t say anything about it. I offer a soft smile which he reciprocates before giving my hand a squeeze.

“Are you alright, my heart?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “let’s go.”

When Magnus and I arrive upstairs, we’re hit with a strong smell of marijuana. Seb rarely smokes here. Magnus banned cigarettes — dude hates the smell — but weed is fair game, so Seb brings it out sometimes if he’s extra stressed. Not often, but it does happen.

Must be going through it right now.

Rounding the corner, I see Seb leaning with his palms flat on the nearest countertop, with a tome opened in front of him. Around him are haphazardly placed vials and ingredients. A blunt is lazily hanging from his mouth, and the cauldron is draining behind him, as he mutters the words he reads under his breath with nearly closed lips.

“You good?”

Startled, Seb looks up. His eyes widen at my new appearance and the blunt falls from his mouth. He catches it before it can land anywhere though.

“Oof,” I add casually, “Nice save.”

“Nice, uh…”

He pauses to stare for a moment, leaving the blunt hanging between two fingers like a cigarette. I gnaw my bottom lip and shift around on my feet. His intense scrutiny is flustering me.

“Hah.” Seb rubs his eyes with the digits of his free hand, then keeps them shut with his fingertips against his lids as he continues, “Can’t think of anything witty for a response.”

His cheeks are obstructed by his large hand, but the tips of his ears are a little pink. I glimpse up at Magnus, who has a faint smile on his lips as he watches Seb’s struggle.

“I didn’t expect this, holy fuck,” the emo speaks up.

“Think it’s too much?” I shyly murmur, using my hair as a fidget again.

“God, no.” He looks up at Magnus. Then at me. Then at Magnus again, and back to me, before putting his attention back onto the book. Through a puff of smoke he mumbles, “I’ve never felt so lame in my life.”

Magnus is quick to try to halt Seb’s negative self-talk with a practical solution. “You’re more than welcome to give the shrine a whirl once you’re ready.”

“Yoba knows how long that’ll take.” Sebastian flicks the page below him. “Can’t even follow the directions laid out in front of me without messing something up.”

I nod towards Seb’s blunt, eyeing it as he puts it back between his lips. “Is that not helping as much as you wanted?” I wonder.

Seb sighs, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s helping plenty. I was ready to tear my fucking hair out before.”

“Is there anything I can assist with?” Magnus interjects.

Another head shake from Seb. “No, I wanna do this on my own.”

“At least allow me to speed this up for you,” the older wizard states more than he asks, heading to the cauldron.

Seb turns back and nods. “Thanks, dude.” I catch how his eyes rake up and down Magnus’ body before he turns back to me and does the same. “God,” he whispers, his lashes fluttering as he subtly rolls his eyes back. Then, he rummages in the nearby cabinets for some more stuff.

I snort. “Stressed ‘god,’ or…?” I trail off quietly.

Not sure how keen he is on Magnus knowing what gets him going, regardless of how sexually open we’ve been in conversation.

Seb tilts his head up and deadpans me. I waggle my eyebrows. He gets the gist. He nods.

“Both, then?” I confirm.

He sighs, producing a mortar and pestle. Then, he responds while he places some leaves into the thing and begins grinding ‘em down.

“Both, yeah.”

6 notes · View notes

steamberrystudio · 2 years

Note

Hi there! Congrats on the new game! I adored Changeling, so I am excited for this. 💜 If you don’t mind me asking— my favorite route in Changeling was Danny’s. Can you tell me which LI is closest to him personality wise in GS? Thank you so much!

Probably Reuben and/or Lance....though Reuben is not released yet.

But here is a short list with what personalities are like (in most cases I feel like it's difficult to do a 1:1 comparison with GS characters and Changeling characters because GS characters are adults, most of whom have deal with a lot of difficult situations that have impacted their personalities in profound ways. But I'll try to compare them all.

Ari - logical and no nonsense, but very gentle. Softens up and learns to show more emotion as the route goes on. (There really isn't a remotely close comparison to Changeling but I guess if I had to make one, I'd say he's closest to William though they're quite different.)

Caissa - cold at first but actually very soft and very much a romantic at heart. Deeply cares for people. (Weirdly, I would say he feels like a bizarre cross between Ewan...and Danny? 🤣 )

Caleb - Grump. But very loyal to his friends. No-nonsense personality. Roasts people as a form of affection. (Very different from Marc or Ewan but definitely has that banter-dynamic and bluntness.)

Jack - Has the charming rogue sort of vibe and is flirty, but surprisingly sweet and caring. (....🤔 I don't know about a comparison. Maybe he's like a super confident version of Elliot?? 🤣🤣)

Lance - Wholesome, devastatingly kind, pacifistic. A natural care-taker. (Closest comparison is probably Danny but they're quite different too.)

Magnus - He's a smug troll who likes to provoke people. Two-faced, hides his "true self" from people. ...Very broken. (Closest comparison is definitely Corvin. But he's like Dark!Corvin. They have similar vibes but are also very, very different)

NOTE: The following three routes are unreleased and personalities nearly always shift as I write. This is how I currently view them but their personalities may present a little differently when I actually write their routes.

Quill - Pragmatic, very straightforward, shockingly altruistic, likes to tease. (Probably closest to Marc or Ewan but is far more amiable than either one of them, really. Has Nora's coffee-drinking habits)

Reuben - Sweet, earnest, boy-next-door type. Somewhat easy to fluster. (Closest to Danny for sure. Like a more mature Danny I suppose?)

Yuu - Snarky, very no-nonsense, quick tempered (very), and horrifyingly blunt at times. Likes to tease people he knows well. Can be very flirty when not working. (There's really not even a remotely close comparison to a Changeling character, I don't think).

Anyway, hope this helps for anyone wondering this same thing!

#gilded shadows #changeling #character comparison

46 notes · View notes

smileygoth · 1 year

Text

30. Hope Dies Last (Vamptober 2022)

Find the full list of chapters here.

Can't believe I'm still trying to finish this :( Almost there now! Jazz is subjected to an education at the hands of the Sabbat.

CW: Torture, violence, blood, mutilation, all that Tzimicse stuff. (And I still can't decide if I'm spelling 'Tzimicse' correctly ...)

Word Count: 2,268 words.

Image found on Pinterest - not sure where it came from, if anyone knows please let me know so I can credit it properly.

The cell they threw her into was dark and damp - not much more than a basement alcove with a grate across it. By the time she was flung into it she had been beaten to within an inch of her unlife, so that after her vampiric blood had healed her she was ravenously hungry. She curled up in a corner, too exhausted and miserable to cry, and waited for dawn.

The next night she was hauled out in front of Quinn. The priest looked her up and down, noted the rips and tears in her clothes and the dirt in her hair, and nodded. "It is always amazing to me," she said, "That anyone would even think of betraying this sect. Even if they do not feel the joy of its loyalty and devotion to its members, they surely should know what the prize is for betrayal. And yet here I am, looking at you in this pitiable state, seeing even now a spark of hope in your eyes."

Jazz cast her eyes to the floor. She didn't feel hopeful. She felt empty.

Quinn nodded to Carl and Magnus, who were holding Jazz by her arms. "See if you can beat that spark out of her. Then throw her back in."

Jazz gritted her teeth and glared at Quinn as she was dragged back down to the basement. "Fuck you," she spat. Quinn only smiled.

There's the hope she was talking about, the Voice whispered in Jazz's ear. Defiance. No reason to be defiant if you don't hope for something. If you want to save yourself some pain, kid, you'll knock that off. Let them see you crumple.

"Fuck you too," Jazz remarked.

Carl, thinking she was talking to them, delivered a stinging slap to her cheek. "Enough of your lip, bitch," he growled.

See? the Voice said smugly.

Jazz remained silent.

The second beating was worse than the first. When it ended. Jazz was deposited into her cell with both her legs broken and one arm painfully dislocated. She could feel her ribs jabbing into her lungs. One eye was swollen shut and she could taste her own blood on her lips. Her body tried to heal, but she was already hungry. The bones knitted, but her eye stayed shut and her arm did not pull back into place. She considered forcing it by ramming her shoulder against the wall, but the idea made her feel sick and dizzy.

On the third night she was so hungry she found herself clawing at the dirt floor in frustration. She waited to be pulled out and beaten again, but it didn't happen. Instead, only one person came to her cell; someone completely unexpected. They were clad in a simple white three piece suit this time, but there was no mistaking the exaggerated curves and the alien face of the Tzimicse who had performed at the Sabbat gathering.

Jazz searched her memory for the name. "Carina," she said.

Carina smiled. "You remember me."

"You're not easy to forget."

"Yes, so I'm told." Carina stopped a foot or so away from the bars and looked in at her. "So you're the little troublemaker. One of them, at least. You don't look like you'd pose much trouble to me."

"Say that again when I'm not beaten to shit and hungry," Jazz retorted.

Carina smiled. "That arm looks painful. I could fix that, you know."

"No thanks," Jazz replied.

Carina gave a careless shrug. "As you wish. At any rate, I'm not here to play nursemaid."

"Why are you here?"

"To talk." Carina fixed her with her bright, catlike eyes. "To help you to understand that all your suffering is down to one thing. And that if you embrace the teachings of the Sabbat, we can help you let go of that one thing and find some semblance of peace in your existence."

"And what is this 'one thing'?" Jazz asked.

"Your humanity."

Jazz started to laugh, a cracked, humourless laugh. "Of course."

"You cling to it because it's all you've ever known," Carina went on. "I understand. I was once the same. It took my sire a long, long time to help me overcome it and fully accept that I was no longer human - and so no longer bound to human morality and law. When you accept this, the Sabbat's ways will not seem so brutal and savage to you. You will see the greater meaning behind all we do. You will understand our purpose and our conviction. Let me help you, Jazz."

"Help me turn into a monster like you?" Jazz scoffed. "No, I don't think so."

Carina leaned closer. "This is your only chance for survival," she said quietly. "Quinn wants to display you as a successful convert, someone who finally saw the light and understood that the Sabbat is where the truth lies. Between you and me, she doesn't have a great track record for keeping Camarilla converts. The bishop is almost out of patience with her and she needs a win. If you get with the programme and she can parade you around as a newly minted true believer, she might get to live a little longer. But if you don't, they will kill you."

Jazz looked into her cold, alien eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Carina smiled. "I'm not. I have an interest in seeing Quinn succeed. But it's to your benefit, so don't complain."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you," Jazz replied, looking away. "I'm still not interested."

Carina smiled softly. "Hoping to escape and see your little boyfriend again?"

Jazz couldn't hide the way her words made her flinch. It was exactly what she was hoping for: that he was off somewhere safe with his sire, planning her rescue. All she had to do was hold out long enough for them to get to her.

Carina's smile widened. "I think you're going to be disappointed," she purred. "Shame. You're a cute couple."

Jazz squeezed her eyes shut and huddled down, not looking up until she heard Carina's stealthy tread retreating out of the room. A sick feeling of dread was coiling in the pit of her stomach. She wondered what Carina knew, what she was hinting at.

When she did look up, she saw that on the ground where Carina had stood there was a single blood bag, just within reach. She snatched it up and sank her fangs into it, draining it in just a few seconds. It was cold and tasted of the plastic it had been encased in, but it was still blood. She gave a sigh of relief as her stomach gleefully greeted the blood. A few minutes later she could feel her wounds knitting closed, the soft itching sensation almost enjoyable after the hours of nagging hunger and pain.

She was left alone for the rest of that night, and the next night. No more blood was brought to her, and she started to feel the hunger pangs again. On the third night, when the door to the basement opened, she looked up hopefully, wondering if Carina was bringing her another lecture and another bag of blood. But what she saw dashed that hope, and all others, to pieces in a moment.

Carina was coming down the stairs, along with Quinn. Between them they were carrying a huddled figure, bound in thick ropes. The figure's face and head were covered by the hood of his top, but Jazz knew instantly that it was Lucas. She could tell by the shape of his shoulders, the way his limp fingers curled, and by the instant pang in her chest as he was brought in.

The two women carried Lucas down to the bottom of the stairs and dumped him on the floor in front of Jazz's cell. "Surprise!" Quinn exclaimed with a flourish.

Lucas groaned as he hit the floor. His hood fell back to expose his face, streaked with dried blood and mottled with bruises. His blonde hair was caked in red. His eyes skittered sideways, meeting Jazz's gaze. Jazz stared back at him in horror. "What is he doing here?" she blurted.

Quinn shrugged. "Turned out his sire wasn't too happy with his behaviour and decided to turn him over to us," she replied. "With a few incentives, of course." She tapped Lucas's shoulder with her foot. "Carina told me about your little chat," she went on. "Sorry ... I'm about to crush your hopes and dreams. Although if you think about it, it's very romantic. Almost ... Shakespearean." She smirked.

Jazz leaned forward, grasping the bars of her cell with both hands. Fear and hunger were flooding through her in waves of heat and cold. "Please," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Don't hurt him."

"Bit late for that, dear," Quinn chuckled. Bending over, she plucked up a length of rope and, straightening to reach above her head, looped it over an iron hook in the basement's ceiling. When she pulled on it, Lucas was suddenly hauled up by the rope that bound his wrists. Quinn pulled until he was dangling, his toes barely scuffing the floor. She took a few steps back, pulling the rope taut and tying it to a metal ring embedded in the floor to keep Lucas in place. Now Jazz could clearly see every bruise, every mark, every sodden bloodstain on him.

"Any last words, Romeo?" Quinn asked.

Lucas raised his head slowly, dazed and bleary-eyed. He looked at Jazz, his blue eyes softening when they found her. "Sorry," he croaked.

Quinn snorted derisively. "I guess romance really is dead." She gave Carina a nod.

Belatedly, Jazz realised that Carina was wearing only a long black robe as she pulled loose the tie at her waist and shrugged it off, leaving herself naked. But for the Tzimicse, 'naked' wasn't really the right term, as her torso was covered by what looked like thin, flesh-coloured plates of flexible chitin. They overlapped each other slightly, making Jazz think of tiles on a roof and giving Carina's body an unpleasant ribbed appearance now that there were no clothes to hide them or hold them in. Carina rolled her shoulders and flexed, and the plates bristled out slightly, making her appear even more inhuman than she - it - already did.

Stepping up to Lucas's side, Carina lifted one hand and caressed his face like a lover. Slowly and deftly, she undressed him, tearing his clothes only when his bonds wouldn't let her slide them free, discarding them to one side like wrapping paper. When he was completely naked, she ran her long fingers up his thighs, explored the shape of his hips, lingered over his ribs, watching him intently, like a sculptor inspecting his clay. She glanced over at Jazz only once, a soft smile on her thin lips. Jazz, knowing exactly what those long fingers could do, stared back, trembling, afraid to look away.

"Please," she managed to mutter, "Don't."

Carina's smile faded as she turned back to Lucas, her gaze growing obscenely gentle. Her fingers settled beneath the hollow of his throat. She started to knead and push, sinking her fingers in. Lucas's skin obeyed like soft clay. Carina hooked her fingers beneath his clavicles and began to pull, and that was when Lucas began to scream.

Jazz felt compelled to watch as the Tzimicse coaxed Lucas's ribcage out, splitting it down the middle and opening it up until his stretched skin eventually tore open, exposing his internal organs and splattering her naked form with blood. She moved her hands to his face, sunk his eyes into his skull, pulled his jaw down so that it dangled at the base of his throat, and coaxed his tongue into a longer, thinner tendril that dangled from his ruined mouth. She massaged his bound hands until his fingers merged into each other and then split them open again so that they drooped out of the central mass like flower petals. She pressed his legs together until they merged, moulding the skin and flesh into a spiral that ran up to his torso. Through all of this, he was conscious and screaming. At first Jazz sobbed as she watched, the blood tears running freely down her dirty cheeks. But eventually her tears stopped and she just watched.

Finally, at a nod from Quinn, Carina bent down and pulled out a stake from the pocket of the robe she had been wearing. She pressed the point to Lucas's exposed heart and pushed it, slowly, gently, almost lovingly, through. Lucas's screams cut off with a surprised gurgle that, to Jazz's ears, sounded as it dwindled almost like a grateful sigh.

Then Carina turned to Jazz. She came up to the bars of her cage and knelt down to look into her eyes. Until that moment Jazz had not realised that she had dropped to her knees. Now Carina knelt to face her. One long finger came out and wiped at the trail of blood down her face. She raised her bloody finger to her lips and tasted it, a small smile of approval on her lips.

"I would ask how you are feeling now," Carina said gently, "But I can see it in your eyes. The emptiness. You are a blank canvas now, my friend. I am glad I could do this service for you."

Suddenly Jazz was possessed with a violent fury. She lashed out, thrusting her hands through the bars to grope at Carina's throat. But the Tzimicse was already out of her reach. She beat her hands against the bars, gnashing her fangs and shrieking with rage.

Quinn threw back her head and laughed. "Enjoy your new decoration," she said, heading for the stairs with Carina. "While he lasts. I'll be back when you've had some time to think. Welcome back, fledgling."

#vamily #vampire the masquerade #vampire #vampirism #dark pack #world of darkness #vtm #vamptober #malkavian #sabbat #sabbat vtm #tzimicse

7 notes · View notes