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anantaru · 1 year

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˚✧⁎⁺˳ sfw alhaitham boyfriend headcanons

some sweet boyfriend hcs about the scribe since he’s finally getting released, enjoy everyone ૮꒰ྀི ´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

꒰ a/n ꒱ — some instances in this are inspired by a couple hcs i have written about him in the past!

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, gn! reader

+ ˚ matching rings

for alhaitham, having a sense of bond with his significant other aside from an— already exceptional, emotional connection, didn‘t seem like an item he would‘ve spend nor waste any time on.

though a while later, after one day when he had sauntered through the midst of sumeru city, his eyes had suddenly caught a glimpse of a glowing jewel on a small table, being sold by a vendor from another nation.

it wasn‘t until later when he realised that the ring had a little stone embedded into it which held onto your most favorable color, next to it a larger version of the same product, a little different, but still carrying on the same intensity of beauty.

in the end he decided to buy it for you both, there wasn‘t a specific day or a special occasion that alhaitham had waited for to gift you his little present.

in reality he one day, brought the small gift with him to meet you, at last showing it to you in his large hand, the glow of the radiant stone on top of the golden frame had taken in the grand total of your pure attention.

he was well aware that you liked it, it was clearly written all over your sweet expression, how your eyes had widened in mere seconds, fixed with a certain luminosity of being so utterly grateful to him.

slowly, he rolled the ring on its desired destination and it fit you perfectly, of course it did.

after all, it was him who had your love, had fully acquired it and if he would remember and dwell back on it, alhaitham surely didn‘t regret buying the little gold since it was now an element part of his love for you, you who was his priceless possession.

+ ˚ slow, lazy make out sessions and his love

with the freedom he had obtained due to his job as the akademiya‘s scribe, alhaitham could gather enough spare time for you both to share with each other.

the comfort he sought after a long day was forthwith found in your arms with his head snugly leaning into your warm chest, listlessly paying attention to the low thumps of your heart.

although the two of you would engage in conversation at first, carelessly rattling onto numerous topics that just so happened over the past few hours, it'd aways end with you both getting closer.

for some unexplained reason, alhaitham tried to justify the comfort that consumed him whenever his lips would touch yours. It might have to do something with the dopamine releasing in him, with it setting free euphoric sensations in both his body and soul.

you were so sweet, so soft and squishy when your breathing went a tone lower, worldly wise and at a standstill, you were both relaxing under your touches, the romantic atmosphere that gnawed itself into the air, your surroundings adapting a fire as he gently took your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger, drawing you close just a bit more, a little.

there was no doubt that you have greatly helped him improve in the relationship department, not only with you sharing an intimate, romantic connection but as well as when it came to friendships in its complete glory, to illustrate further as indicated with his colleagues of the sumeru akademiya.

in this moment, you do not speak, neither of you.

it's those nanoseconds where alhaitham would be plagued by words or letters he wouldn't be the best person to speak them out loud, though in his mind, they ran freely and in tandem with his feelings.

i need you by my side, all eternity, i am better because of you, i love you unconditionally, all of you.

+ ˚ reading to you while cuddling

alhaitham had always preferred to stay in with you, to keep a low profile, in a finer way dedicating his time to you.

obviously, some of the books he had stored away in his home could become quite difficult for you to read and although sometimes— alhaitham would explain them to you in great detail, you will not understand a single syllable that was escaping that pretty mouth of his.

yet he was still trying for you and archons:

the way his bright eyes would carefully ghost over each page in concentration, or how he deciphered every definition in his brain, individually breaching out one and all meanings to gather the right one or how he was easily deducting the words with his cleverness.

to say he was cute while being surrounded by his thoughts was an understatement.

yes, it was apparent that as a result of some of the topics he'd try to make you understand, you'd end up falling asleep on top of him, more often than you'd actually prefer to do so.

It's not like you wanted to, also you didn't want alhaitham to feel like he was boring you to death because in truth it wasn't him who did— but the overly tedious subjects at hand specific books would display.

at this, he wouldn't fault you, at all.

meanwhile he had already pleasingly tucked a blanket over your resting frame, gently making sure you were extra comfortable while moving his body only as little as possible so he wouldn't accidentally stir you off your precious slumber.

as for how this day would end, well, alhaitham would continue to page through his book before at last, placing it onto the nightstand, dimming the lights before encircling you in his broad arms, compassionately positioning his head on top of yours and drifting off to a silent, secured doze next to you.

+ ˚ conclusion and alhaitham‘s ways of handling arguments

befitting of his character, alhaitham could become quite difficult to deal with when it came to arguments that would occur just as much as in any other relationship.

it was bound to happen and to him, it was mind numbing.

seldomly he would actively engage in an argument, which wasn't always the best route to take because it was important for both parties in a relationship to be open about their corresponding feelings and emotions.

deep trust was what had defined your relationship, since it was one, if not the most important factor. He was a great listener and once the situation had been properly calmed down alhaitham would appear to go through great lengths to make whatever seemed to had happened, right again.

however, he was quite uncomfortable whenever he witnessed you cry, unmistakably it wasn't in a belittling kind of way, rather did it too, push him into a soul destroying current, masticating him from the inside out.

it was a learning process, a wholly overtaxing one at that, but he did not seek perfection of you and neither did you.

to put it into a different perspective, in the end alhaitham— though it may not always seem this way, did whatever it required for you to be happy again.

he belonged to you just as much as you belonged to him and he wanted, more so desired, to keep it that exact way.

to live a peaceful, tranquil life with his soulmate was something he, no matter what, fancied.

on top of that, he'd make it his top priority to be unconditionally transparent with you, not daring to hide any aspects of his life with you in order for this to work out until the very end.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x you #al haitham x you #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader fluff #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x y/n #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact images

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shalotttower · 3 months

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Cultivating Flowers

Title: Cultivating Flowers

Fandom: Original

Summary: Marquis is a man of many interests, including gardening. Specifically, his new roses.

Word count: 3500+

Characters: OC!Marquis x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere!OC, manipulation, animal cruelty (not detailed, briefly described), seduction.

The first bloom appears two weeks after spring starts and it's the most glorious flower in all Marquis' garden. Gentle apricot color, like your favourite dress. You were saving for months — a whole autumn — and grandfather grumbled and grumbled about the frivolous waste of money, but once you finally put it on, his scolding didn't matter a bit. The dress made you feel like royalty — elegant, graceful, important.

You wonder if this is how Marquis feels all the time.

Gorgeous outfits, a splendid castle, a life of aristocracy and ease where everything is taken care of by servants and every other weekend there's an opulent dinner party full of refined conversations.

Your envy for him is almost as big as your caution.

Marquis Nicolae is rich. Like many rich people he possesses time. And when one has too much, they become terribly, infinitely bored. That's what grandfather told you in one of his drunken rants: people who are rich, castle-rich, private carriage-rich for generations are bored like nobody else, because nothing is scarce to them and so nothing is precious either. Work for them. Take their money. Keep your head low and remember — they don't see us like we see them.

Grandfather doesn't work in the castle anymore. He's got old hands which shake from years of physical labour and fruit brandy, back-aching hunched posture and swollen feet that need rest. Now he stays at home, waiting for you to return with stories and bread rolls baked by the cook.

He used to serve Marquis Nicolae's father, who was twice as rich, but thrice as wicked, according to grandfather's words.

"I was a stableman, your grandmother was a seamstress, God rest her soul. Sewed all my shirts, this one included," he tugs at the fabric with pride. "She did well on it... Look at those stitches."

For a moment he gets lost in muttering and rubs his index finger on an even patch of stitched fabric, as if hoping his touch can conjure a spectre. "Not like now, where clothes fall apart after just three seasons. Quality... Sturdiness," he smacks the table. "People used to think long term. Made their shirts for decades, strong like this."

Grandfather is forgetful these days, he leaps from one topic to another and loses the main line of thought, especially after a few glasses. But you wait.

"When I worked for Lord Cazimir, you see," he says finally. "He had horses, all strong, sleek, looked like jewels. A new horse each two months, said it wasn't right for a gentleman to have one for too long, but by God, I never saw a man treat them worse than him. Not enough sleep, ridden until bones hurt. If the carriage hit a stone, it was the horse's fault, if the reins got tangled it was the horse's fault, not the bloody driver. He had that whip with metal feathers which could cut through an apple. And before he made the last swish, he'd pause. Look the horse in the eyes. That was the scariest thing, how he stared at them, so calmly."

He glances at you, as if fearing an admonishment. For what? You wonder how it felt, caring for something that looked like a jewel time after time, after time, and knowing the goodbye was certain and inevitable, like a turn of a watermill wheel. Did grandfather mourn the horses? Or did he get used to burying their bodies under the soil? Maybe they fed someone later — people who don't have much are resourceful, they don't bury good meat.

You squeeze the water from the sheet in silence.

"None simply lived past two months, that's why he changed them so often."

"Why didn't you quit?"

"And then do what?" Grandfather snorts. "There was little job outside the castle, everyone who didn't have land or livestock worked for Marquis one way or another."

"It must have been difficult."

"Life is difficult," he answers, and you can't disagree.

Life is difficult, that's a fact, and it didn't get better when you started working for Marquis Nicolae yourself. A good thing is that unlike Lord Cazimir from scare stories he doesn't torment horses and rarely pays attention to anybody in a servant uniform. All of you share the same mindset: a quick "Good morning, m'lord" or "Have a pleasant day, m'lord" and then being gone as fast as possible.

Rumors circulate that Marquis never once had a full smile on his face. Charming chuckles when he's in a good mood, courtly lips stretches for ladies, bemused sneers when he's addressed by those who used to be in favour but now are out — yes, but the genuine and full-hearted joy: nobody has witnessed it.

He doesn't seem unhappy though, nor he is too serious. When you see him Marquis Nicolae always looks like he has eternity at hand and there's no hurry to spend it. To you, he is uninterested in anything and sharp about everything at once.

You can't describe him better. Words fail you when trying to fit him into boxes of easy understanding. But after all, it's not your job to fit him anywhere, your job is dusting shelves and scrubbing floors, and, since recent days — taking care of roses.

It's unusual for the castle to have such plants this early in spring. They're imported, said the gardener, from cooler places and prefer winter over the blooming season of May and June. That's why Marquis commissioned a greenhouse construction weeks prior, to have beautiful flowers which can bloom regardless of the weather. It took an entire month of hard work, people hired from nearby towns and a promise of good money. You watched them build from the kitchen window where you were helping with meals.

Roses arrived next. Seven bushes filled with buds ready to open up any day. And oh they did. Soft apricot colors covered stems like dewdrops, beautiful enough to make one gasp.

One morning you bring your rag and a bucket to the greenhouse a bit earlier to enjoy the fragrance before breakfast is served. Nice things like these are not for maids like you — the petal scent and the gentle touch of leaves — they're for ladies in beautiful dresses who have time and luxury to appreciate them, but nobody will know anyway if you stop to lean down close enough for your nose to almost bury itself in velvety softness. It's a small indulgence which can hardly hurt anyone. Nobody will know if you pretend to be a lady just for a minute.

"They're quite extraordinary, aren't they."

You freeze, nose in the middle of the rose bush.

"I- Yes", you straighten up and curtsy. "They are most beautiful, m'lord."

Marquis' figure, backlit by the morning sun, casts a shadow which stretches far beyond your own feet.

"Do you know why I chose it?" he asks. "This breed."

He's dressed in a dark waistcoat with delicate embroidery on the collar and doesn't have a single hair out of place, not a strand too thick, not a strand too thin; as flawless as a painting which hang on the walls of his library, but not as solemn. Those paintings seem to measure everyone around them. Marquis Nicolae looks more approachable in appearance, and that's where the approachability ends. His eyes, burgundy brown colour you've never seen before, measure people too, in value rather than worthlessness.

You shake your head, "No, m'lord."

"Because," Marquis continues without minding your answer at all, "it's pretty."

His lips stretch in a courtly smile of a gentleman who is amused by his own joke. You don't understand it but smile in return anyway, because you must. Because this is how the world works — nobles are amused and maids fake understanding so the amusement can persist a little longer.

"Go on," he says. "They are meant to be smelled after all."

You nod and curtsy again.

Later he will be served tea at the ornate greenhouse table while you scrub the floors until your fingers ache. Marquis' focus will shift towards letters, and this is how it's supposed to be. Him reading correspondence, you being invisible like dust under the shelves you clean. It feels better when he doesn't look at you with those eyes of his. They pierce through everything they see.

There's something wrong about him. But you can't tell what yet.

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Life is monotonous, especially in a place like this, even banquets and events have that homogeneous taste, because there's at least one every three weeks, not speaking of brunches which rotate regularly depending on who's currently in Marquis' favour. You serve dishes full of rich fragrances that make your mouth water but can't ever dream of trying them. Meat dripping with wine sauce, roasted chicken breasts wrapped in crispy bacon and glazed with honey syrup. Fresh fruits coated in powdered sugar. Sometimes in the evening when everyone is asleep you mouth the names of those meals: "Beef Bourguignon," "Veal Piccata", "Chicken Florentine". Those foreign words are hard to pronounce — Beef Boo-gee-nyon, Veel Pick-kata — you do it quietly and mostly in your head so grandfather doesn't hear and scoff about wasting time on useless things.

"You're not starving," he would say. "There's bread, there's soup, you don't need those. Be happy, girl. We used to eat potatoes for months straight during famines."

You've never been hungry enough to know what famine tastes like but suspect that the flavor must be something similar to the dull feeling between the busy hours of work, which gnaws at you and makes your thoughts drift to the lunch break.

Sometimes, in a particularly sour mood he adds, "Don't stuff your head with fancy nonsense you can't have, it's only gonna make you bitter."

True.

You're a maid. A girl. A nobody.

And this is how it's supposed to be.

How to tell grandfather that you don't wish to be fancy? Just to try once the roast duck stuffed with grapes and apples, or fresh sardines baked in butter sauce, which smell heavenly as they're carried up the stairs to Marquis Nicolae's salon where guests are gathered.

How to tell him that it's not about food, not really.

It's about knowing what an apricot rose smells like early in the morning while others sleep. How velvety its petals feel when touched. Delicate things like these you're not supposed to have, but do anyway, because a moment stolen out of monotony pulls you from beneath the apron. You, yourself, not just a pair of hands with tired fingers, exist briefly when roses bloom in Marquis' greenhouse and a little piece of yesterday's cake is smuggled into your pocket.

You understand why he's wary. Grandfather's right: with longing comes bitterness. But you're careful not to overdo it. There's only one stolen minute of appreciation each day, not more, so you remember who you are — someone meant to be seen rarely and unnoticed most of the time — and return behind the apron.

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Spring goes on.

Daylight stretches a little longer. Ground gets a little warmer. Marquis Nicolae often spends time in his private study after breakfast, then at noon — in the greenhouse. He strolls there among the greenery or sits by one of the tables with a book. Reading seems to be an activity he favors, and unlike some other gentlemen who grow tired within pages Marquis can stay completely still for hours without once getting restless.

You know because you watch him from the corner of your eye.

What kind of books he likes to read if they manage to keep him entertained for such lengthy periods, what titles do those leather spines hide, which stories are good enough for a gentleman like Marquis? He always seems so politely disinterested. You wonder if there are books that can make even him laugh.

Sometimes he asks you questions which startle you.

"Have you read 'The Castle of the Lady'? It's a novel."

You shake your head. "No m'lord. I can't read."

His eyebrows raise. Not in astonishment, Marquis Nicolae has a face of a man who rarely encounters surprises, his reactions are akin to mild interest bordering on curiosity, as if he enjoys discovering something new, something that doesn't fit into his existing assumptions.

"Can't?" he repeats.

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, "No, m'lord. Never learnt."

"Who raised you?"

"My grandfather. He's a stableman... was. Now retired".

"I see," he returns to his book.

You fidget with a rag in your hands, why does he care to ask such question? What difference does it make whether you read or don't? It's not that uncommon. Most servants only know the basics, letters which form their names and the ones that stand for numbers. You don't really need the skill. What for?

"You may continue," he adds.

So you do.

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"Are you the only child?"

"Yes, m'lord."

"Your mother? Father?"

"My mother passed away giving birth to me, and father was a soldier, so he died in a war."

"What a shame," Marquis says, but it sounds like a comment on bad weather.

You're standing with fresh linens in his opulent bedchamber. It's spacious: tall windows and furniture made of rare wood. Old, like the walls of Albastru castle itself. A maid's life story is neither interesting nor important enough to pursue it, at least not in the place like this. Marquis Nicolae is bored, that's the most reasonable explanation to the current arrangement. He's looking for entertainment, but what entertainment can come at your expense, you're unsure.

Grandfather warned you not to draw too much attention, but it's not exactly your fault. Marquis' schedule is well known — he spends evenings in the salon and retires long past midnight. The chamber should've been empty. You should've been able to change his bedding, clean the fireplace and leave without as much as a sound.

Yet here he is, in a high armchair by the fireplace.

And here you are, in front of him, waiting for a dismissal that doesn't come.

On a small coffee table there're squares with simple pictures — a dog, a cat, an apple, made of thin wood with letters engraved in black ink. You step from one foot to the other, the lemon-scented sheets hide the way your fingers twitch.

Marquis traces a square with a rose.

"Sit down," he says and motions to the other chair.

"Your linens, m'lord-"

"They can wait."

No, they can't, you think. The bedding needs to be done, the fireplace cleaned, carpets swept, wilted flowers removed — there's so much to do to linger, and it's already getting late. If you're not able to finish on time-

But Marquis Nicolae didn't give you permission to leave.

You sit and put the linens on your lap.

Grandfather would say that Marquis enjoys the sight of your discomfort behind that courtly smile of his, but he doesn't look amused, he looks the usual. Calm and slightly disinterested. Sharp, despite being relaxed.

"If you figure out what letters stand from this," he points at the apple picture square, "to this one," then moves his finger to the picture with a goat, "you'll get a treat."

"M'lord?" you frown.

There must be something wrong with your hearing, but no, Marquis leans back and crosses his long legs. "A treat."

Treats are for children, treats are for dogs, treats are for horses who are obedient and look like jewels. You stare at him, puzzled, but try not to let it show; nobles have strange hobbies sometimes: races which cost thousands of gold coins for one bet alone, hunting dangerous animals, forcing their servants into duels to pass time. This must be one of those, an entertainment beyond your comprehension.

Still, time is moving forward and the complexity of your situation is becoming more apparent with every passing second; you've never felt particularly powerful — why would you? — but now you're acutely aware of how fragile one's position is when it depends on someone else's whims.

You take the first picture.

An apple. Letter A. Then a ball — B. Cat... So that's what they look like written down.

Marquis' eyes follow your fingers as they slide across the wooden squares, you feel his gaze like a touch, even though there's a coffee table distance between you and a bit more. You quietly mouth each word and letter by habit, unaware of this little detail. His eyebrows raise, this time with a hint of amusement which you don't see, too focused on your predicament.

Dog — D.

The clock is ticking.

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"Well?" Marquis asks later when shadows cross the room. The sun is gone, the fire in the fireplace burns lower but bright enough to illuminate the space. Sitting like this has given you a headache which makes thinking harder.

"I have them figured out m'lord", you say carefully.

"Tell me then."

"This is A," you slide the apple towards him across the table. It feels a little silly. "This is B."

The way you say them isn't quite accurate. It's "bee" instead of "b" and "dee" instead of "d", but he doesn't tell you that. Your voice goes quieter with each following letter, perhaps because you're nervous or maybe simply tired — who knows what time it is by now? Ah, quarter to ten. He watches you struggle with spelling and pronunciation until finally there they are. All squares from Apple to Goat, in order just like he arranged them.

"What about this one?" Nicolae points to the playing cat.

"It starts with 'K', m'lord."

You're quite sure, not that much variation is left after all, and say it with the most conviction you can muster so he would finally be satisfied and end this odd game. Your head hurts and stomach grumbles with hunger — there was no time for the lunchbreak today —both physical and mental exhaustion blur together.

Grandfather must be worried sick by now, he hates when you're late without telling anything beforehand.

Then Marquis covers his mouth, and for the first time since you entered Albastru castle, laughs.

Not chuckles. Not smiles without smiling. Laughs that his shoulders shake, that his eyes crinkle at the corners. You stare bewildered, not knowing what to do. Laugh yourself? Smile politely? Say "m'lord" again?

Marquis' laughter dies down eventually and he collects himself, straightening his waistcoat which doesn't require any adjusting in the first place, he's perfect as always.

"No, that's C."

Your cheeks flush red, how were you supposed to know? It would seem that a gentleman such as Marquis Nicolae should know better than mocking someone's lack of education, but apparently he finds it amusing. You lower your gaze and look away.

"How are you called?" he asks.

After a pause your name rolls off your tongue; small in his bedchamber, it barely leaves an echo.

"Well, I said a treat, didn't I?"

You don't want any treats, or to spend here even a minute longer; Marquis rises and walks towards his desk.

"Come here."

Reluctantly you stand up and follow him. The linens are left on the chair in a crumpled pile, they need ironing now. There's nothing to do other than obeying so you stop next to him where he opens one of the drawers. Inside you can see something wrapped in white paper with a thin ribbon bow around it. He takes the item out and pulls the ribbon off. Delicate scent fills the air, the little cakes, you know their name from the cook ─ macarons ─ bloom inside the wrapping.

Marquis Nicolae picks one up with two fingers and brings it to your lips.

The macarons smell sweet like almonds and look beautiful like roses in his greenhouse. They're not for maids, you think, no, this is...he shouldn't be doing that.

Your mouth waters anyway.

His eyes don't leave your face, "Do you want it or not?"

You do.

"Then take a bite."

The dessert melts in your mouth instantly. Its texture is soft, like petals, like everything else luxurious you've never had but imagined countless times. A little chewy, a bit crunchy, it's the most delicious thing you've tried, better than a piece of cake taken from the kitchen pantry, better than honeyed walnut bread.

"Another one?"

Marquis Nicolae feeds you two more, before you realize what exactly is happening — a bite by a small bite your dignity dissolves into his hand. You swallow the last morsel and quickly step back; you've forgotten yourself, forgot who you were and where, and now there's sweetness lingering on your tongue, while Marquise' fingertips smell faintly of apricot.

What have you done?

He looks amused again.

"Thank you, m'lord," you curtsy, then turn around to gather the discarded sheets.

"Clean the fireplace and change the linens. Then you might be free."

"Yes, m'lord."

It's a dismissal at last.

Marquis sits down and reaches for a book — he's done with you it seems — so you hurry to complete the assigned tasks. The fireplace isn't too dirty fortunately, just some ashes and coal leftovers. Next, the sheets, then the flowers.

Before you close the door and rush down the empty hall he speaks again, "If you still remember them all by tomorrow evening, you'll have another treat."

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #original character #original work #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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moonshine-nightlight · 11 months

Text

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Six

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 26

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine][Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] Part Twenty-Six [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You’re grateful this gala does not require a grand entrance despite it being the last of the parties at the Governor’s house and in Connton. Instead, you're on a dais to one side of the room in a sort of receiving area. Everyone who's come to Connton but will not be going to the wedding itself on the Northridge estate has come. They all want a chance to speak to the Northridges and express their well-wishes before you leave town. You've had no moment to yourself since arriving.

It's a real test of your memory. You've met so many new people over the course of these galas and now you must see if you can match the faces to their owners. Dale is surprisingly good at doing so, thank the light. Your notes help you to remember specific details with the names, so you end up working well with each other to ensure no one thinks you’ve forgotten them.

You fall into an easy back and forth rhythm and you can't help how satisfied your partnership makes you feel, even if you begin to grow tired with the constant social interaction. It's been over an hour without a pause in conversation you're expected to be attentive and contributing to. Dale appears ready to continue into perpetuity, but you hope when the next round of food is announced, the unofficial line of those you need to speak with will have dwindled enough that you can stop for a time. You’ve never been so eager to join the typical press and crowd of a typical gala.

Of course, after you've spoken to those who sought you out to, there will likely be a number requesting dances with yourself or Dale. You can only hope that's after the food as you've once more reached the part of the evening where your anxiety has been quelled by weariness.

Something bumps your hand and you turn to see Dale offering you a goblet of wine, light and cool. You smile gratefully at him, murmuring your thanks and unsure why the kind gesture brings heat to your face. You sip on the drink, your throat thankful and your mind appreciating the reprieve from talking as Dale brings your current discussion away from the intricacies of divining new mineral deposits and onto the wine. You're able to hum appreciatively in all the right places and the couple moves on with a polite smile.

Dale presses close to you, leaning over to peer into your nearly empty wine glass. "Another?"

You shake your head, resisting the urge to lean into him. The evening's just begun, you remind yourself, it's too early to be tired. "I am fine for now."

"I'll be fine once it is time for the main course," Dale grumbles good-naturedly. "Grandmother ushered us up here so quickly I could snatch nothing more than a single roll."

"I think the crowd around us is thinning," you attempt to console him. Dale is nearly always hungry, or so it seems to you, but he isn't wrong. Between the meeting this afternoon to discuss the assassins, the preparations for this final gala, and then being whisked away to hosting duties as soon as you arrived, you two haven't had a meal since breakfast a little before noon. "The later crowd should not gather until after supper."

"Thank the stars for that," Dale mutters as he takes your goblets to leave them on a side table. "This day has been nothing but talks and discussions."

"I agree," you say. "I do believe the musicians Grandmother hired for the wedding arrived in town tonight and shall be playing at this gala."

"Oh? Good, good.” Dale looks cheered by the prospect of some physical activity as you’d hoped. “I know some of our guests are already filling our dance cards, but the first few I intend not to give away."

You know he's probably only looking forward to not having to make conversation, but you like to imagine he also simply would appreciate your company. "I agree." You share a smile with him.

You look away only so as to locate the next guest and finish, itching even more for this first round of focused socializing to end. Instead you hear a familiar voice greeting Grandmother. You stiffen, but at the same time, you're grateful that this final shoe has dropped. You've spent all evening anticipating your family's arrival. At the same time, you're still surprised to see your mother speaking with Grandmother, your father at her side and your brother on the other.

You can feel Dale turn with you, but you can't look away. Has it truly only been a couple months since you were last living with them in your home fief? It feels like so much longer.

Your father meets your eyes first and you can see he also needs a second to take you in. He looks the same as always, the crisp lines of his naval uniform that he prefers to wear for any event is as neat as always, the buttons shined to perfection. It's you who has changed. Still, he smiles, tilting his head for you to join them.

You start toward them automatically and glance up at Dale when you sense him following. His eyes are fixed on them and from the way his bearing and attention have sharpened, you know you don't need to tell them who they are.

"...cannot be helped, of course," your mother is saying to Grandmother.

"Of course," Grandmother says sympathetically. "We are pleased you were able to make this gala if that is what you have been dealing with."

You only hesitate when you get closer, habit telling you to stand behind your father, but you take your correct place at Grandmother's left. You’re surprised to see your oldest brother is here as well. As the inheriting lord, he had every reason to stay at home given your parents’ presence. Your mother's eyes land on you immediately, you can feel her looking you over, but it's your father who speaks first.

“You look lovely, my child." His smile is minimal, but his voice is quiet and warm. He’s where you get your desire to avoid the spotlight from. He’s more than happy to stand in your mother’s shadow at events and he was the one who often employed your ill health to excuse himself from events he couldn't get out of with other obligations when in the country. When you were feeling up for it, he would read to you. On the other hand, if you were too ill, he could never bring himself to stay long.

“Thank you, Father.” You try to push down the return of feeling like a child play acting an adult, something you haven't felt in weeks. Your hand still can't help but smooth your skirts before you meet your mother's eyes.

"You do," your mother confirms, her expression schooled politeness as it always is at public events. It makes it hard for even you to read her. "Even if it surprises my mother's heart to see you in your betrotheds' colors rather than our own. They suit you well."

"Thank you, Mother,” you reply, more focused on your role as a host than fully absorbing her comment, though it echoes one of your own thoughts when you first donned your Northridge dress. Since Father and Grandmother Northridge were the ones who arranged this marriage contract while Dale was away, none of your family has actually met him. You gesture to Dale. “Please allow me to introduce Lord Dale of Northridge, my fiancé.” Dale bows as you continue. “Lord Dale, allow me to introduce my parents, Lord Henry and Lady Fiore of Portsmith, and my brother Lord Asher."

Everyone murmurs pleasantries and greetings while you wait for your nerves to relax. It looks like Asher left his wife home to manage the fief, but did bring at least some of his children, who you can see behind him. You spot your older sister as well, with her husband and heir, all the way from Khinat, but they’re speaking with a few other guests nearby.

Grandmother, and Grandfather move to greet them with Asher acting as the spokesperson for your family, allowing you a moment with your parents. Your mother clasps your arms, making a bit of a show of looking you up and down, before she pulls you into a quick embrace that ends nearly as soon as it started. “I’m pleased you're doing well,” she says quietly enough only you can hear. “I’d been worried about you, away from us.”

You flush. “Mother, I’ve been away longer for school.”

“It is not the same,” she insists, but refuses to elaborate. She steps back and frowns at your dress. “While the colors are lovely, your sleeves are too short,” your mother tuts. “You must be having chills with these.” She gives one of your short sleeves a small tug. “I know they are the fashion now, but you mustn’t neglect your health. Do you have a shawl? Obviously not, or you’d have worn it. I shall have one over to you tomorrow. We’ll ensure the rest of your clothing is sent to Northridge once we return.”

You resist the urge to sigh, to say anything about her own fashionable dress. You merely wait for her to finish speaking her piece. “Thank you, Mother.”

“This gala looks lovely,” Mother continues, looking around with sharp but pleased eyes. “Most befitting such an occasion for Northridge,” she nods graciously at Dale, but continues before he can reply. “I’ve never been to Connton, but it's a charming city. We had some difficulties with the weather and some troublemakers on the river, so it is relieving to have arrived. Although I suppose we have yet to make the final ride tomorrow.”

‘Troublemakers’ likely means folks upset about a tax raise who tried to hold up the boat when they saw the family flags flying, saying those who levied said taxes were aboard. Mother had all sorts of euphemisms for various spots of danger or attacks that might occur. ‘Troublemakers’ meant no one was injured or else they would have been ‘ruffians’. As far as you know, they are not common codewords and exist primarily to keep up appearances.

Dale sees his opportunity and says, “The ride is an easy one, only a day or two depending primarily on how quickly the traffic in and out of the city is moving.”

“Very good,” Mother says. “Are there proper wayhouses betwixt your estate and this city? Given all of our travels, we are likely to leave later and I’ve no desire to ride much in a day or overnight.” Mother gets sick to her stomach if she spends too much time in a carriage, you remember. She’s likely bothered that they can’t continue to sail.

“Yes,” Dale answers before you can. “I can provide the name of where we stay if we stop for the night. We’ll be leaving early enough tomorrow that we won’t be stopping. My understanding from speaking with other guests is that many will arrive gradually throughout the week so it should not be overcrowded.” There will be dinners each night on the estate, but no more formal galas until the wedding. You cannot wait for the lull of social activity before you must be put on a stage.

“Wonderful,” Mother says with a smile up at Dale. She glances around for her secretary who starts to make her way over once Mother makes eye contact with her. “We had meant to inquire sooner, but had never anticipated being so delayed.”

Dale dutifully relates the necessary travel information to her, without you needing to say a thing. Once she has the information not only about the wayhouse, but also regarding what wing of the estate your family will be staying, Mother bustles away with her secretary to ensure your siblings and their families receive the same details, Nevermind waiting to do so in the morning or trusting her secretary to speak with theirs. Nevermind if any of them had planned to leave earlier or stay in Connton an additional day or so. She’ll want the family to all stay together.She leaves, but not before saying, “And I shall check to see if we’ve brought along a spare shawl for you.”

You give your father a look and he nods before following her, so there’s hope she won’t actually return with one to give you. You stay where you are, needing a moment to recollect yourself after seeing them again.

Dale’s quiet voice, leaned close for just you to hear, interrupts your thoughts, “It is not cold and her sleeves…” You wave off his logical points about the fact that it is nearly halfway through Hectary and Mother’s own sleeves were short before he can make them. “Do not try to make sense of it. I’m receiving a shawl now and there would have been no persuading her otherwise.”

“As you say.” Dale sounds confused and skeptical, but he doesn’t argue with you. It is too much to try to explain that Mother often thought your fits were motivated by cold since they at times resembled shivers. She often tried to dress you far more warmly than the occasion called for and had only mildly backed off after you had heat exhaustion once while home on holiday a couple years ago.

A tug on your hand draws your attention to your niece, who you’re guessing is allowed to attend this gala for a couple hours and only on her best behavior. Naturally, she’s snuck away from Asher’s side already. Ten year old Rose had followed you around the family house when you returned from schooling a year ago, suddenly fascinated by you. She’d actually been upset when you left for Northridge and refused to say goodbye.

Instead of greeting you or introducing herself, she narrows her eyes, looking suspiciously from you to Dale. "This is who you are marrying?"

"Hello to you as well, Rose,” you say, but she just crosses her arms with a huff. Deciding that it is not your job to teach her manners—especially not when you feel she is only choosing to ignore them, not ignorant of them—you simply answer her question. “Yes, this is Lord Dale.” Turning to Dale, you explain, “Rose is my niece, Asher’s youngest."

"Pleased to meet you Lady Rose," Dale says with a short bow.

Rose blinks before executing a perfunctory curtsy, though it does nothing to diminish her frown. "You're not what I expected," she says bluntly.

"Rose," you admonish. This is pushing it, even for a child at one of her first events such as this. You have seen her deal politely with guests at the house before and have no idea what could be compelling her to be so rude. Not to mention you've not seen Dale interact with any children and have no idea how he will take her attitude. After all, he didn't grow up with siblings underfoot nor their children.

"In what way?" Dale asks instead, only sounding curious.

Rose hums, tapping her chin in an exaggerated mimic of Asher that you feel some of your frustration melting. If Dale's not put off, and your Mother is out of earshot, then you don’t mind indulging her to an extent. It’s curious to see her almost suspicious on your behalf. Whether or not you usher her back to her father’s side will depend on her answer to Dale’s question. "You're too tall," she proclaims as if that contained all her criticism distilled to one comment.

You blink in surprise, but Dale laughs. "My apologies, but I've no way to change that."

"I suppose," Rose replies grudgingly. She bites her lip, looking between you two, a question clearly on her mind. "Can I visit? Even after you're married?"

"Of course," you say with a frown. While you’d not been allowed to travel out of your home fief when you were young, most noble children often visited cousins and extended family members before formal schooling at an institution. "Why wouldn't you be able to?"

Rose shrugs. "Father said that things change after a person marries. That you might be too busy."

"I would never be too busy for you.”

"He said, it would be his," she points at Dale, "house and so he might not want me to."

You suppose you could see your brother's point. He likely said that more out of an abundance of caution and knowing couples prefer some time to themselves to settle in. Perhaps he was even trying to give you an excuse ahead of time if you’d didn’t want a nosy niece underfoot. However, you do not like the implication you would need Dale's permission for your family to visit. You open your mouth to say so, but you're not the one who answers her.

"Nonsense," Dale says, clearly confused. "With our marriage, it will be our house. Any family of my spouse would my family as well. You are welcome to visit as you please, though I'd caution you to send word ahead of time. We'll be touring the fief in our first year."

"Truly?" Rose asks before grinning, not waiting for confirmation. "Thank you!"

"You also need your parent's permission," you add, knowing exactly how her mind works. Predictably, she pouts. "But we would love to have you. Tell me what you have been up to since we last spoke. You never answered my last letter."

"I'm sorry," Rose says dutifully, but she isn’t truly bothered. "I always forget. It's half finished. Everything was boring until Aunt Callalily came. Come on, you have to meet Sara and Kanti.”

“I’ve already met them,” you point out, but take her hand anyway. “So have you.”

“But they were just babies then,” Rose says dismissively as she pulls you over. “Now they’re almost real people.” Dale laughs and Rose grins, always pleased to entertain an adult. Your heart warms at Dale’s indulgence of her, grateful you do not have the original Dale who likely would have dismissed her outright.

You follow her over to your siblings and find that your other sister and her husband are here as well. Introductions fly around as you all fulfill etiquette’s demands. Your nieces and nephews end up sneaking away before you can see how much any of them have grown. Dale ends up talking to your father and brother, but you are able to talk with your sisters.

“Douglas is coming?” you ask, unable to keep your surprise to yourself when you learn from them that your remaining brother is going to be at the wedding too. All four of your siblings will come, you’d never thought… “I thought he was stationed on the northern border for the rest of the year. Fort Rhimer.”

“He is,” your oldest sister, Callalily, confirms. “However, knights are allowed leave,” she says, as if your surprise is what’s odd. “A family wedding is more than an acceptable reason to take such. We are not at war. He is more than capable of leaving his command for a fortnight or two.”

“Of course, I simply did not think…” You just didn’t think he’d bother to come. Douglas is the sibling you saw and knew the least, with him having been off in the capital for training or on active military duty for most of your life. Perhaps he wants to take leave for other reasons and saw this as a convenient opportunity. Or maybe he wants to see the rest of the family. “Well, I’ll be happy to see him.”

“Yes, it's been too long,” Marigold, the sister closest in age to you, but who is closer still to Douglas. She’s nearly a decade older than you are. “Douglas is too focused on his career and would do well to take more time to enjoy the rest of what life has to offer. And to see us, of course. He neglects his family.”

“Hush,” Callalily rolls her eyes and makes a show of looking around. “Don’t let Mother hear you or you’ll be treated to another lecture on the importance of a noble’s getting married, even though we are already married.”

Your mother is still off somewhere else, but everyone’s making their way down from the dais to join the gala proper. You’re still a little nervous with your family around, that you’re not sure how much you’ll actually end up eating, but you’d like to get away from even this minor stage. Callalily must agree as she leads the two of you over to one of the buffet tables. “No doubt she shall be searching this gala for eligible matches the entire night, especially since he is the only one of her children left who is not even betrothed.”

Marigold laughs. You used to be envious of how effortless she makes everything look. If you tried to wear that bright red scarf with its foreign patterns, even if it matched your dress like hers does, you’d only look out of place and awkward. She has the ability to keep abreast with current trends and styles and play them to her advantage. She has an eye for fashion even if, as a sculptor, she primarily uses no color in her work.

Even Callalily who should look out of place in her Khinat dress manages to only look elegant and interesting as a diplomat should. Your plainer clothes, especially growing up as you only had a few nice dresses given your shyness and often inability to attend more important events, had always left you feeling more than a step behind your worldly older sisters. “Oh, I wonder if he’s realized that now, given the wedding we’re attending.” Marigold leans over and gives you a hug around the shoulders. “Our youngest, all grown up. He’s going to regret coming, isn’t he?”

You’ve often felt cut off from your siblings, being so much younger than them. Now, this gala is for you, for your wedding that you’re helping to host in your lovely Northridge dress. It's fun to be included in the joke with your sisters. To feel like you’re within reach of the same plateau of ‘proper adult’ as they are. “Perhaps.” You smile back at her. “Maybe Mother will succeed in her matchmaking.”

Marigold stifles a snort. “Oh, yes, and then perhaps he will fly back to the fort on the wings of such a mystical love.”

Callalily swats gently at Marigold’s arm, but she’s smiling. “We didn’t think he’d holdout long enough to be the last one, did we?” She looks over the hors d'oeuvres laid out as she decides what to eat. You find you’re not ready to have anything after all. “Who knows what will happen?”

She turns to you and you’re surprised to have her attention at such an event. Callalily always tries to have at least one longer conversation with you when she visits, but she doesn’t often seek out your opinion in a group, or even at dinner. “How are you faring?” Her eyebrows tilt down in sympathy, a common look she’s given you—one that always makes you feel like a child, though you know she means nothing by it. “I hope these preparations have not been too much for you. Or did the Northridges’ take care of everything?” She doesn’t give you a chance to answer, before she looks at Marigold with a smirk. “I must admit, it would be novel to think of a wedding for one of us that Mother did not try to manage all of.”

You know she sees you as someone still ill, someone who tires easily and is overwhelmed easily, but you thought she could see you’ve moved past that. She’s the one who encouraged you to pick your own school, your own courses of study. Did she think you were still so moldable to even the family you were marrying? Or did she think the Northridges were overbearing? You’d not thought she had any particular thoughts or opinions on them.

“Your fault for getting married first,” Marigold says to Callalily. “My fault for getting married to someone without their own mother to fight her off. And Asher’s fault for being the heir. Only you have been so lucky.” She winks at you. You wonder if that’s truly the reason because you remember the arguments and control Mother had sought to exercise over your other siblings' weddings. It was why you’d been almost expecting her to come with you to Northridge, even though it was uncommon for a parent of a betrothed to come with them to stay with the family they are marrying into. Mother hadn’t pushed to be involved, besides ensuring you had all you needed, shawls aside.

You think she’s more committed to acting as though everything is typical, to show too much of her traditional concern over your health. She’d been extremely concerned regarding your health reports and how they might taint a prospective marriage. You hope she’ll continue to act as if she isn’t worried about your health or a relapse, but you don’t know how you feel about it once more resulting in treatment other than what your siblings received. Even if you don’t want her to interfere with the wedding.

“That luck is likely to be running out,” Callalily cautions. “Now that she’s arrived.”

“Everything’s already settled,” you protest, hoping you weren’t wrong about her overstepping to manage what you and the Northridges have well in hand.

“Not sure that will stop Mother if she sees something she feels is missing,” Marigold teases. “You know how she is when she sees a problem she feels she knows how to solve.”

She’s not wrong and you anxiously peer around to see if Mother’s returned. Callalily’s hand on your arm brings your focus back to her. “We shall keep her busy as best as we are able,” Callalily reassures you. “I’m certain you’ve enough to worry about without Mother’s particular style of assistance. She truly hasn’t said anything about the wedding preparations. I believe she is merely delighted to see you wed. I’m not sure she’d thought…” Callalily trails off but you hear the words regardless. Thought to see you marry at all. All your family had thought you’d not live past thirteen, the age at which your aunt had died. “Well, the wedding itself is not her worry. Discussing your health, in private, is likely on the table.”

Mother was the one who managed your doctors and treatments while you grew up. She would go through different phases of how involved she was and what she left to the individual doctors, but she always pushed for new techniques and options to be tested. She’ll likely have some new compound she wants you to take to ensure your condition doesn’t resurge or simply to enhance overall health. “Of course,” you acknowledge ruefully. “I only hope I do not have to talk her out of substances that are actually poisonous once more.” Half of what you’re learned about medicine was defensive, not mere curiosity on your part, due to Mother’s willingness to experiment.

“To her credit,” Marigold says with a grin, obviously remembering the incident a few years ago since she had been visiting them at the time. “I knew a number of people who were using belladonna as well. They were all very convinced of the therapeutic benefits if one did not use too much.”

“Your people—artists—are always so ready to believe beauty is pain,” Callalily says with a smirk before helping herself to a stuffed mushroom.

“Oh yes, only us artists could be so vain.” Marigold rolls her eyes. “And how long did it take your maid to do your hair up in this manner?”

You eye the beautiful and elaborate braids Callalily has her hair in, she even has a few strands of jewelry in that make her chestnut hair look particularly lustrous. It must have taken hours. “The usual amount,” Callalily says with a sniff.

“Of course,” Marigold replies. She never takes anything too seriously nor does she hold Callalily’s, or anyone’s, teases or criticisms against her. “I did want to compliment the work. It truly is lovely.”

“Thank you.” Callalily smiles and then reaches out to touch one of your curls. “Yours are sweet, I hope you do not follow Marigold’s example.” You feel younger in your basic hairstyle, but at least you know you won’t need to respond.

“My hair is fine,” Marigold says quickly enough. “Covered, as propriety dictates.”

“It’s still down,” Callalily tuts.

“And no one has fainted from the sight, since it is covered,” Marigold reiterates. “I have to have my hair pinned up so precisely and tightly to my head when I work that I cannot abide having it done so when it can be helped.”

“Why not cover it while you work?”

“It does not work as well,” Marigold insists around a piece of bread and some cheese, a hand to cover her mouth while she rebuts Callalily. “All my scarves get covered in clay and I overheat.”

“It’s hot enough in this ballroom.” Callalily reaches for a fresh glass to drink, passing one to Marigold and to you.

Your pleasure at the lack of hesitation in her inclusion of you is overshadowed by the reminder of your mother’s intentions. “Mother hasn’t returned with a shawl for me, has she?”

“No…” Marigold frowns, looking baffled. “Why would she? It’s a week into Hectary with nary a sea breeze to cool us.”

“You know how she feels about our sibling and chills,” Callalily reminds Marigold before looking back at you. “No, I believe she’s returned and is speaking with the Governor. If she had found a shawl to foist upon you, she would have done so before joining that conversation.”

“Thank the light,” you mutter and take a sip of the wine she’d handed you.

“You poor thing,” Marigold coos. “She’d have stifled you. I’ve no notion how you put up with her fussing.”

“Yes, truly. I managed to have her stop by the time I left for schooling.” Callalily doesn’t mean to sound scolding but you can’t help feeling like she is. “You should assert yourself more clearly with her.”

Callalily’s never understood how differently Mother treats you than she does your other siblings. She doesn’t see that you could behave identically to how Callalily did when she was your age and not be permitted the same leeway. “She does not listen.”

“You must make her,” Callalily says, as if it is that easy. As if you have not tried. “She’ll never see you as grown if you do not.” You know that too, but you can’t seem to get through to Mother. You’re not sure you ever will be able to. And you’re tired of attempting so.

“Well, it will cease to be much of a problem going forward, will it not?” Marigold asks. “Fussing during Solstices is easy enough to manage.”

You miss what Callalily says in reply because your eyes catch sight of an unnatural shadow. A long tail cuts across the ballroom floor and you follow it back to where Dale stands with Grandfather and your brother. You reverse, looking to see where it leads and spot the end on the buffet. It’s reared up onto the table and you swear there is a mouth on the end of it, trying to steal some cheese.

Your heart pounds at this blatant display. Someone’s going to notice sooner rather than later. How can you get Dale to be more subtle? He’s going to worry you to an early grave, illness be damned.

You need a reason to squash it or cover it up. Your eyes land on a familiar figure at a nearby table and you blurt out without thinking, “Lady Breighton!” She somehow hears you over the noisy crowd and looks over at you. In too deep, you link your arm with Marigold’s. Your sisters look startled and confused by your outburst, but you simply smile at them. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Dale’s aunt. She’s an avid admirer of sculpture, Marigold, and I’m certain she would enjoy conversing with you.”

“Oh, of course, ” Marigold still seems surprised that you’re the one trying to bring more people into a conversation, but she can’t resist talking about her art. She grins. “I’d be happy to.”

You head over to Breighton, keeping Marigold on one side and the buffet on the other side. Callalily slides her arm into Marigold’s other arm, which helpfully puts both of them further from the more obvious end of Dale’s most recent slip up. You can see that everyone seems to step over the shadow without thought, as if they instinctively know they shouldn’t touch it.

You deliberately step on the shadow tendril while simultaneously disposing of your napkin directly on top of the little mouth at the end. The texture of the shadow under your foot is somewhere between what you imagine a snake would feel like and pudding. It is profoundly unsettling. You're grateful you haven’t had anything to eat after all. You don’t look at Dale, but you’re relieved you don’t hear any sort of sound to signify what you did hurt him over much.

You concentrate so much on not looking at Dale that you introduce your sisters to Breighton without much thought, relying on the etiquette lessons drilled into you to get through it. Breighton does appear to pay greater attention when you mention Marigold’s passion, so you’re glad you didn’t guess wrong about her interest.

Only once the conversation has started, do you dare chance a look back over to Dale. He’s standing just where he had been, but there’s no longer a shadow connected to the buffet. He looks perfectly ordinary once more and you breathe a sigh of relief. Taking a grateful drink of the water glass Breighton has handed you, you can’t help but hope this gala is done sooner rather than later.

[Part Twenty-Seven]

#my writing #story: nothing's wrong with dale #nothing's wrong with dale #dale #story part #terato #exophilia #monster romance #monster bf #reader #male monster #osha compliant #slow burn #arranged marriage #migraines kept me unable to write when i usually did so this chapters late #but i had some additional time off work so its all good #also this chapter was challenging to write #but hopefully you like it!#let me know what you think!

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aihoshiino · 3 months

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chapter 143 thoughts!

remember when tokyo blade was the longest most drawn out arc of oshi no ko. remember when that was our metric. i want to go back to those blissfully innocent days.

This chapter falls in line with a lot of other chunks of the Movie Arc where as a standalone tidbit of the story there are things about it that I like but taken in the greater context of everything around it, I have decidedly more mixed feelings on it. This is very much "chapter 123… 2!" with all that statement implies. If you liked 123, this will probably be like crack cocaine for you but if you were hoping for a more concrete resolution to what's going on with Aqua and Ruby then you're probably in the same boat as me in terms of coming away feeling frustrated.

Lacking resolution aside, I did really like a lot of what we got in this chapter, both in terms of the twins' relationship and as individual characterisation for them both. Immediately what stood out to me was Aqua's avoidant response to… well, basically everything Ruby says up to a point. It's funny to remember that he was the one who called Ai out on avoiding important conversations and yet here he is doing the very same thing. Like mother like son, huh?

Ruby's first line is also interesting. It definitely makes sense for her to fear a separation from Gorou given that it's basically happened twice now, but her specific fear that if she doesn't affirm his existence it will simply vanish implies a certain lack of security in his presence that I think is very interesting. We haven't really gotten enough time in Ruby's head for me to really dig into what that means for her, but I'm putting a pin in it nonetheless.

Aqua's response here also lines up with my prediction last chapter that we were heading for a rejection. Even if indirectly, he spends most of this chapter trying to turn Ruby away and shut her down without actually addressing her proposition, which I really don't blame him for lmao. Free my boy. Even when he does finally give Ruby an inch, so to speak, and start playacting as Gorou, it doesn't feel at all like a sincere moment of self expression. He's indulging her with a facsimile of their old dynamic, sure, but the actual words he's saying aren't particularly encouraging.

Of course, that's not how Ruby sees things. Or rather… That's not how Sarina sees things. She spends more or less this entire chapter with no stars in her eyes whatsoever. This makes a very interesting contrast with Aqua who, even in the moments that he identifies most strongly with his past self, never loses his stars. In this chapter, "Gorou Amamiya" is never anything more than an act for him but Ruby seems to have entirely returned to being Sarina, at least in this space.

Aqua snarks about her mental age not changing and I think this is truer then you might assume - I do think Ruby goes through a bit of a regression in this chapter and I mean this in an entirely value neutral sense. If you've ever returned to a place or people that defined a certain period of your life, it's very easy to find yourself slipping back into the mindset and behaviours that characterized you at that time. The quickest and easiest example of this is probably a person who lives on their own going back to their childhood home to spend the holidays with their siblings and parents. For better or worse, a return to old dynamics means a return to that old headspace - and that's just for regular people without any reincarnation baggage in the mix.

Ruby's experiences as Sarina have always been extremely foundational to her as a person and at least as of the private audition, she is characterized as seeing herself equally as both girls. So in a situation like this where she's finally getting to see and talk to Gorou again, it makes sense for "Sarina" to have taken the lead here.

As I've talked about before, this difference in how they individually view their reincarnation and how it affects their sense of self is always something that's had the potential to cause friction between the twins and we see it here, I think. The two of them aren't quite on the same page.

That said, this is a sweet conversation. It touches on the unique position the twins are in to give each other closure in a way nobody else really can. That said, it does feel really weird that this talk just… never happened before? I guess you could argue that this is a make or break point for their relationship and it took them being really pushed to have this honest of a talk but even then, I can't think of any real reason it didn't come sooner other than "the author didn't want it to happen yet".

i do have to ask though. where did aqua get those glasses. has he been wearing contacts this entire series and we never knew??

The question of to what degree the twins should be considered the people they were before their reincarnation has been a pretty consistent subject of debate in the fandom, particularly as pertains to Aqua. Wherever you stand on the issue though, I think Aqua is right when he says the Gorou Sarina wants him to be is a person who no longer exists. Too much time has passed and way too much has happened. Even removing reincarnation from the equation, there's not a person on this earth who's the exact same as they were 20 years ago. Living changes you just as much as dying does. Even if some intrinsic, unchanging core still exists, his experiences as Aqua Hoshino have changed him way too much for the "Gorou Amamiya" Ruby wants to see to be anything more than a performance.

more absolutely goated expression work from Mengo, btw: that wonky, rueful smile when Aqua first takes off Gorou's glasses. Sooooo good.

It's also just so so good to finally get some insight into what's going on with Aqua after he's been out of focus for so long. It's also really fantastic to finally see him let his walls down a bit and admit to some of the turmoil rolling around in his head. I think this is part of why we see him slip back into a single white hoshigan here; while the stuff he's saying here is concerning, it's honest. Possibly the most honest Aqua has been for a good long while and him finally letting himself be vulnerable with someone he trusts could be a really good positive step for him.

I say could be because… well, I don't think Ruby quite has a handle on how to help Aqua here. She's not even thinking of helping Aqua after all; she addresses him (in the Japanese text) as 'sensei' over and over to an almost excessive degree. Not only that but her responses to him are a little…

The core of this talk between Aqua and Ruby is the idea that Gorou-as-Aqua has changed in a way that leaves him unable to perform the role he once played in her life, while Ruby argues that nothing has changed. And like… to a degree, both of them are right and wrong. Gorou's core values are something Aqua inherited from him and they continue to drive him. But it simply isn't true that nothing has changed. Like I said up above: twenty entire years of living changes a person even before you factor in the trauma of Ai's death and everything Aqua has done to himself and other people in the name of avenging her. But this is something Ruby is unwilling or unable to see.

More great paneling work from Mengo: When Sarina hesitantly asks if 'Sensei' likes her, there is a very pointed beat panel of Aqua's face with his eyes hidden before he pops the Gorou act back on and goes 'uhhh yeah sure'. Once again, we see 'Gorou Amamiya' as avoidance and insincerity at least in the context of this chapter. It's an act Aqua is half-heartedly putting on but to Ruby-as-Sarina, this is the miracle of their reunion happening again before her eyes. And if they're 'Gorou' and 'Sarina' right now, what happens next shouldn't be a surprise.

And… this is the part of the chapter where I stop having nice things to say. Because believe it or not, I don't mind the kiss and I think in the context of this chapter, it makes a lot of sense and it helps to have had the story finally, explicitly lay down that this is 'Sarina' pursuing 'Gorou', at least from Ruby's POV. I also really liked the framing; that clashing of tones returns again, with the double spread shoujo looking kiss ruined by Aqua's pin-eyed look of alarm and dismay. This is the moment of tension breaking transgression the series has been building up to for over 140 chapters…

And we immediately cut away from addressing it. For at least one more week. I'm going to be really honest… this fucking infuriated me! It feels like an implicit admission that this is going to be needlessly dragged out even longer even though we finally had the perfect opportunity to properly address and solidify what is even going on with Aqua and Ruby right now. It feels like cynical reaction bait. It feels like a roided up version of 123 - throwing AquRuby shippers scraps so they'll keep reading while also avoiding undeniably canonizing an incest ship to not scare off the wider audience. My man has created the Schroedinger's Cat of incest. Is the guy in the box nailing his sister or not? Well gosh, you'd better tune in next week and maybe you'll find out!!!!

In short, the lack of resolution just sucks and the fact that it really seems like we're just leaving things there and moving on to something else makes me want to scream. The Movie Arc has been such an unfocused mess for so many chapters now and this really just takes the cake. Like… remember when this was supposed to be about Ai? Remember when this was supposed to be about finally digging into her past and her private life? If half the stuff in the script is just made up then why am I even supposed to get invested in what's going on in the movie in the first place?

At this point, I just desperately want this arc to be done so we can move on. Say what you will about Tokyo Blade's pacing, but at least that was focused and cohered with itself on a week to week basis. The Movie Arc by contrast feels so far removed from any of the ideas we started with that I have no clue what to expect or anticipate from it going forwards or if I should even bother to try.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #chapter reviews #onk spoilers

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doctorcrowleywho · 2 years

Text

December 3. “Where did all of this mistletoe come from?” (crowley x reader x aziraphale)

25 Days of Ficmas - Day 3

“Where did all of this mistletoe come from?” (crowley x reader x aziraphale)

Word count - 1709

Warnings - Maybe a few curse words, and a few grammar mistakes (I wrote this at 3am!)

Pairing(s) - Crowley x gn! reader x Aziraphale

Summary - The husbands want to ask you out with Christmas style

When Aziraphale set his mind to something he wouldn’t stop until he saw it all the way through. Call him an old silly, but that’s just the way he did things as an angel. Of course, certain demons would always tempt him away from his work. But, that was just the price he paid when you had a literal demon for a partner, he had to make sacrifices to see those amazing fiery locks in bed.

For most of Aziraphale's existence, he believed Crowley was the only one that would ever be able to distract him from his angelic work. Which, in fairness just consisted of looking after his bookshop. However, that all changed the moment he met you.

He still remembered how adorable you looked as you wandered into his shop looking like a lost little puppy. It had been raining like crazy that afternoon, and you had run into his bookshop seeking some kind of refuge.

Confused about who could have possibly decided to come into his shop at a time like this, Aziraphale emerged from the back of his shop. Seeing you shivering immediately made his eyes soften. He quickly rushed towards you offering you every kind of comfort you could possibly imagine. Anything from a nice warm towel to (as he put it) the best hot cocoa you would ever have in your life. He was so kind you didn’t have the heart to deny his invitation to make you feel better, and he wasn’t lying about the hot chocolate.

Ever since that evening in Aziraphale's shop, you made it your mission to visit him at least once a day if you could. He was just so kind, you swore he was the personification of sunshine. It didn’t take you long to start to develop feelings for the angel. I mean how could you not, when every little smile from him made your heart do a professional gymnast routine?

A month after you met Aziraphale you met his demon partner. Which, at first caused your heart to sink a little bit. Seeing how close they were together made you assume that Aziraphle would probably just want to stay friends. Which, had to be fine with you. But, then you stumbled in on a conversation you probably weren’t supposed to hear.

“And how do we do that Crowley? ‘Hi, we’ve liked you since we met you and would like to take you on a date.’ It’s never that easy!” Aziraphale piped up and you felt yourself freeze. Are you sure you heard him right? He wasn’t talking about you was he?

“It is that easy! In fact, we’ll ask them tonight! I’ll show you just how easy it can be, Y/N won’t know what hit them!” Crowley chuckled proudly and you let out a soft gasp before running out of the store. You had to get home to reevaluate several parts of your life. However, you couldn’t fight the smile that was tugging at your lips.

Tonight was the night Aziraphale and Crowley were going to ask you out and they had to prepare. It was at that point Crowley realized he actually had no idea how to ask out a human. Apparently, you can’t just romantically pine after someone for 6,000 years- that style of flirting only works on specific angels.

So, Aziraphale turned to his books as he always does in a pinch. “Well it is the Christmas season, so why don’t we….” he trialed off as his fingers skimmed every book beginning with the letter ‘C’. “Ah there you are!” he smiled bringing out The very big book of Christmas Traditions

“This has to have something that could help us right?” he looked up realizing Crowley had wondered off to god knows where, so it was now apparently up to him to prepare the perfect date proposal…fantastic.

That’s when he found it! Mistletoe, reading up on it mistletoe is supposedly very romantic. Which was absolute perfection in his eyes, and it was even a type of plant. So, if Crowley wanted to take credit for some of it he absolutely could. Although, he secretly hoped he’d get the first kiss it was his idea after all.

From there he got to work. Busying himself by putting different sizes and types of mistletoe all throughout his shop. Stepping into his shop now, someone would think they were stepping into a greenhouse. Aziraphale created a strategic ‘getting someone to Christmas kiss you battle ground’, and you were the victim.

Of course, the angel saw nothing wrong with this. He only ever wanted to make you happy, and the Christmas season made everyone happy. Good lord, he hoped that this would put one of your famous smiles on your face. The kind that made your eyes crinkle and your head tilt. That was Aziraphals favorite, and often how he judged if a joke he said was actually funny.

Oh, how he and Crowley absolutely adored you. You were the first human that made the pair actually feel something. Of course, they loved and enjoyed humanity, especially enough to save it. But, when you came along you gave them purpose.

Having you in their lives was like God putting a third player into their game of chess. They didn’t expect it, but once they got used to it they never wanted you to leave.

Crowley sure as hell didn’t expect to like you this much, in fact he never expected to love anyone as much as he loved you and Aziraphale. But, it was the little things that went straight to his heart. The way your eyes would light up whenever you talked about something you loved, how you’d squeeze his hand before dragging him off when you saw something you ‘just had to have’, and especially how you made him feel safe. As if for a couple of moments he wasn’t evil, or wrong, or bad, he was just Crowley, and for you that was enough. He truly loved you.

“Angel I’m ho-” Crowley called out carrying a very nice bottle of fine wine and a lovely bouquet of flowers. Immediately he took off his glasses so he could examine what the heaven was going on here.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley hissed out having to step over some mistletoe placed on the floor for some odd reason. Sauntering to the back of the shop Crowley found his angel happily snapping his fingers as he made sure his office was properly covered in the plant. “Angel, would you like to explain what exactly is going on here? Why does your bookshop look like the jungles of the North Pole?”

“Well, I did some reading and the book said that if two people…or more,” Aziraphale wiggled his eyebrows at Crowley who let out an over-dramatic huff “, were underneath one then they have to kiss!” He finished beaming proudly.

“Was that book 50 Shades of Christmas?” Crowley rolled his eyes placing his sunglasses back on as he heard the front door open, but he assumed it was just a customer. Oh, that poor customer.

Aziraphale glared at Crowley as he straightened his bow tie “Honestly Crowley could you be a little bit more supportive? At least I didn’t wander off to who knows where, I had to do all the work!”

“I left to get some wine and flowers, so we could have a nice evening in and then ask them when the time is right!” Crowley hissed back placing the bottle and flowers on the counters and making sure to be as loud as possible. He was a demon he had to be dramatic.

“But it’s tradition!”

“It’s now a fire hazard!”

At this point the tensions were so high they didn’t even realize you were standing in the doorway of Aziraphale's office. If only you had brought your popcorn you thought to yourself, no longer were you embarrassed about all of this. Honestly, you were a little bit flattered, Aziraphale did all of this for you? He truly was the sweetest being in the universe.

Seeing them bicker like an old married couple over you was the cherry on top of an already perfect cake. “You know Crowley, you always have to do this, you have to go and be nice-” Azirpahale started, but Crowley effortlessly shoved him against the wall right next to you.

“What did I say about calling me nice?” he hissed darkly, and that’s when you decided to step in. As much as you’d like to see how far they’d get, you didn’t exactly want it turning to violence.

Clearing your throat you took a few steps closer gently removing Crowley's hands from Aziraphale's jacket. “Excuse me boys, but you’re doing it wrong,” you said with a soft smile on your face watching as both their heads turned to face you.

You then took it as your opportunity to strike “Oh look Aziraphale is that mistletoe?” you said softly before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It wasn’t long or passionate, but it was soft and oh-so-sweet. It was the kind of kiss that would make your heart melt if you weren’t careful.

As you pulled back you couldn’t help but giggle at his wide-eyed expression. But,you wasted no time as you turned towards Crowley “Oh look Crowley is that mistletoe too? What are the chances!” you beamed seeing a dumbfounded smile of his own on his lips.

“Oh just come here you silly little-” he didn’t even get to finish that sentence as your lips collided effortlessly. Now Crowley’s kiss was everything you expected it to be. Sugar and spice and everything nice. As you pulled back you had to take a moment to catch your breath.

“Wait does this mean that you’re…that we’re….oh my dear.” Aziraphale chuckled to himself in utter disbelief. His plan actually worked this time, which was an utter surprise.

Quickly he pulled both you and Crowley in for a tight hug, and you relaxed knowing you had exactly what you wanted for Christmas right here. “Where did all of this mistletoe come from?” you wondered out loud.

“Long Story-”

“Don’t ask.”

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nkirukaj · 1 month

Text

The Radio Demon & the Billboard Doe (15)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing; Sexual implications

Genre: Angst/Fluff (& Humor!)

Word Count: 5K

<Chapter 14

15. Stargazing

He’s a huge fan of ballroom dancing

asked me to dance during the hotel’s party

😱😱😱

what happened?

uhhh

he just breathed on my face??

😂😂😂

oh! he squeezed my waist when he dipped me

Oooh. didn’t know the RD was freaky 😉

good job.

“Spill,” Angel Dust trapped Voe in a corner

“Spill what?” She feigned innocence

“You know what! You fuckin’ Smiles?”

“What?” She slipped out of the corner he had her in and started walking away “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie, Niffty told us she saw him go in your room and then heard moaning and shakin’ last night.”

She furrowed her brows and looked down “Niffty, what the fuck?”

She giggled maniacally “The noises help me sleep.” Her tone is eerie as hell

“Despite what Niffty may or may not have been eavesdropping to, I deny all claims I am being accused of. Besides, even if she did hear those things who say it was fucking?”

Angel looked around like she was an idiot “What else would y’all be doin’?”

“Maybe talking? If you wanna know so bad, you should ask him.”

“I am not asking Freaky Face about what he does with his dick!” He makes that last part a whisper

“Well then I guess you’re outta luck pal.” She shrugs

Normally she’d have no issues discussing who she was fucking and how, but among the pillow talk, Alastor had outlined one specific request for her.

“May I ask a favor of you, my dear?”

She turned her head to him as she lay on her stomach “Hmm?”

“I’m well aware of your tendency to gossip, but I require that you refrain from telling anyone about this, or any of these ‘excursions’ we will have.”

“Mhmm. Why? Are you ashamed of me?” She asks teasingly

He pokes out his nose, opening one eye “I believe that this is something intimate and there are some things you just shouldn’t discuss with others. We are the only ones who need to know about this, clear?”

“Alright,” she says before lulling off into sleep.

When she awoke, he and his clothes were gone. No trace of him ever having been there. She wondered how this day would go when she saw him. How would he act around her now? She was lowkey excited to see him, but it was Angel she ran into first.

“C’mon, I won’t tell nobody!” Angel tried to bargain with her

“There’s nothing to tell,” Voe crossed her arms and tried to keep her smirk down, but she wasn’t sure if she was succeeding

“You know what, whatever. It’ll slip. I’ll get you one day toots,”

She turns her back to him “Mhmm,”

“Or I could find out about it from somewhere else,”

“Uhuh, sure.”

Voe’s ears twitch wildly when she hears Alastor come down the stairs. His grin was wider than ever before, looking refreshed and well-rested, despite most likely not having slept. He stands tall as he reaches the parlor and approaches Charlie in conversation.

“Well well well, look who it is!” Angel turned to Voe “He looks different, wouldn’t you agree toots? A lot fresher and brighter huh?”

“Yes, indeed.”

She watched him past Angel where he was engrossed in his conversation with the princess. He kept stealing glances at her however, his eyes darting towards her direction on multiple occasions, and he adjusted his collar, adjusting his grin almost imperceptively to something more smug. Voe approaches the two of them with intention.

“Sorry Charlie, I need to borrow Alastor for a moment,” Voe interjects

“Oh, no problem!” Charlie goes over to the other side of the room

Alastor turns his attention to the doe, his smile turning playful “Good morning,”

“Good morning to you as well, sir!” Voe’s eyes brighten when she looks at him

His hands are placed squarely behind his back as he leans slightly forward “What is it that you need, my dear?”

“I seem to be missing a certain garment that I distinctly remember leaving on my bedroom floor.” she whispers “Any idea of where it might be?”

He puts his finger on his chin “And just why do you think that I would be aware of the location of that garment?”

“I just thought as the facility manager, you would make it your business to know what goes on in these halls…and in these rooms,”

“Unfortunately my dear, I seem to have let this one thing slip through my fingers. I am dreadfully sorry, I promise to do much better next time.”

She steps closer, her voice lowering in volume “I also figured you would know considering that your clothes were missing right along with it.”

“Why would my clothes be in your bedroom?”

Voe’s eyes and smile widen, thoroughly amused by this conversation. She gestures for him to bend down and he does “I never took you for a panty thief my good sir,” she smirks

“Whatever are you referring to my Belle?” His eyes glint with mischief “I do not recall any thievery on my part.” He leans in to whisper directly into her ear “I will say however, that if I were to be the culprit that..collected your undergarments, then it would not have been for the thrill of theft, but for their delectable scent.”

She was a little frustrated because that pair made her feel extra sexy, but also amused that he was that obsessed with how she smelled.

“I don’t think Charlie would be happy to know that her facility manager is stealing from guests rooms,”

He leans forward on his cane “I also don’t think Charlie would be happy to know a certain guest is sleeping with her father,”

She gasps “Bite me,” she shot at him

“Careful my dear, I just might.” Alastor’s golden grin shined in the light

“Ugh, yes Daddy” Voe moans with absolutely no change in expression

“I swear they’re fuckin’” Angel whispered to Husker over at the bar

Husk has his back to the spider “Nah, boss doesn’t fuck,”

“There’s something different about ‘em can’t you see it?”

The cat glances over at the pair “All I see is a sick freak toying with his food. And the food’s too head over heels to notice.”

“Aww c’mon, he can’t possibly be changing?”

Husk stares at Angel, sliding him a drink, his expression not changing “She’s not that special. Nobody is.”

______________________________________________________________

Walking back to her room, Voe spots Niffty stabbing at the carpet, chasing after a particularly quick bug, and is completely overjoyed when she finally catches it. She laughed maniacally and didn’t seem to notice Voe standing and watching.

She approaches the little cyclops “Hi Niffty,”

She looks up, holding the bug on her needle “Hi Mommy!” she pants and waves the needle

“I haven’t checked in with you in a while. How are you?” she squats in front of the little demon, genuinely interested in her conversation

“I’m good. I got a bug! See?” she shows it to Voe

She smiles, backing away from the needle “Now you can it to your puppet show,”

“No! That’s old news! Now I’m making roach kabobs! For everyone!”

Voe purses her lips “Hmm. Can I ask you something?”

“No, I don’t do anything while you sleep! I just watch,” she waves her off

“Well, uh no. Not that. Now I’m definitely buying that padlock. But why did you tell Angel that you heard moaning and shaking in my room?”

“Because I did!”

“Right, but why did tell him that?”

She giggles “Why not?”

Voe sits on the floor “What did you think it was?”

“You having sexy times with a bad boy!”

“You mean, Lucifer?”

She taps her chin “There are lots of bad boys in Hell!”

“Who else do you call a bad boy?”

“Lots of people!”

“Like who?”

“Lucifer, Husk, Alastor. They’re all my bad boys!”

She tilts her head “Is that why you let him own you? Because he’s a bad boy?”

“No!”

“Why then?”

Niffty thinks for a few minutes “I have no idea!” she laughs “I don’t remember!”

Voe smiles “But he treats you well, yes?”

She nods “Yep! Alastor is very nice! He listens to me talk! Sometimes I climb on his head! Or I show him the bugs I’ve collected! But he won’t let me take some of his hair though,”

“How long have you known Alastor?”

“My entire life!”

“Hmm?”

Niffty nods “Mhmm! Forever and ever and ever!”

“And how do you feel about him?”

“He is the sweetest guy!”

“But he’s a bad boy?”

“Yeah…” she grins menacingly

Voe leans forward “How do you feel about me?”

“You’re wonderful Mommy!” Niffty hugs her leg

Voe puts her hand on the smaller woman’s back “Niffty, why do you call me Mommy?”

She perks up “Because Alastor is like dad! So you’re like Mom!”

“How so?”

“You argue and fight like you’re married, and you can’t stay away from each other!” Niffty crawls up her leg and bites it.

Voe only mildly reacts to the bite “Do you think I like Alastor?”

“No! I think he likes you! Just like my real Mom and Dad!” Niffty steps on Voe’s lap and rips out a piece of her hair

“Ah! FUCK!” Voe rubs her scalp

Niffty scampers off “For my collection! Good night Mommy!”

______________________________________________________________

“So are you actually not going to give them back?” she comes up behind Alastor as they both descend the stairs, her on a higher step

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Alastor,”

His ears tilt back “I’m afraid I don’t, my dear”

“My panties Alastor! My panties!”

He turns around quickly and places a finger to his lips “Shh. Remember what I asked of you, my dear?”

She lowers her voice “You have to give them back eventually,”

“And why would that be? If I had them,”

She leans forward, closer to his face “They’ll stop smelling like me eventually. Then what will you do?”

“I suppose that if I had your undergarments, I could throw them out once they stopped smelling so fondly,”

She stomps “No! Give them back!” she pouts “That’s my sexy pair!”

“You don’t need undergarments to be sexy,” he waves her off

She runs in front of him “So I’m already sexy?” she winks

He fakes shock “You didn’t know?” he walks past

She blushes, running to keep up with him. “I talked to Niffty last night?”

“Mhmm?”

“She said you’re ‘like dad’ and that I’m ‘like mom’”

Alastor stops in his tracks and turns his head downward “And what else did she say?”

Voe suddenly felt a bit self-conscious, now directly under the demon’s gaze, which was strange given that they had now been past the point where they had seen each other naked.

It takes her a moment to gather her words “Just that we remind her of her real parents,” she told him

Alastor turns his head back up to look forward and says “Hmm,”

Oddly enough, though she had gone into the interaction with the intention of telling him everything, seeing his piercing gaze made her want to keep part of it to herself. Specifically, the part where Niffty said that he likes her. She didn’t want reality to come in and ruin it. She wanted to live, at least a little longer, with the idea that he liked her for a little while longer. She didn’t want to admit that she wanted him to like her, but she also didn’t want him to say something mean and shatter the glass so to speak, or hurt her feelings. So she let him walk away, content with her imagination, at least for now

“Hey, toots!” Angel ran up to her breathing slightly heavily, breaking her fantasy

She stands up straight “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I got something, that you gotta see!” He grabs her arm, not waiting for an answer, and drags her out of the hotel, down the hill, past the broken streets, the blazing sidewalks, and the raging turf wars to the center of Pentagram City. Once they reach it, he lets her arm go. Voe looks around and sees the same old violence and chaos as always.

“What Angel, I see this all the time,” she flattens her brows in frustration

He rolls his eyes “I know that you’re so close to the ground, but look up toots!”

She purses her lips but obliges to his instructions. Upon looking up she saw a tall building adorned with an ostentatious billboard atop it, the billboard reading ‘Respectless by Velvette’, on a white background, and to the right side was the photo of her from the photoshoot she had done with the other models, with her squatting in the pink two-piece with her back to the camera and her face turned towards it. On the right side was her posing with the hot pink whip.

Voe was absolutely speechless staring at herself up there on that sign. She looked at Angel who grinned at her, then looked back at the billboard, she couldn’t believe this was real. A demon bumped into her when walking past and Angel yelled “Hey you walking into a celebrity here!” he pointed up to the billboard

She scoffs at first and then she sees Voe’s face and gasps “Are you Voe the Beau?”

“Yeah!” Voe answers almost more excited than she

“Can I get an autograph?”

“Yeah!” she looks around for something to write with and Angel materializes a marker

“Word to the wise, always carry a sharpie,” he winks at her “You’re gonna need it,”

The demon opens her jacket, implying that she wants Voe to sign her boobs and Voe does, her mind disconnected from her body as other demons stopped to stare and started walking up to her more and more of them asking for autographs and selfies.

The next two weeks were a blur. Suddenly she was everywhere and everyone wanted something from her. She was on the news, in the paper, on taxis in magazines, follower count blowing up, and brand deals on Sinstagram. If this was everything she could get just from telling her boss some little teeny facts about Alastor, then it was worth it. Even Alastor himself would agree that was a fair trade, she convinced herself. Her face was everywhere. She knew that it would all be fine, and it was a dream. HER dream and nothing could ruin it for her.

he hasn’t admitted to it yet, but i swear he stole my panties

ew creepy

def telling Vox 😭

Voe didn’t know how to respond to that message, she’d meant it as something to laugh at, she didn’t see it as something creepy at all, but maybe she was wrong.

“Voe,” Alastor calls from the top of the stairs, she looks up from her phone to face him “I require your immediate assistance.”

Voe takes her time climbing up the stairs to him. “Yes?” She asks once she gets to him. He snaps, sending them to her room.

She sighs “What do you need?”

She’s slammed against the wall and rushed with hands, lips, and teeth all over her body. Alastor wasted no time this go round, he knew what he needed and how to get it.

There was no talking this time, only the sounds of wet slapping and heavy breathing. As she moans he slides his tongue into her open mouth and their lips collide, he swallows her loud moans, her kissing him back with her plump soft lips, mouths moving in sync. She grabs his hair as they kiss, needing something to hold onto while he went to town in her pussy.

He raises his head to growl “Vera…” in her ear and she grips his body tighter in response.

Voe sits upright on the side of the bed, staring off into space.

Alastor sneaks up behind her on the bed and leans down to her ear. “What’s wrong, my dear?” He breathes into it, caressing her arm, then diverting his attention and hands to her hair.

Voe snaps out of her trance to say “You kissed me,” he is busy pulling her hair back from her shoulders. “You kissed me.” She repeats turning to look at him.

“Oh, yes I suppose I did. Is there an issue?” He raises his brow, his red eyes piercing into hers.

“You’ve never kissed me before,”

“Well sure I have!” He gestures wildly as he normally does “I kissed you on the hand when we first met!”

She turns completely around “On the lips asshole.“ she wanted to sound annoyed, but she couldn’t help but smile. “You kissed me on my lips. Multiple times,” she purses her lips “with tongue.” She accentuates the last word “I didn’t even know you knew how to do that.” She teases him

“Well yes, I suppose that I do have some skills that others are unaware of. I am a bag of tricks”

She wasn’t listening to him at this point, his tone was that of a performance, and she wasn’t his target audience.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to see what it felt like.”

“And…”

“I would say that it’s one of the more…enjoyable things I’ve experienced.”

“So you liked it?”

It takes him a moment to answer “Yes.”

She crawls over to him on the bed “Come here,” she says

They lean into each other, lips pressing gently, then aggressively. Alastor grips her hair and Voe holds his chin as he slips his tongue into her mouth once more. When they pull apart Alastor smiles and says

“Yes. That was pleasant,”

“Have you ever thought about eating me?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re a cannibal, right? So have you ever thought about eating me?”

He ponders. “Yes,”

“Well, what stopped you?”

He flattens his brows “You’re much too pretty, my dear”

She laughs “You don’t eat me because I’m pretty?”

“Not just because you’re pretty. Because you’re too pretty. I can’t stand the idea of not having you to look at.”

“Have you ever thought that about anyone else?”

“No,”

She laughs “So you’ll look at attractive people and think ‘dinner’?”

Alastor turns over on his side “You’re thinking of it as if I consider people’s level of attractiveness when I seek to eat.”

“You considered mine,”

“Yes, but I’ve already explained that you are a special case. I do not seek attractive people when I am hungry, I seek who or whatever seems to satisfy my taste buds at the time, and I consider how hungry I am at the moment,”

“Do you also eat the meat raw?”

“Sometimes,” Alastor sits up “What about you?”

Voe raises her eyebrow “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever tasted human flesh?”

“No, it’s not on my palette, thanks.”

“You should, it’s quite delectable.”

“Yeah no, I’m good.”

“Your loss,”

She sits up with him “What exactly causes a person to decide that human flesh is their go-to meal?”

“It’s like trying a new food. Sometimes you see something that you think you might enjoy so you try it.”

“Yeah, but like why? Like, what about human flesh did you see and think ‘that might be worth a try’?” she imitates his accents

“I didn’t start cannibalism until I got to Hell. It was my sixth or seventh victim, and once you’re in Hell why not try anything?”

She purses her lips “Okay, fine. But why raw?”

“It’s got a certain satisfying slippery, slimy taste going down,”

Voe grimaces “That sounds disgusting,”

“Don’t knock it until you try it, my dear.”

She lets out a dissatisfied grunt.

______________________________________________________________

“He said that the raw meat has like a satisfying slippery feeling going down?” She offered, but the Vees rolled their eyes

“No offense love, but that’s not really news. There’s a whole town of cannibals down here in Hell, it’s not very interesting.” Velvette responded

“Do you have anything else?” Vox asked sounding on the brink of a breakdown

Valentino slivered next to her “Preferably something sexy,”

“For fuck’s sake Valentino can you stop being horny?” Velvette smacks her forehead

“No,” he wiggles his tongue at her

“I can’t believe this,” Vox starts pacing in a circle “All we asked for was some information on Alastor. I didn’t think that was SO DIFFICULT, but APPARENTLY IT IS! ARE YOU EVEN TRYING?” Vox rushes up to her face

She was startled, unable to respond by the amount of tension being up on her so quickly.

“HELLO? GOD, VELVETTE DID YOU BRING US AN IDIOT?!”

Velvette sighs “Ugh Vox, calm down! You’re giving me a headache. She’s not an idiot.” She turns to Voe “You’re telling me that you haven’t heard anything else? C’mon, now I’m vouching for you.”

Voe’s eyes dart between each of the Vees, she can feel them losing faith in her, thinking she’s stupid or incapable. She can see all that she’s worked for, all that she’s dreamed of, disappearing, and she could think of nothing.

“THIS IS A WASTE OF TIME!!” Vox puts his hands on his head “If you stop being useful at this, maybe we can use you for something else. Val?” He glances at the moth, who grins in satisfaction.

Sweat dripped down all of Voe’s crevices, under her pits, her boobs, and even her cheeks. Her whole body was warm at the terrifying thought of being owned by Valentino.

“I remembered something,” She blurts out

The Overlords turn to her as they wait for her word.

“The housekeeper, Niffty. I was talking to her and she said that she thinks he likes me!”

“Thinks or knows?” Vox leans into her personal space

She gulps as more sweat trickles down her face “He sniffs my panties!”

The room is quiet for a second or more, and then the Vees start laughing.

“Ohh, now I know why you’ve been holding back gossip!” Voe’s eyes widen “Do you like the Radio Demon?”

“No!” She answers quickly

Valentino cackles “Aww poor Alastor,” he purrs into her ear “You’re playing him like a fiddle,” he bites his lip “You’re a bad girl” he licks her hand “Never thought I’d pity the Radio Demon,”

“Yes nothing more poetic than a woman being the one to destroy a powerful man,” Velvette’s grin is far from innocent

“Good girl,” Vox pats her head between her ears

“But if you mess up again,” Val turns her head to him “you’re all mine.”

“Fuck off Val, you all need to get out. Not you sweetie,” she holds Voe’s arm

When the men leave, Velvette turns to her “You alright? You look like you’ve had a fright,”

Voe nods wordlessly

“Don’t worry about them,” Velvette cups her cheek “Just focus on your mission alright? I won’t let them take you away from me, okay babe?”

Voe nods along with her, so terrified of what would happen if she didn’t start talking this more seriously.

______________________________________________________________

“Voe! Someone’s at the door for you!” Charlie yelled

She skips down the stairs up to the front door, taking a bag from the man who’s eyes widened upon the sight of her “Excellent,” she goes to close the door. “Wait,” the delivery demon stopped her “Aren’t you Voe the Beau?”

“Yeah,” she closes the door in his face. She looks into the bag “Amazing,” Voe starts walking back up to the stairs, making eye contact with Alastor and motioning for him to follow. He does, once he approaches her he speaks

“What’s that? More fan mail or gifts?”

She turns to him “It’s actually for you,”

Alastor raises his eyebrows and reaches for the bag, which Voe pulls away from him. “You said this it was for me, my dear.”

“It is, but I guarantee that you’re going to want to be out of earshot of everyone else when you see what it is. Send us to my room”

He places his hand on her shoulder and does as she asks, once there he removes his hand.

“Sit.” She commands, and he obliges, turning his cane into nothingness. She turns his head to make him look in the mirror “Alastor. Look at yourself. You’re tall, dark, and very hot- at least by my standards” his large grin turns smug “You’re charming and enticing. A true gentleman.” She holds his chin “practically untouchable, and radiating power. That is why I like you. You are so close to being the perfect man.” She turns his face to make him look at her “But your breath smells…like…SHIT! It’s disgusting. Smells like a dead and rotting animal took a fucking dump on your tongue and then you swallowed it, and let it ruminate. You need to brush your fucking teeth and tongue. Hell, you need to swallow the whole fucking container of mouthwash. This is not debatable. And not up for discussion. You’re sexy as fuck, but I am not kissing you again until you take care of that!” She thrusts the tools into his hands, and his grin becomes tense, stretching the limits of what counts as a smile.

“We have a deal, my dear. You agreed to provide me with your company.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to kiss you. I can do that without even getting close to you.” She stood in front of him defiantly “Like, what’s your beef with oral hygiene? Geez, you’d be a lot more intimidating if your breath smelled good. But whatever, you can continue to stink if you like, but that means no more kissing.” She starts to walk away, leaving him staring after her. She turns to stare back at him with a smug grin, her words oozing with power “Your choice.”

“Alright, my dear. You’ve twisted my arm.”

She shoves the bag into his hands, it’s filled with toothbrushes, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash, lip scrub, and moisturizer. He holds up the latter two things in confusion.

“What? Don’t give me that spiel about manliness. A well-groomed man is more attractive and an attractive man is more intimidating. I guarantee it. You want to send shivers down people’s spines? Brush them teeth!” He rolls his eyes “You can start now!” he exits her room with the bag in tow “Going to the bathroom I hope!” but he’s already gone, slammed the door and all. “Well, he took the stuff, that’s a good sign.”

She takes out her phone to text Velvette:

I just had to give Alastor a lesson on oral hygiene

😂

Voe heads down to bar to get herself another drink. She didn’t really drink this often while alive, but she loved to rub it into Husk that he was now obligated to make them for her. He groans when he sees her coming. She smiles at his reaction.

“You already know what I want cat man,”

Husker rolls his eyes and makes her the drink, sliding it to her forcefully, as if intentionally trying to spill it.

“Don’t do that, I wouldn’t want to have to tell your boss about you throwing a tantrum over a drink,” she tilts her head

“Calm down princess, your drink’s right there.”

“Still,” she takes a sip from it “You could’ve spilled it, and that’s not good at all.” She tsks the cat

The cat does not respond, returning to cleaning bottles as she watches him while sipping from the glass

“Was becoming a bartending cat your dream? Or did you just happen to be an alcoholic who knows how to mix drinks?”

“Did you come down here just to fuck with me?”

She thinks about the question “Yes,”

“You and Boss deserve each other,”

“What in Hell are you yapping about now cat?”

He slaps his paws on the counter “What I’m ‘yapping’ about is hearing about you and Boss fucking,”

Voe’s face drops “Where did you hear that?” she sips her drink, the rest of her body still

“Angel,”

She scoffs “Angel doesn’t know what he’s talking about,”

“And neither does Niffty?”

She looks up over her glasses “No,”

“Right. Like I said you two deserve each other. You and that sick bastard.”

She rims the glass “What’s it to you anyway?”

“Look everyone in this hotel knows that you and him are doing stuff together. Half of us just know you’re fucking and the other half can see for what it is. You trying to change and fix him into your ‘perfect toy’. It’s not gonna happen! Better find somebody else to make your new project. He is not the type to play house,” he looks away from her “Before you become his plaything,”

“He’s not a project! I’m not trying to fix him! Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe..” she slaps her hand on the bar counter “I like him fucked up?”

“But why?”

“Maybe I’m fucked up too?”

He scoffs “You? Miss millions of followers?”

She crosses her arms “Yeah? What about it?”

“The only thing fucked up with you is that you like him,” he says cleaning the bottom of the glass

Voe leans on the bar counter “Y’all only see what I want you to see,”

“Uh huh, whatever,”

“At least I’m treated fairly,”

He laughs “You think the Vees are treating you fairly? They’re giving you what you want because you’re giving them what they want.”

She squints her eyes “How do you know?”

“You’re the only fool who doesn’t know about the Vees and decided to go and work for ‘em. You think you’re so smart but you’re not. You’re just a dumb kid who thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“I am not dumb, nor a kid.”

“Could’ve fooled me,”

She laughs dryly “Yeah well, it’s easy to fool an alcoholic,”

Husk gives her the side eye as if responding to her would be beneath him.

“What?!”

He smirks at her “What what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that??”

“What’s the matter? You can stare at people, but I can’t stare at you?”

She purses her lips “I don’t like how you’re looking at me,”

“Aw,”

Voe slides the glass across the counter, hearing it shatter on the floor “Oops,” she says walking away from the bar.

She lies on the bed in her room, covering herself with a blanket. Even when she put the cover over the top of her head, she couldn’t help but feel so naked and vulnerable. It was uncomfortable, almost painful. She never ever wanted to feel that way again.

Chapter 16>

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henrikvanderhussy · 8 months

Text

Okay, we've gotta talk about The Silent Spy. I didn't remember much about it before replaying, and you never really see anyone calling it their favorite game, so I knew it wasn't going to be great, but I was still disappointed.

Similar to The Shattered Medallion, which I talked about here, I do think there's a GOOD game in there somewhere, but it's bogged down in some really messy structural problems.

Those problems are also very similar to MED's problems, which makes sense since MED was the next release after SPY. Just like in MED, the character interactions were all over the fucking place. I felt like I had the same conversation with each character about 12 times. Asking Moria "What was the Colony operation?" I dunno Nancy, maybe you could have figured it out from the newspaper article, the archives database, the info from every other character, or the papers at the cabin. And it feels like this is something that would have been relevant way earlier in the game.

But then at the same time, there are these bizarre jumps where it seems like you've missed conversations. We're asking Ewan if we should trust Alec when we've never even talked to Ewan about Alec before and there's no reason they should know each other.

Speaking of feeling like I missed stuff, the poem was the worst. "I need the full color copy of my mom's Jabberwocky poem" Girl, what Jabberwocky poem?? Apparently it was in Nancy's luggage, but the luggage gets stolen immediately when you start the game and we have no idea what's inside of it. She briefly says something to Alec about a poem, but that was after Nancy already noted she needed it to solve a puzzle.

Also similar to MED, there was such a weird manufactured sense of urgency. I was soooo very frustrated by the tests set by Revenant. I got the first call and thought "hmm, not sure what choice I want to make. I'll poke around at some other things first and then decide if I want to follow their instructions or not." Then all of a sudden I get a call saying that I've failed their test.

How was I supposed to know there was a time limit? What was the time limit based on anyway? Was it a literal amount of real-world time? Did I trigger another plot point in the game that ended the window? Hell if I know

The result is that you're left feeling like things could end or change at any moment and you have to do them quickly, but also simultaneously feeling as if it doesn't matter since obviously the game will continue anyway if you miss anything time-sensitive.

A weird combo of both stressed and 'eh fuck it'. Thanks I hate it.

This post is getting longer than I planned, but here's the thing, I actually think these problems could have been addressed with a really simple fix: Let Nancy sleep.

If the call from Revenant says "you have until midnight to give us what we want," then the player knows that if they want to follow the instructions, they need to do it before sending Nancy to bed.

If all of that weirdness in character conversations was because I was talking to characters and doing things out of the intended order, then structure the game so that certain things need to happen before you can go to bed ("I can't sleep yet, I have to xyz!"). Then make it so other actions can't happen until the next day. VOILA, problem solved.

You still want the structure to be somewhat loose to allow the player to explore, and so not everything should be confined to specific days, but it would allow linearity in the things that do need to be linear.

Nancy has a hotel room! There's already a bed and everything! It would have been simple to put in a sleep mechanic, just like in so many of the other games.

Look, I'm not a game designer, so I'm definitely speaking more confidently than I have any right to, but I just feel like the problems in The Silent Spy are fixable! And I really wish they had been fixed!

#the silent spy #cluecrewplaythru #nancy drew games #clue crew #my other hot take is that they should never have put in a fast convo option #because everyone talks waaaaay too much in the games that have it #when the writers knew that players would have to sit through the dialogue they made it more concise #instead of sprawling and repetitive

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yenonnoff · 11 months

Text

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 02. vroom vroom! im here

you blinked, then paused. the letters on your screen swirled chaotically, the alcohol in your stomach twisting in a similar motion.

you drank too much, but that's what always happens when you visits kenma's place.

earlier, you and your friends dined at a fancy restaurant, now you were occupying kenma's sizeable living room with board games scattered across his coffee table. the moment shoyo brought up the idea, you knew instantly it was going to be a mistake. because while freely indulging oneself with liquor was restricted at the restaurant, kenma’s abode had no such rules. even if he was against it, his friends would never listen—therefore they could drink as much as they want, whenever they want.

you have seen it happen many times before: your friends, mainly kuroo (and yourself), going haywire after drinking. if they went to his place, the same thing would happen—and unfortunately it did. it got so bad kenma even brought shoyo outside, claiming they should “buy additional snacks” at the convenience store nearby. an excuse, you were sure of it.

still… that didn't dismiss the fact that you and kuroo were the main reason he wanted to leave so desperately.

kuroo, intoxicated with a glass in his hand, currently sat unfazed on the living room floor. he was rambling to shimizu, and despite him slurring his words every now and then, she listened attentively with snowball on her lap. shimizu doesn’t drink often but when she does she handles herself well, unlike a certain person blabbering about their day.

you were disconnected from the conversation, distracted by the two salient words on your phone. they were the only words you could distinguish in your drunken state, words you were extremely familiar with. you continued to blink, even rubbing your eyes hastily to discern whether or not you were hallucinating. on your screen, you read the two words over and over again: “Director Sage.”

earlier, when the three of you agreed on a break midway through their intense game of monopoly, you had habitually reached for your phone. your screen was flooded with twitter notifications. when you pressed on them, you were directed to one specific tweet. you skimmed through the text, disinterested until those familiar words caught your eye.

your line of logic was overridden by alcohol thus the content barely registered in your mind. with no other choice you reached over towards kuroo, shoving your phone in front of his face.

taken-aback, he could only mutter, “what...?”

“what does it say?”

you waited impatiently as kuroo paused and squinted his eyes. they trailed from side to side for a while until he just blinked at you, and shrugged.

you quickly retracted your hand, sighing deeply. you forgot how hopeless your friend gets when he's drunk. you should’ve asked someone more collected, someone who wasn’t totally hopeless.

“shimizu,” you sent a glance to your friend who was distractedly petting snowball. “mind reading what this tweet says?”

shimizu peered up in an instant, smiling and grabbing your phone. before long she was done reading, but now her eyes were strangely widened and sparkling with bewilderment.

you simply stared at her, tilting your head with flushed cheeks.

“y/n… director sage is working on producing a new romance film!”

you could hear the excitement in shimizu’s voice. after all, this was the golden opportunity for you to work with the director that's produced all your favorite films. you don't remember how long you've been dreaming of this day—of this moment. so when the words finally registered in your mind, you crushed shimizu in a warm, yet excruciatingly tight hug.

all rationality was tossed out the window. right now, you just wanted to relish this moment of exhilaration with your friend in your arms.

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

when kenma and shoyo returned, y/n and the others resumed their monopoly game like nothing happened.

shimizu won that round because one, kuroo and y/n were drunk; two, y/n teamed up with shimizu (kuroo made many complaints).

snowball surprisingly likes kuroo

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: did u guys notice that im a carat i threw in some signs here and there. tbh the beginning was supposed to be in the first chapter but it would've been too long 😡 thank u to everyone reading my smau!! i cry and sob every time i see a notification

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @moonplethxra @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl

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recurring-polynya · 2 months

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Idk if you’ve answered this question (sorry if you have) before, but how do you think Renji & Rukia first met ? What do you think their life was like originally before Soul Society ?

Pardon me if I'm reading this wrong, but...Rukia and Renji's first meeting is enshrined pretty thoroughly in canon? She rescued him from a water heist that was about to turn disastrous.

This is from Chapter 98/Episode 32: A Star and a Stray Dog, which is the first place you should be looking if you're interested in pre-canon Renruki lore.

As to the second part of your question...you mean before they died? What sort of lives did they have in the World of the Living?

I'm gonna pontificate, so I'll throw that under a cut

First off, I am fascinated with the fact that Kubo gives us nothing about what anyone's living life was like. On one hand, I would like to know everyone's pre-history, but on the other, I'm glad he didn't, like as a literary choice. The slate is supposed to be wiped clean. It doesn't matter. It's maddening, but also correct.

It's also one of those places that is just ✨fanfic free real estate✨ in terms of I think everyone should make up their own version for their blorbos, so of course I have them for Renji and Rukia. I have absolutely nothing to support these, they are just what I felt in my heart.

I have actually talked about Renji's beforedeath quite a bit, here and there in various fanfics, usual under the conceit that, particularly in their Inuzuri days, he would sometimes blurt out some half-remembered thing and then promptly forget it again. Here an excerpt from Chapter 3 of go places:

It’s an Alive Memory, Rukia is nearly certain. Most souls get them. All the boys did, from time to time. To Renji, it’s just brain dust. Whatever it is in Soul Society that makes people forget their lives also makes this memory detritus slippery to hold onto. Renji won’t think of this later, or attach any importance to this conversation. The funny thing is, after ten years of watching him stumble through these moments, Rukia probably has a better idea of what Renji’s life was like than he does. He lived on a farm of some sort. A small one, or at least his family grew a lot of their own food. He died of a fever. Nearly all of his Alive Memories involve his mother. Rukia is almost positive that Renji’s mother is the one who taught him to write. The sewing scissors were likely hers. In Rukia’s imagination, Renji’s mother is very tall and beautiful and kind. Rukia doesn’t need to use her imagination to know that Renji loved his mother very much.

Just to offer a little more detail--doing the math out, where Bleach starts in the early 00s, Rukia and Renji have been separated for 40 years and knew each other for 10 years before that, it would make a lot of sense for both of them to have died in WWII. However, I like to think that time is very wobbly, especially in the outer Rukon, so I like to make their deaths a little earlier-- specifically, I think that Renji died in the 1918 flu pandemic, which may have contributed to getting a plague spirit for a zanpakutou. That being said, my general vibe for his childhood is based on Kanta, the neighbor kid from My Neighbor Totoro, which takes place in the 50s. In any case, he had a pretty small and unremarkable life in rural Japan, aside from the fact that he was loved very much, which will never be unremarkable, no matter how common it may be.

I have written less about Rukia's beforedeath, mostly because she was too young when she died to have any phantom memories. [Note: I know there are some theories out there, based on some arcane clues that Kubo has dropped that Rukia may not actually be a normal soul and may be related to Hell. That's...fine. While I'm never going to say no to a storyline that centers Rukia, I really do hope that it comes to naught. Ichigo has enough Crazy Origin going on and I like the Rukia's backstory the way it is, so I'm just going to ignore all of that for the sake of this post]. Ahem! So, infant death is not anything surprising, or even really interesting, but what makes Rukia's kind of compelling is the fact that her much-older sister died at the same time. To me, this indicates either a natural disaster or a death-by-violence.

As I said above, there are infinity ways you can go with this, but to me, there were two important things I wanted to capture 1) given Renji's descriptions of Rukia having an inherent grace and nobility, and the idea that something about Hisana caught Byakuya's eye, I thought that maybe they should have been noble, and 2) I wanted them to live by the sea. I do not actually remember how I landed on this, but in the 1850s, a bunch of sea fortresses were constructed to protect Japan by attack from sea (see here for more detail). This was the tail end of the Edo period and I liked the idea that maybe Rukia came from an old samurai family, and her father was sent to oversee one of these coastal forts. Did they die in a bombardment? A bad storm? The Kanto earthquake? I never got that far. I'm not even sure if this is a realistic scenario, if they had civilians living there, etc, this was just a half-thought-out thing I came up with for a bonus chapter of a fanfic that someone requested once. The one other detail from that that I came up with and stand by is that I think there were more siblings in their family between Hisana and Rukia. I also like that this idea that makes Rukia somewhat older than Renji, even though the math is impossible and the points are made up anyway.

#rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #beforedeath is a great companion word to afterlife which i just made up for this post but i hope it catches on

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kingofthewilderwest · 1 year

Note

Your tags on the 'whose smarter' poll made me flashback to that episode of DoB. Final ep, I think, Cast Out prt 2? And anyway it literally ends with Snotlout (disobeying Hiccup) and acting recklessly with his plan. Hiccup tells him "You proved sometimes recklessness can be courageous" and I just remember being like "THIS from the kid who took on the Red Death on one dragon with a flammable tail fin. Like the similarity/hypocrisy got me--when Hiccup went after the Red Death he was a hero.

I love this. It's really about framing. The HTTYD series provides us certain narrative perceptions, lenses, by which they have us view the characters. Going outside the lenses to look at characters's actions more objectively, and there's that... bias... haha, yeah!

Hiccup constantly doing reckless things is treated as more permissible by the show's framework. His reckless and/or impulsive decisions are treated as gutsy, genius solutions rather than haybrained schemes. And Hiccup tends to be rewarded for those wild plans narratively by having those succeed.

Even though Hiccup gets semi-called out on unnecessary recklessness in RTTE - like testing a flight suit - it's portrayed narratively to viewers as humorous rather than flaws to learn from (as per Snotlout). And when Hiccup makes mistakes, the narrative treats feedback from "equals" like Astrid or people in greater authority like Stoick as what we viewers should care most about. It's not that Ruffnut, Tuffnut, or Snotlout lack feedback about Hiccup's decisions, but it's not treated as criticially. We're not "meant" to reflect on it, most of the time.

"You just proved sometimes recklessness can be courageous" is so much a part of Hiccup's choices that the phrase could be etched on his tombstone. But it's Snotlout taking a moment of gumption that's called out as so risky it's potentially "dumb." And frankly, across the entirety of DreamWorks Dragons, Snotlout brings up many points of prudent caution.

There's a hierarchy the narrative gives us - Hiccup the leader, Astrid and Fishlegs as "more competent" members of the group, and the twins and Snotlout as "less competent" members of the group (our comedic relief). The narrative wants us to sometimes treat this as a gang of equals, especially by RTTE, but the way conversations and situations get presented, solved, and saved means that this internalized hierarchy never leaves. That means that who the audience members take most seriously gets impacted.

I mean, as you said yourself, it's Snotlout disobeying Hiccup - a word that carries authority, as Hiccup is the leader of the Dragon Club during the early DreamWorks Dragons series. In HTTYD and HTTYD 2, Hiccup disobeying Stoick, while ultimately resulting in good ends, also carries consequences. Hiccup disobeying Stoick resulted in the village nearly getting killed. Hiccup disobeying Stoick brought Drago's attention onto them. But by the TV series, I think Hiccup's disobedience is usually seen as a good (by my shoddy memory), but Snotlout's disobedience is seen as him not being "as good as" Hiccup - but is that actually, objectively the case, outside the show's framing?

I don't have the Freaktastic Knowledge I did in ye olde days of analysis where I could list off three hundred specific examples to prove my points, but this is my memory impressions of the series. Snotlout balks at Hiccup's plans lots of the time - and he doesn't not have a point. In another series, Snotlout would be correctly identifying three hundred things that could go wrong, might have gone wrong, or will actually, in fact, go wrong. But Snotlout as a comedic relief character, and then a defiant character opposing Hiccup the Hero who comes up with the correct plan because he's got protagonist armor... means sometimes Snotlout's legitimate points get lost to viewers.

There's a reason why, even now, ROB's Defiant One's conversation between Hiccup and Snotlout still resonates clearly in my memories.

Snotlout: Oh, you are so smug! Hiccup: Me? Snotlout: Hiccup's so smart! Hiccup's so brave! He killed the Red Death! He trained the dragons! He's got the metal leg! Hiccup: Metal leg? That's what's bothering you? That's where you're going? Metal leg? Snotlout: No! It's everything the leg is attached to!

Snotlout made mistakes in Defiant One. Let's not forget that context. But while Snotlout yelling at Hiccup can be read as Snotlout not being "as good as" our hero Hiccup who saves the day... it strikes me because it shows the imbalance of treatment between Snotlout and Hiccup. "Everything the leg is attached to" is the prioritization of Hiccup and - by this point - Hiccup expecting to be prioritized.

Actually listening to Snotlout is a fantastic way to experience the TV series. He's bitter. He's grumpy. He's defiant. He's downer. But that's because he sees holes. He has a **PRACTICAL** side that butts heads with Hiccup. I'm someone whose thinking processes are similar to Snotlout - it's easier to shoot down a solution for its mistakes than come up with a new one - but it's an important role to have. In an actually existing friendship group, you need someone who's down to earth enough to make sure your out-of-the-box thinking friend (Hiccup) doesn't come up with something so wild it's not really going to work. We need an intelligence that sees holes. Otherwise, we start floating off into things that won't work as we expect them to, or adopting ideas that haven't been tested with robustness.

Snotlout's a legitimately smart guy. The fact that Astrid and the others shoot him down is partially because of his character, partially because sometimes he can be a dummy (as can we all), but partially because of their own flaws. Listen more to Snotlout, y'all. Some of Hiccup's plans work because Luck.

Similarly, we can talk about the framing of Fishlegs spewing facts (treated as providing information) versus the Thorstons spewing facts (treated as a novelty quirk rather than intelligence). Just because the Thorstons do it in a dorkier, more trollish matter does not negate the fact that they are BRIMMING, purely BRIMMING, with an ENORMOUS amount of factual knowledge! Does Fishlegs actually have more factual knowledge than them? No, it's just a different area. He's got concentrated knowledge on dragons. They've got in depth, niche knowledge of a large variety of topics. Fishlegs, Ruff, and Tuff are all dang smart.

From a meta standpoint, the twins's intelligence is treated inconsistently. But I prefer me my smart Thorstons who just have spacey heads, trollish senses of humor, and thrillseeking behavior.

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