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roosterforme · 4 months ago

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In the Navy Now | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley and Jake catch their wives in the midst of a lie, Bradley wonders what made you think you couldn't be honest with him. He soon realizes you have a trick up your sleeve, one that makes his work day a lot more exciting.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, adult language, math as foreplay

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

"You know what really sucks?" Bradley mused as he sat at a table for two in the cafeteria on base.

"What's that?" Jake asked in response, digging his fork into a bowl of pasta.

Bradley looked around the room at everyone else and sighed. "You and I are forced to socialize all the time now, because our wives are best friends."

He saw Jake on Saturday, and also last night at the bar, and again every damn day at work.

Jake shrugged as he took a bite of his lunch. "It's not that bad."

"Speak for yourself. I literally can't understand what Jessica sees in you."

As soon as he heard Jake's laugh, Bradley knew what was coming. "You're literally the last person who should be making comments like that. Your wife is so hot, it's absolutely unbelievable she is with you willingly. She had ten years to come to her senses."

Bradley smiled as he thought about you. "She missed me."

Jake was shaking his head. "She must have been with some seriously ugly guys or something in those ten years."

Bradley was laughing now as he said, "I'm telling you, she missed me as much as I missed her."

"Riiiight. I'm about to text her and ask for verification on that one."

Bradley poked at his salad and murmured, "Don't even bother. She's in some sort of math seminar with Dean Walters all day. Told me not to try reaching her unless it's an emergency."

"Are you sure?" Jake asked, giving him a funny look. "Jess said she had a department meeting with the dean today. For the science department."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course I'm sure. I even packed her an extra snack. Unlike you, I actually listen to my wife when she talks. I'm sure you're wrong."

But Jake was already digging in the pocket of his flight suit for his phone, and when he unlocked it and slid it across the table, Bradley picked it up. He skimmed a text that Jessica sent just a few hours ago.

I love you! Don't forget, I'll be unreachable most of the day. Physics meeting with Dean Walters.

Bradley frowned. If this was true, then you lied to him. You never lied to him. He tried his best to let you know that you never had to do that. But now he remembered that you even went so far as to tell him you didn't need a ride home from campus today, and that actually seemed suspicious, too.

"Why do they want us to think they're busy all day?"

"It doesn't really make any sense," Jake said as he set his fork down. "Damn. Jess knows she can talk to me about anything."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted, "I don't like this shit." The uneasy feeling seemed to spread through his entire body as he stood. "We need to get going. Special class today, remember?"

"Fuck," Jake muttered under his breath, clearly as excited about the guest lecturer as Bradley was. Sitting in the classroom for a few hours was usually always tedious compared to flying, but the lectures that Cyclone had been adding to their schedules randomly over the past few months were worse than the most boring class Bradley ever took at the University of Virginia.

"Let's get this over with," he said, dropping his tray off and fighting the urge to text you just to see what you'd have to say. Now he was going to have to figure out a way to call you out about lying later. But it was still puzzling him as to why you and Jessica would both tell the same exact lie. What was the point of that? If you didn't want Bradley to bother you at work, that was all you needed to say. But it wasn't like he was annoying like Jake was; he could understand Jessica needing a break from her husband, but did you need one too?

He was still trying to figure out if there was something going wrong with his marriage when he walked into the classroom. Cyclone was standing at the front, hands on his hips, glaring at Bradley and Jake as they walked inside with two minutes to spare. The only seats left were both up in the front row, and Bradley groaned as he dropped down into one of them. The last guest speaker they had spit the entire time he talked, and the one before that spoke at full volume like she was teaching a room full of hundreds of people rather than the twenty four that were gathered.

"I regret not getting here early," Jake murmured, and Bradley nodded as he shifted in his seat and messed with the cuffs of the sleeves of his flight suit. He was really hung up on what you could possibly be doing today, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to pay attention to this lecture topic at all. And that's when he noticed what was written on the white board behind Cyclone.

THE PHYSICS OF PROPULSION AND MATHEMATICAL FORMULATIONS IN SINGLE SEAT F/A-18 JETS

He groaned, because even the word mathematical made him think about you. This was about to be a long afternoon. Then Admiral Simpson cleared his throat, and Bradley forced his attention to the man in front of him.

"Welcome. Today's lecture topic is of the utmost importance regarding updates that will be made to your aircrafts this year. We will take a look at jet propulsion and the calculations specific to your F/A-18s before the new NATOPS is even released. We have two guest speakers who are professors from San Diego State University's math and physics departments, and they have graciously agreed to spend some time on this topic with us."

"No way," Bradley whispered, convinced it had to be you. He swiveled around in his seat so fast, he thought he might have broken it as he hung over the arm into the aisle when the classroom door opened. He could hear her high heels on the floor before he realized he was looking at Jessica enter the room, but then his heart skipped around in his chest just like the first time he saw you over ten years ago at his fraternity house. You looked fucking hot as sin, strolling in behind Jake's wife with a folder in your hand and a smirk on your red lips. Your eyes found his immediately as he sat there gaping at you while you made your way to the front of the room, but other than a little nod in his direction, you gave him nothing.

"Holy shit," Jake hissed next to him as Bradley nodded in agreement, his eyes glued on your body as he heard Cyclone introduce you and Dr. Jessica Reed by name. You gave the room at large a little wave, but your eyes flicked him, and Bradley let out the breath he had apparently been holding as he relaxed into his seat. So this must have been why you tried to make it seem like you were extremely busy today. Maybe you and Jessica didn't want him and Jake to catch on to the fact that you'd be presenting their class.

As Jessica started talking, he took in every inch of your appearance. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, and you were doing it very well. Bradley was proficient at calculus, having attended many of your college level math lectures. Sometimes he surprised you, but sometimes you knew ahead of time that he planned on being there. It didn't hurt that the lectures he attended usually ended with sex or a blowjob for him. Somehow math had turned into a form of foreplay for the two of you, and Bradley couldn't get enough. You'd praise him when he was able to solve a difficult problem, and the rewards were always sexy.

He was used to seeing you like this when he visited San Diego State University, but getting to witness your brilliance on the Naval base was already so exciting. Right now, he was already having a difficult time sitting still as he grew hard at the sound of your voice.

"The calculations related to your Super Hornets are so precise, we'll just take a look at a handful of examples to give you an idea of what we mean," you said, opening up your folder on the table as Bradley ran his sweaty palms on his flight suit. You were only a few feet away from him. He could smell your shampoo. He could count the little silver buttons on the side of your skirt. He had to bite his lip as you turned toward the white board and uncapped a marker as you said, "Please, let me know if I'm going too fast."

He could pick your writing out easily, but there was something about the way you always chose the letter B for your variables when he was watching. Your smooth penmanship started to fill the board as you talked your way through the problem, but Bradley could barely take his eyes off your ass. He turned around briefly to make sure nobody else had the same idea he did, but it was hard to tell. The younger guys looked a lot more enthusiastic than they usually did, and he might have to pound some sense into them later. Didn't they know you were his fucking wife?

But maybe they didn't. You kept your name the same when you got married. So did Jessica for that matter. Now Bradley sat a little taller in his seat as he realized he was married to one of the two extremely hot PhDs who all the other men in the room were drooling over.

"Does that make sense?" you asked, turning back to face them with a satisfied look on your face. "Dr. Reed can take over explaining the actual physics of the aircraft propulsion, and then I'll jump back in with the next calculation."

Bradley smiled at you while Jessica started talking again, and he could tell you were trying not to look at him as your lips curled into a grin. God, you were just fucking perfect. Smart and silly and sexy. And the two of you had so much history together, he could practically read the thoughts on your face.

"Did they dress like this on purpose?" Jake croaked softly.

"I know mine did," Bradley whispered. Your little tweed skirt and loafers screamed east coast academic. It looked as good on you as his tie dye shirt always did. It was just as sexy as lingerie. It was almost pornographic to him at this point. But today you had them paired with a blazer and a bodysuit. A bodysuit. He loved those things with the little snaps that held them closed as they hugged your curves. He was almost certain you'd skipped a bra. He couldn't wait to find out for sure.

Jessica was still talking about jet propulsion. Bradley would ask you to explain it to him later if it was actually important. Right now, you were slowly buttoning and then unbuttoning your blazer over and over again while you alternated between consulting your notes and stealing glances at Bradley. He was too warm as he watched your fingers work, and your eyes caught his as he leaned forward in his seat.

"Hey, Sugar," he mouthed, and your gaze dropped back to your folder as you bit your lip and smiled. He was ready to go home. Take you to bed. Or maybe get a private lecture in your home office. Or maybe drive all the way to the college and visit one of the library study rooms. You made everything so exciting, he wanted all of it.

When Jessica handed the lecture back over to you, Bradley squirmed in his seat as you wrote another calculation on the board. Jake was really no better in the seat next to him, and he realized the two of them must look like idiots at the moment. But you were making a subtle math joke that he understood, and when you glanced over your shoulder, your engagement ring sparkled under the fluorescent light.

"Now this is how the updates will actually make your aircrafts more fuel efficient," you said as you easily worked through a calculation that looked so complicated, Isaac Newton wouldn't have been able to solve it. Bradley's cock was still half hard, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to stand up after this. But then you really threw him for a loop when you casually added the equation from your tattoo into the middle of the mess of mathematics on the white board. Now the only thing he could think about was your tits. Or rather, him running his lips along your math titty tattoo.

Bradley wasn't going to be able to sit still for much longer, but you turned around and asked, "Does anyone have any questions?"

He had to sit there and listen to several of the other guys ask you the most idiotic questions just so they could have your attention. Then Bradley raised his hand and waited until you pointed at him and said, "Lieutenant Bradshaw?" with an amused look on your face. "You have a question?"

"Yeah," he said, voice raspy. "I do, professor. If the variable B is directly related to propulsion, then how is that going to affect my thrust?"

He kept a straight face while you fought to do the same. You cleared your throat, took a step in his direction, and said, "You're going to need to have some additional thrust, Lieutenant."

Bradley nodded and gave you a thoughtful look. "Hmmm, that's what I thought. And it looks like a very complicated calculation."

You stood there in front of everyone in your little tweed skirt and the diamond ring he gave you and said, "If you'd like a more thorough explanation, I wouldn't mind spending a few minutes with you afterwards, Lieutenant."

As he leaned back in his seat, he told you, "I look forward to it."

So Bradley listened to Jessica while you occasionally interjected, and he kept his eyes on your face as his excitement started to build even more. When the afternoon lecture was finally over, he and Jake both stayed in their seats while Cyclone shook hands with the two of you.

"How long do you think they've been planning this?" Jake whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Not sure," Bradley replied as you collected your notes into your folder. "But I intend to find out." He was impressed as hell that you managed to pull this off without him noticing, but his skin was tingling with need. He desperately wanted to get his hands on you after you worked him up with all of the intellectual teasing.

As soon as Cyclone dismissed everyone, Jake was on his feet, dragging Jessica out of the classroom, but Bradley didn't move an inch in his seat. His cock was hard, and you were running your hand along your tweed covered hip as you smiled at him. But then he had to endure one of the younger aviators who was new to Top Gun trying to chat you up when he should have just left the classroom with the others. When you turned to face him instead, annoyance washed through Bradley's veins.

"Uh, hi, uh I actually studied mathematics at the Naval Academy, and I graduated three years ago, and uh, I was just wondering if you would want to get a drink with me sometime and talk more about, um, some of the topics you covered about propulsion and thrust-"

"Fuck off, man," Bradley barked. "She's wearing goddamn wedding rings. And she's not interested."

Your hand slipped over your lips as you laughed silently while the younger man looked at Bradley in shock. "Oh. Right. Okay," he muttered before hightailing it from the now nearly empty classroom.

"That wasn't very nice," you said, fighting against a smile. "He seemed really sweet. I was going to let him shoot his shot."

Bradley stood with a soft groan, his erection pressing against the zipper of his flight suit. "I was promised a private tutorial session, Dr. Sugar. I'm not about to let a twenty-something year old take up any of my time."

Without hesitation, you walked over to him and started to slowly unzip his flight suit. "Hate to break it to you, Beer Boy, but you were a twenty-something year old when I fell in love with you."

You ran your fingers along his undershirt, and Bradley glanced at the open classroom door as he whispered, "I hope you know you're not leaving this room until you're full of my cum."

"Lieutenant Bradshaw!" you gasped, eyes wide and surprised. But your hand was dipping lower to his abs, and he could tell you were as turned on as he was. "This is a tutoring session!"

Bradley wrapped his hand around your wrist and gently led you toward the door which he immediately closed. "I want to know how the hell you managed to pull this off. I had no idea you and Jessica were going to be teaching a class for the Navy."

"We've been working on our lesson plan for weeks," you said with a smirk as Bradley placed both of your palms on the door and flipped the light switch off. In the dimly lit room, you whispered, "We wanted it to be a surprise."

Bradley stood behind you, facing the door and kissed your neck above your unbuttoned blazer. "And here I thought you lied to me about your plans because you needed a break from me."

You moaned softly as his nose traced the shell of your ear. "Oh, please. It's not like you're annoying like Jake. I don't need a break from you, Beer Boy."

"Hmm, then what do you need from me?" he asked softly, letting one hand slide up your bodysuit while he confirmed that you were not wearing a bra. Your nipples were tight peaks as he stroked them through the fabric with one big hand, and you bumped your ass back against his erection.

"I need you to tell me what you know about thrust, Lieutenant," you stated in your teacher voice which made him grind against you.

"I know you like it when I give you a little thrust," he grunted, guiding your tweed skirt up your thighs as you gasped.

"Is this a good idea?" you asked, still pressing your body back against his. "Should we wait until we get home?"

"Can't," he growled, yanking your skirt up over your ass and wrapping his hands around your hips as he looked down at the perfect view. "You got me too worked up. You know what your lectures do to me. And this time it was on my home turf."

Your hands were still planted on the door as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "Almost like I'm in the Navy now. Lieutenant Sugar? Should I get a uniform?"

"Oh, fuck. You know I couldn't handle that. Besides, I'm really partial to your tweed." He was running his knuckles down your rear end as he whispered, "Please, let me fuck you. I'll be quick, Baby."

His fingers were already at the snaps on your bodysuit that hid your pussy from his touch when you said, "Do it."

With a flick of his wrist, the snaps sprung free, and he ran his finger along your slit. Your back arched as he carefully pulled his cock free from his unzipped flight suit and underwear, and then he was guiding you to your tiptoes as he slipped himself inside you.

Bradley wrapped one hand around your waist and braced the door closed with the other as he buried himself deep inside you. Your soft gasp sounded beautiful as he sucked on your neck and gave you a few deep strokes. When he started to go faster, your fingers curled against the door as you whined his name, and he asked, "How's my thrust?"

Your head tipped back against his shoulder as you whispered, "You're just about there. Maybe a little harder."

Always wanting to be your top student, he did exactly as you told him and picked up the pace, letting himself slam against your ass. Your tight pussy felt so fucking good, and normally he'd draw this out as long as possible, but not today. He let your grip on him take over all of his senses, and soon he was grunting next to your ear, lips parted as he fucked you up against the door in a classroom at Top Gun.

"This is filthy as hell," he muttered, jerking his hips in an uneven rhythm. "Fucking my perfect wife on base. During work hours."

"Beer Boy," you gasped when he slammed deep and held himself there. He did it again, loving the sound of his body meeting yours so intimately. A third time, and the pull along his spine as you moaned was too much. You had complete control over him.

Bradley gave it to you hard until he was panting. He let himself come as you turned and looked back at him, licking those sinful lips. "Jesus, fuck, holy shit," he groaned before kissing your lips softly as he gave you a few more thrusts before pulling himself free.

He was still a little hard as he tucked himself back into his flight suit and zipped it up again. When he went to fix your bodysuit, he ended up with his fingers coated in your arousal mixed with his cum as he did the snaps once again.

"Good as new," he murmured as you tugged your skirt down and turned to face him. He kissed you again before he said, "We should get out of here."

You nodded and collected your folder before pulling the door open and strolling casually out into the hallway like you didn't have his sticky cum rubbing against your inner thighs. "Now that you're all squared away with your thrust variable," you told him as he licked his fingers clean, enjoying the way the two of you tasted together, "you'll be even faster, Lieutenant."

Bradley snickered as you and he rounded the corner. "I hope you mean in the air. Quickies aren't really my thing, unless we're in a library study room or apparently an empty Naval classroom."

"There you are, professor." Cyclone was trying to flag you down, and Bradley watched you stumble as you headed off in his direction. He wasn't even sure if Admiral Simpson knew you and he were married, but the other man looked overjoyed as he said, "I've already been getting wonderful feedback about you and Dr. Reed, and I'm hoping you'll both agree to come back next month for another lecture on a different topic."

Bradley groaned and just kept walking. He would wait for you in the parking lot where he'd have a moment to himself to collect his thoughts. More sexy tweed and his hot wife in the classroom? Another lecture topic? Hours of mathematical foreplay that nobody else seemed to pick up on? Quickies were about to become his thing.

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I missed Beer Boy and Sugar SO MUCH! She's such a queen, she literally just has to exist to make him lose his mind. But she knows what she did here. She knows. Thanks for reading!

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bbystark · 7 months ago

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♡ simon is a bad stalker part 4 ♡

badstalker!simon x reader series - pt one two three

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: the date you've been waiting for dreading.

a/n: so i did the thing again where i dissapeared lol but IM BACK plz enjoy my offering

you get home safely, with soap, and you don't say a singular word. just kind of dumbly stare out the window and then at him when he helps you out of the car and into your house.

you can't stop thinking about ghost, and the fact that you quite literally cornered yourself into going on a date with your stalker

you really chalk it up to having some type of third response to danger, fight, flight or say the most ridiculous thing you possibly can. obviously you chose the third.

you go to bed that night with your cat in your arms, as if they can protect you from you're own stupid decision. you're shivering no matter how warm you try to get, and your cat throws you irritated side eyes.

you wake up with no sign of ghost. no calls, no texts, no emails. you try not to think about if he was in the house while you slept, like he had been before.

you try to have a normal day, but you're plagued with anxiety and anticipation

you decide to go outside, walk to the little coffee shop that's nearby to get fresh air and be somewhere you knew ghost hadn't been

you spend a few hours out, window shopping and trying to clear your head. you head back when the sun starts to go down, not keen on being out after dark.

what you come back to is almost comical.

you stumble through the door, eyes snapping to the huge figure in your kitchen. he turns around suddenly, and your cat is in his arms, rubbing her face against his mask. you only see it for half a second before he's setting them on the counter faster than you can blink. your cat lets out an irritated meow, and somehow even through the mask, ghost looks guilty

you laugh, you honest to god laugh. "oh my god. you fucking traitor." you whisper at your cat, trying to suppress your giggles. yeah, add this to the list of danger responses.

ghost straightens, and then you notice your surroundings. there's roses in a vase on your table, and he's cooking, there's at least 3 different pans and it smells incredible and you're dumbfounded. you stare at him, unable to say anything.

"welcome to your date love." he turns back to the stove, and you're grateful, because you feel like you can't move while he's looking. like one wrong move will make him snap and your worst nightmares will come true. you keep reminding yourself that nothing has happened before, and you take a seat in the chair at the table closest to the door.

"um, the roses are nice." you can see him cooking at this angle. "glad you like 'em. dinner will be done in a few." he doesn't turn around. he doesn't know how this will go, he's expecting you to run out at any moment, screaming bloody murder. he's trying to help you feel safe by turning his back, giving you the upper hand (or at least the illusion of the upper hand).

underneath that worry though, ghost was thriving in this scenario. it was like watching all of his fantasies come true, he couldn't help but preen under your compliment, and the ability to show you he can provide

you're still a little in shock. you don't say anything as ghost serves you dinner, your favorite, not surprising. you watch as he rolls up his mask, and takes a bite. it still doesn't convince you of the possibility of it being drugged.

"it's alright dove, not 'ere to hurt you, just 'ere to give you the date i promised." as he says it, your cat jumps onto the table, knocking over a glass of water. ghost stands, and looks down to find all the water had made it directly into his lap.

you find yourself laughing for the second time of the night. here your stalker is, looking like he peed himself. he chuckles himself, and you have to look away when you see his lopsided smile. you stand and grab a towel, temporarily forgetting the situation you were in. it was way too easy to see this as a real first date, awkward parts and all.

"thanks." he sits back down, clearing his throat. the proximity to you was intoxicating, but he was still worried about running you off.

you sit back down too, and take and slowly take a bite of the food. it's delicious, and you still can't believe the absurdity of the situation. "this is really great ghost. really." your voice is small, and music to his ears.

"thank you. m'sorry about breaking in. swear 'm just trying to make your life easier."

you decide to start testing boundaries, as one would. "maybe, since this is going... okay, you can stop coming in when i don't know? like maybe we can just keep doing this every once in a while?" damage control is all you can think of.

ghost thinks for a moment. "i dunno about that one love. how 'bout i give you a heads up when i do come in?"

"no more coming in here while i'm sleeping. and you still have to tell me when you're in my house."

"alright," he crosses his arm and leans back on the chair. do you hate how big he is because you're scared, or because you secretly like it? "i tell you when i come over, and no more coming in at night. but you 'ave to promise me one date a week."

you can't believe you're negotiating with this man. "okay." you concede.

he smiles and pulls his mask back down. he makes his way over to you, stroking your hair for half a second before clearing your plate. "look at us. arguing like a proper old couple already. "

as he does the dishes, you ask him more questions. he's answers as truthfully as he can, leaving out details here and there. no need to startle you.

you learn he was in the military, that the two men are some of the only people he's close with, that he trusts. besides you, of course. you feel like he throws that in to tell you to be wary of using this information against him.

from what you can tell, this is just a severely damaged man. the actions he was taking against you was just his reaction to loneliness, and his need to provide.

against your will, you feel the need to help him fill that hole. the need to tread lightly dissipates by the minute, and against your better judgement, you find yourself enjoying his company. and hey, he made dinner and did the dishes. that has to speak to his character somehow

later, he grabs your hand and runs rough fingers over your soft knuckles. promises he'll call, and then leaves.

and you're left alone, forced to do what you've done a lot lately; ponder your life decisions, and think about the large, surprisingly harmless stalker of yours..

#badstalker!simon #ghost x reader #yandere x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #ghost smut #ghost cod #141 x reader #x reader #stalker x reader

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starlostastronaut · 2 months ago

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NO TURNING BACK (ONCE WE'RE CONNECTED) | PART ONE

summary ─ you just needed a date to you aunt's birthday party, so your family would stop setting you up with random guys. asking your best friend to play your boyfriend for a few days can't do any harm, can it?

genre ─ bang chan x reader ; non idol au , fake dating, friends to lovers, fluff, only one bed

word count ─ 2k

links ─ masterlist ; taglist info

note ─ happy birthday to my baby, my mars ( @knowbites ) !! <33 this fic is for you. and as you can see it is part one because there's so much more i want to write but i wouldn't be able to finish it in time. i hope your day was the best and that you like this fic <33 and also a shout out to my lovely @catiuskaa who's been nothing but amazing as a beta and a consult! thank you sm!!

It's not a big deal. It's not.

You sighed, your attempts to convince yourself felt in vain, even after several tries. You took a deep breath, willing your brain to stop overthinking it. But how could you not? You were going to ask your best friend to pretend to be your boyfriend for the long weekend. Even the thought of that was so cliché, it made you cringe every time. Unfortunately, it was your only option.

Your lovely mother, as amazing as she was, had one flaw. She always tried to set you up with someone. Friend's son, the next door neighbour, the cashier who sold her groceries that one time. And after the last suitor showed up, a slightly creepy office worker pushing forty, you had enough. You told your mother you had a boyfriend, but it was very new, so that's why you hadn't mentioned it to her yet. She was delighted, and it brought you peace for a few weeks, almost making you forget about it. Until the invitation to your aunt's birthday weekend came. She was a wealthy woman who always went all out for her birthday, inviting all of her relatives for a weekend of vacation, great food, and of course, a party. Which brought a problem this time.

You were instructed to bring your boyfriend, so your family could finally meet him. Uh oh. You had several options. Tell them your boyfriend is busy, tell them you broke up, or convince your best friend to play your boyfriend for the two and a half days.

So there you were, in front of Chan's dorm, mentally preparing yourself to knock on his door for the past five minutes.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Chan's voice came from the hallway, and he sped up his pace to meet you at his door. For a split second, your instinct screamed at you to run, that this was a bad idea, and you should back out when you still could.

“Hi,” you said, before your fight-or-flight response could kick in. “I was just uh… about to see you. Yeah, that.” You looked up into his eyes and then back down to the ground, knowing you can't do this if you have to look at him. The idea seemed good half an hour ago, but as you were getting closer to executing it, it was becoming more and more stressful.

Chan unlocks the door. “Sure, come in. Did you need anything?”

You follow him inside, sitting on the couch and squeezing your hands into fists. “Y/N? You look a little pale, are you sure-”

“Will you be my boyfriend?” you blurt out and immediately cover your mouth with your hand. Fuck. This had not gone according to the plan. At all. You see his ears go bright red, and before he can say anything, you continue. “Fake boyfriend! Fake! I just… I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so my mom stops setting me up with old men.”

Chan looked at you, then blinked a few times in confusion. And then… he started laughing. “Fake boyfriend?”

“Channie, please?” You whipped out your best puppy eyes, knowing it was just a matter of time. He could never resist cute behavior. “It's just one weekend. I will do anything you ask of me, please.” You reached out to grab his hands. He was weak for that, you had proven it many times before

He sighed, and you smiled victoriously. “Fine,” Chan said. “I'll be your fake boyfriend.” He squeezed your hand and smiled at you. There was something in his eyes you couldn't decipher, but you were too overjoyed by your plan working to really care.

After few weeks and several practice dates with Chan, as he called them (“If we're pretending to be a couple for your family, we must get our act and backstory together,” he claimed), you were sitting in the passenger seat of Chan's car, driving up to the holiday resort you aunt booked for her party.

“Nervous?” he mused, turning down the volume of the radio. He couldn't really take his eyes off the road, but still his eyes found yours for a millisecond. You nodded and he smiled, placing his hand on your thigh. “Don't be. We planned everything. It will be okay.” His voice was warm and reassuring, just like his hand on your leg. You felt your heart rate speed up, despite feeling calmer by the second. Your nerves were really messing with you.

“We forgot one thing,” you said after a while. “How much physical contact is okay?”

“Well,” Chan shrugs. “I'm already pretty affectionate, you know that. Hugs, arm around shoulders… I guess just add hand holding and cheek kisses. I'm fine with anything but mouth kisses, I think. You?”

You thought about it for a moment. He was right, he was a physically affectionate person, so there wasn't much on the list he hadn't been doing. “Same, I think. No mouth kisses, but otherwise it's okay.”

“Don't worry, okay?” Chan repeated as the resort came into view in the distance. “It will be okay.” Looking outside from the window, you nodded. Chan was right. You planned, you practiced… what could possibly go wrong?

“Are they serious?”

“Well, we are a couple,” Chan pointed out, trying his best —and failing— to stifle the giggles coming out of his throat. He got held back with the bags, so when he arrived in the room, he was met with your shocked and angry face, staring at the bed in the center. A singular bed.

You shot him a glare sharper than a knife. That made the laughter die immediately.

“It's not that bad,” he said, setting down the bags and inspecting the bed closer. “I mean, look at this thing. It's huge. It could fit us both and Changbin with all his muscles in the middle, and we’d all be comfortable.”

You still didn't look happy, but you knew he was right. The bed was big enough, and it's not like you haven't slept close to each other before. It was just the context of the situation making you nervous, you decided. “I take the left side.”

“Oi, I wanted that one,” Chan complains, but goes to put his bag on the right side, beginning to unpack some essentials. He was organized like that, unpacking as soon as he could, putting all of his things in their meticulously chosen place. Unlike you, who just dumped your bag on your side and went to explore the room's adjacent bathroom.

After you freshened up a little, it was time to meet the parents. If this went smoothly, the rest of the weekend would too. So, you were pretty scared. Chan was loved by every parent, it was a fact. But what if they don't believe you?

“Stop overthinking it,” Chan murmured into your ear, his hand coming to wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him. “This was your plan. Stop doubting us so much. I'm a great actor, you know.”

You cracked a smile at that. “Sure,” you mused. But it was Chan, and everything about him felt calm and relaxing. You could do this.

With Chan's hand holding yours securely, tight but still gentle, you made your way down the stairs to the restaurant, where you were supposed to have dinner with your parents.

“Mom, Dad, this is Chan,” you said confidently, stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He was smiling, and that alone made a smile spread on your face as well.

Chan offered his hand to shake with your dad. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“He's cute,” your mom leaned over to you to whisper into your ear. “Why haven't you brought him sooner?”

Your eyes flickered to Chan, who was being questioned by your dad. You could tell by your dad's expression that Chan was getting the 'hurt my daughter and you'll end up in a ditch in the woods’ speech.

“That, for example?” You pointed to the two men, and your mom rolled her eyes.

“He just wants to make sure this Chan is right for you,” she smiled. “But don't worry, I won't let him torture your boy for long. I can tell he's a good guy who cares about you. Mothers always know,” she smirked and patted your shoulder, before turning to the other side to rescue Chan from your dad.

The dinner then went on with everyone ordering food and chatting more. And as you predicted, your parents loved him immediately. Who wouldn't, right? Chan was kind, warm, caring, and there was an aura around him that made everyone feel safe and comfortable. He would be a good boyfriend, you thought as you watched him excitedly explain something to your dad.

What? Where did that thought come from? You shook your head. Chan was performing well. Objectively, he would be a good boyfriend. Attentive, gentle, and he was good with parents. You felt a sense of calmness, finally believing you might actually pull it off.

“So, day one done?” Chan asked, coming out of the shower in just shorts, drying his hair with a towel. You couldn't help the way your eyes skimmed over his upper body. Chan always walked around naked, and you made fun of him for it every time, but he was still hot, and you were just a girl.

“I hope you're wearing a shirt to bed,” you chuckled, picking up one of his shirts lying around and throwing it on him. Chan caught it, but he lost his balance and stumbled forward a little. You looked at each other and burst into laughter. Feeling all of today’s stress disappear, you felt like you could finally relax and laugh with Chan about something stupid, like you always did.

You never noticed how pretty his laugh sounded. Thousands of fairies must have been born from it because it was so pure, happy, and full of life. You slowly quieted down, watching how his eyes crinkled into crescents and his dimples proudly showed on his cheeks. Pretty.

“Y/N? You good there?”

“Yeah, yeah, just… tired, I guess,” you answered. “It's late and a lot has happened today,” you added, catching onto any excuse for your distracted mind. The events of today were to blame, definitely not Chan himself. Because that wouldn't make any sense. You just… You just needed to go to sleep and rest. That was it. These thoughts… it was a result of worrying about how you'd perform. Your brain was constantly evaluating how boyfriend-ish he was acting. And paired together with the exhaustion, it was rotting your brain.

Chan nods and gets into the bed, keeping his distance from you like he promised, but still staying close enough that if you just reached out, he would be there. “So what's the battle plan for tomorrow?”

You hummed, pulling the blanket over you as well. At least you were given two of those. “Well, the morning is pretty chill. You'll probably have to meet some cousins or other family, but no one should bother us much. Everyone does whatever they want, catching up, since there's some pretty distant family here. In the evening, there’s the party. That's the main event of the weekend. The next day is mostly to recover and pack to go back home.”

Chan whistled. “Damn, your aunt really takes this seriously.”

“Well, it is her 50th birthday,” you shrugged. “And she's always loved big, extravagant parties.” Looking over at Chan, you noticed a small smile on his face. There was something hiding behind it, you were sure, but you were unable to decipher it.

“We should rest well then, such an exhausting day ahead of us,” he said, and you nodded. He was right. “Good night, girlfriend.”

You chuckled, weakly throwing a pillow in his direction. “Good night, boyfriend,” you said, settling into the blankets with a fond smile on your lips mirroring Chan's own.

#( all works⎯ 🗃 )#neverendingdreams #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #fluff #fake dating #friends to lovers

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ranticore · 1 year ago

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I wanted to keep drawing some pern dragon stuff because I'm now writing a full AU set in weyr but I didn't want to put this stuff on my main blog or patreon due to it being basically for my own reference, though i felt others would like it too! so here is My Take On Dragon Wings By Type...

It's no secret I love drawing bird wings and prefer them a lot over traditional dragon wings. Growing up, I read the pern books featuring cover art of dragonfly-like wings with lots of little translucent panels, which I always loved. So I thought I'd try to nail down some wing shapes & structures by blending those two things i like together. I am aware dragons fly by telekinesis but I prefer a more realistic type of creature design so I will be choosing to ignore that fact. I do not care about strict canon compliance but I do like to keep some of that framework there as well, for fun.

The wing is made up of three main sails, as well as a propatagium sail (in front of the elbow). They are relatively polymorphic and can expand or contract to an extent to change the shape of the wing in response to flight demands, like the wing of an airliner. The trailing edge can expand and the slots between the spars of the 1st wingsail can deepen or become shallower (where those are a feature). The main structural matrix is opaque, while the membranous 'sails' are translucent and let light through like stained glass. These are a bilayer of membrane with air sandwiched between, which forms part of the air sac & respiratory system.

It makes sense for the original engineers of dragons to diversify dragon wing types by colour so that when fighting Thread, there's a dragon for every conceivable aerial job.

[individual descriptions under the cut]

Queens have the longest wings, though the largest bronzes can rival them for surface area. Gold wings are high endurance - a queen can fly further than any other dragon in active level flight, leaving even the swiftest bronzes behind if they can't muster up the energy reserves to catch her. She is an effective flier at all elevations and can pass very low over terrain without issue as well; she is an expert at taking advantage of the ground effect, where extra lift is generated within one half of a wingspan above land. This way, she can pass low below the main wings fighting Thread to catch any stragglers without expending too much energy. However, she is not very agile and may need a bit of a run-up or cliff-edge to get airborne.

Bronzes are suited for command positions during Threadfall, rising highest and maintaining that altitude effortlessly by soaring on thermals. From this vantage point they can easily survey the wings of riders below and make tactical decisions to direct the tide of battle. They have the size and stamina to chase queens, but might find it difficult to keep up on the flat, so they continually select for fitter hatchlings as only the best manage to mate. It takes a very clever and agile bronze to catch a green, if they are so inclined.

Browns are swift, highly agile, and the fastest vertical fliers, ideal for diving through the Thread mass from top to bottom while the other types pass horizontally. During earlier Passes, browns were capable of using their speed to catch queens, but as queen & bronze endurance gradually increased, browns struggle to keep up if they haven't managed to immediately catch their mate in the starting scrum, which is unlikely due to the bulkier bronze dragons being able to shove the browns aside.

Blues are fast on the flat and nicely manoeuvrable, with enough endurance to last a full Threadfall. Good all-rounders with a characteristic vertical take-off, they work best in the horizontal plane in battle but really they can do a little bit of everything. They often beat browns to catch greens, being very precise in flight and almost as manoeuvrable as their green mates.

Greens make up for their low stamina with their extreme manoeuvrability. Their short and elliptical wings let them turn on a dime, hover, and even fly backwards if they are sufficiently skilled. They have the fastest wingbeats, flying with a distinct thrumming sound. Of all the types they are least likely to be hit by a stray Thread, but they tire easily on the flat and have no soaring ability at all, often tapping out midway through battle in favour of replacements. In battle, greens excel at catching odd and skewed clumps of Thread that don't fall as predicted, or ones that are missed by the other riders. Green mating flights are a whole different beast to gold mating flights, where extreme aerial acrobatics are favoured instead of endurance and altitude, and these flights may be over within seconds. You need to be able to withstand a Lot of G-force to be a green rider.

#dragonriders of pern #hi it's me again. this is my sketch dump blog (very new)#pernese dragon #pern

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sayyourprayers · 8 months ago

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Mike not apologising is NOT Will's fault. No matter how many mental gymnastics moves you perform. Neither is Will calling El a stupid girl WRONG, when followed by an overgrown deathcap mushroom screaming homophobic rhetoric in Will's face. Stupid girl is as offhanded a comment as "girls have cooties". It was said to MIKE about him being with a girl (any really) over his friends (his best friend) (after all the shit that happened in S2 and apparently has been happening all summer) (enough for others - Lucas - also coupled - noticing and making a remark) Use BODMAS to solve.

Will does have flaws. Not kissing Mileven's ass isn't one of them. He is NOT a people pleaser. (Like at all, where in the show do we see that?) The word you're looking for is selfless. I think you even looked at it. Two VERY different things. And not causing more harm than good. Is El putting herself in danger causing more harm than good? Or is it necessary? And then others come up to say hey - you really don't have to go that far. There's a few steps between not doing anything and killing yourself. (Referring to closegate)

Let's also not forget his kidnapper/assailant is STILL inside him in a way. He feels him and doesn't just see him when he decides to look. There's no on/off switch. At least it's not in his control.

A mop misreading the status of his friendship with him isn't him setting up the relationship dynamics as such. Sounds like victim blaming. Looks like victim blaming. Would probably answer to being called victim blaming. A paisa for my thought : who builds the dynamic of a relationship? The one wielding some extra power (no matter the fact that the person isn't evil) or the one that's the pushover? Does Will get mistreated cuz he allows himself to be mistreated or because people mistreat him? Seeing as him standing up for himself is seeing as blowing up - and him expressing himself without blowing up is dismissed callously (d&d).

A perpetrator does not need time to heal btw. If I slap someone, I don't need time or opportunity to heal myself before apologising to the person I slapped. S/he's the one hurt. I'm the one that hurt them. Lucas understands this. He even apologises successfully and Will accepts it while not making a show of it. (All the scenes that follow - including firecracker stuff) Mike on the other hand never apologises and the peace they have is tentative in the aftermath of all that transpired at hawkins mall. It's not resolved just pushed back (as seen with Mike's reaction to Will giving away his D&D stuff and Will having to clarify that he will ofc play with the party - something that would never have been doubted has season 3 events not transpired cuz of Mike and then Lucas)

Freeze response is a flaw when he can't save someone ELse from getting bullied? (Victim blaming's identical twin called some more victim blaming) If the result of the response makes it a flaw or not, so far it's been a mixed bag on the show with all kinds of responses then. Freeze/Flight/Fight responses are not flaws. They're close to involuntary responses and calling them a flaw would imply premeditation on Will's part. That's just completely WRONG. No need to elaborate anything there at all.

Character traits aren't just a SWOT analysis. They are what they are and a character functions according to those. This pretty much gives final boss gunslinger Will is where his flaws will be addressed. His canonical bravery against his supernatural assailant means nothing if he isn't pummeling people to the ground, being a noisy whiny asshole or helping his sister-friend not get bullied?

What is the need and basis for this flawnalysis (analysis of flaws or flawed analysis, both work) when it's isolated from what came before and after the coconut tree of life? His freeze response is exactly that - a RESPONSE cultivated as a result of continued experience of bullying and abuse from a very young age. Whether it be on his person or something he witnessed closely around him. How is it a flaw if that is what saves him and keeps the situation from escalating? So far he's the one that's not punched someone and gotten arrested or near arrested for it, disintegrated, caused the death of unwitting people (he is one of them actually). Should that happen for him to erase that flaw?

Will internalising his feelings and then blowing up when things get right upto here is absolutely what can be considered a flaw/ negative character trait. It causes him pain and also creates discord even if temporary. It is NOT a flaw when he's keeping SOME things close to his heart though. Again, all of his responses aren't because of his flaws but some are because of things that happened previously on Stranger Things.

I absolutely look at this resurgence in finding Will's flaws an exercise taken up to find evidence for what's been ordained as truth instead of finding the said flaws in search of textual truth. A way to prop other characters or devalue Will's idk. Overlooking the tone of the show and how heavy handed the characters' designated roles in the story are to instead bestow a seriousness and prestige to the show that it does not at all, at any point in time, seek or strive for, renders the entire analysis (omg it's coming) FLAWED.

#syp #will byers #byler #stranger things #not proofread

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randomfoggytiger · 2 months ago

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Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma (Part XXIV): "There Has to Be an End"

This part of Essence and Existence is, quite frankly, exhausting, illogical, and lopsided. To solve existing problems, the characters make the worst possible choices without properly addressing or explaining other more reasonable alternatives. Further, the one justification these choices could have had-- Mulder in a state of panic brought on by a flair of fight-or-flight PTSD-- is not only underutilized but shamefully forgotten.

However: this meta is not focusing on the demerits of Season 8's finale; instead, we shall follow the thread of Mulder's choices, their outcomes, and their (too late) retraction. Even though this two-parter bungles its arc and its characters, it also attempts to course-correct its flaws (which is even more frustrating, since the corrective measures are not only in-character but should have been planned and executed from the start.)

A (SINGULAR) HELPING HAND

Scully's car won't budge-- more accurately, it can't: Billy Miles (we are left to assume) has blocked its exit by shoving two cars close to its front and bumper. Mulder and Scully begin to silently panic as he bashes the car backward, forward, and backward again.

"Mulder, lock your door," she says, jamming her fingers down in an automatic motion.

His "I don't think that matters much, Scully" assertion is immediately proven correct: Billy Miles appears from the building, laser-focused on his targets.

They remain like sitting ducks: Scully clinging to the false illusion of safety (i.e. the locked car), Mulder frozen in place as the threat advances (a combination of rational motives-- unable to move his partner quickly to safety-- and irrational reactions-- his freeze response, post here.)

And then Krycek appears, running Billy Miles over with his car and rolling down his window with theatrical aplomb. "We haven't got much time-- get in," he announces; "Let's go!" he repeats when both agents stare back in stunned stupor.

Seeing their pursuer begin to rise from the asphalt, Mulder and Scully flee, she vaulting over the dividing panel in her eager scramble to safety and he steering her from his door to Krycek's backseat.

All three are shut in the escape vehicle and peeling away into the night before Billy-Miles-That-Was stands to his full, posturing height.

THE DESOLATION OF INTELLIGENT LIFE

The next scene is a cornerstone in the insane reasoning (or lack thereof) that guides the rest of the two-parter: Mulder entertaining Krycek's rambling about aliens and God in an effort to find the truth, Mulder and Scully splitting up, Scully willingly driving off with Agent Reyes to hole up in the middle of nowhere.

There's a logical explanation that could have explained most of, though not all, of Mulder's and Scully's and Skinner's and Doggett's decisions and actions: discouragement. We see the signs plainly-- Scully slumping in a chair at the FBI, Scully ripping off the band aid no one wants to touch ("They want my baby-- why?"), Mulder switching into easy belief rather than analytical denial, Skinner pulling the trigger on Krycek, Doggett losing trust in his friends at the Bureau, and other, littler signs. Near hopelessness, grasping at any opportunity to set the world right and make it make sense.

Because the writers don't flesh out those reasons, the goal for each character is lost in a sludge of narrow-minded unfeasibility; and, ultimately, it doesn't matter which particular argument moved the needle or not because Existence erases all of it by killing off Krycek and revealing the baby is a normal miracle and giving Mulder and Scully a happy ending.

Mulder listens to Krycek's grand and glorious surmisings of the aliens' beliefs in the baby, and their fear of its larger meaning-- a sign of God, a miraculous existence, an impossible happening any which way you slice it. He, like his partner, is discouraged: Mulder came back from the dead, resigned from the files, and did his best to move forward; but his efforts weren't enough, not for those who will endlessly take and take and take. And in this sense of defeat, he makes two self-destructive choices: Scully and the baby need to disappear for the birth, and he must be as far away (and ignorant) as possible to not pose a threat to their welfare.

Mulder, in short, knows the Conspiracy-That-Be keeps close tabs on them both; and lopsidedly leaps to the conclusion that he can stay behind-- a distraction--- while Scully sneaks ahead with her life, safe. (The truth is, he needs to move forward with her, a lesson he finally learns at the climax of this episode.)

"Agent Doggett. Get on the phone," he commands, sharp and succinct above everyone's temper. 'If we're going to get Scully out of here we're going to need some help."

And everyone, without a better idea, follows his plan.

Yes, it's a stupid strategy. That aside, why did Mulder decide it was safer for he and Scully to be separated instead of disappearing together?

Although Canon never clearly answers the question, Existence fleetingly touches on a clue: Mulder turns on Doggett when the latter speculates if all the secrecy is worth it ("I'm beginning to think that the fact that I know is going to catch up with me if AD Skinner's any indication.") Snapping ferociously-- panicked-- he demands, "You don't tell anybody where she is. That's the deal, right? Not even me." This leads us to infer two important narrative details:

Mulder not only created a ruse for his partner to escape, but he also considers himself a liability to Scully's safety, unwilling to definitively believe that he won't give up her location if caught or interrogated. That is a startling thought: that Mulder, a man who would rather sacrifice himself than harm his partner, is now denying himself out of that same sacrificial nature in an effort to protect her. That is a new development; that is a juicy insight; that is never touched on ever again.

Mulder placed greater faith in Doggett's circumspection than his own instincts. Perhaps he believed Doggett had greater protection because of his friends inside the FBI; perhaps he believed in Doggett's capabilities after testing them in Vienen and Alone and Essence one-on-on (posts here and here.) Or perhaps it's a lesser of two evils: that Doggett would be a better bet than himself. That, again, is significant; and that, again, is never developed.

These inferences point to characterological changes, ones still in line with his old tendencies-- new branches grafted onto recent bark scars. They inform Mulder's actions in every episode after Deadalive; and materialize unavoidably in Essence and Existence. They are crucial to understanding why he made these idiotic choices-- offshoots of his trauma and reactionary gambles-- but are only examined minutely in the first part and mentioned once in the second.

Doggett and Reyes call up from the ground level: Billy Miles is on his way up-- time for a quick reroute. Thinking on his feet, Mulder decides to enact his role as a distraction... by shoving his pregnant, very wanted partner right into the hands of his sworn nemesis.

The ridiculousness of this scenario isn't just that Mulder shoved his pregnant partner over to Alex Krycek: the group let the latter into their plans; then iced him out from the elevator; then came back and redirected Scully towards him, needing help. They lucked out: if Krycek had had an ace up his sleeve, Scully and her baby would have been handed over to the enemy in three seconds flat.

As a side note: Is it out of the realm of possibility that Mulder and Scully and Skinner and Doggett would trust Krycek in this situation? Perhaps not; and it worked out in this case (to a degree.) But it was a risky maneuver that Mulder wouldn't have committed unless under extreme circumstances, and Scully wouldn't have agreed to unless in the direst of straights-- this was neither. There were many other options he (and Scully) could have resorted to: most obviously, it would be in Mulder's best interest to ferry his partner around, since he knows the FBI's layout more thoroughly than Alex Krycek (theoretically) and would be able to slip away with his partner and Monica Reyes had the chance arisen. And while this plan is one he'd already decided against, it would have been part of his inherent nature to escort her as far as he could, regardless, rather than hand his family over to the backstabber that got both X-Files investigators abducted. This action was not justified; and was corrected extremely late, and to little effect. Poor writing all around.

A drawn out chase scene later, Scully and Reyes escape; and Mulder watches them leave with turmoil in his eyes: relief at the plan's success, anguish at not being able to go with his partner.

MULDER'S JOURNEY FROM REQUIEM

Mulder and Doggett have a pivotal exchange while purity testing the latter's source-- one that is lost amidst the wash of bad writing and bad actions scenes. Which is a shame, as it ties in not only Mulder's long-held beliefs about the Conspiracy and his place in it, but his loss on how to break free.

Doggett, not seeing the difference between an entirely truthful or an untrustworthy informant (in the greater scheme of things) barks out, "What difference does it really make?"-- and Mulder points out, "It doesn't make any difference at all. Unless you want to protect Scully and that baby."

"And then what?" Doggett asks, cutting to the heart of the matter-- the heart of Mulder's journey post-Deadalive. In fact, the heart of Mulder's journey since he and Scully trekked back to Bellefleur: "How long can you keep this up? How long until the next Billy Miles rears his head? The next threat? The next phantom? You ever stop to ask yourself?"

Mulder shifts uncomfortably as the other man continues.

"All the sacrifice, the blood spilled-- you've given nearly a decade of your life. Where is it all going to end?"

There's a longer than usual pause before Mulder softly admits, "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't."

I've gone back and forth on the motel conversation in Requiem (post here)-- its purpose, Mulder's meaning, Scully's response-- but Existence, at least, illuminates what the writers (namely, Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz) meant.

In Requiem, Mulder has been ruminating on Scully's happiness while holding Teresa Hoese's baby when she joins him-- sick and a tad fearful. Both of them connect her abductee status with the Bellefleur case; but only one of them-- Mulder-- is willing to discuss the possibility out loud.

"It's not worth it, Scully," he begins, elaborating his thoughts quietly. "I've been thinking about it. Looking at you tonight, holding that baby... knowing everything that's been taken away from you. A chance for motherhood and your health and that baby. I think that... I don't know, maybe they're right. The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high. There is so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully."

Of note: Mulder concluded his monologue about her losses with "you need to do with your life"-- meaning, Scully needs to break away.

Does that eliminate the possibility that he was planning to step back, too? No-- but the contemplation of his own departure from the files was not as clear-sighted as Scully's. While Mulder was still lost in the realm of theory then, we've seen him use similar, one-sided logic before: in Fight the Future, he "needs" her on this but later tells her to "go be a doctor"; in Amor Fati, he leaves Scully for her own "good" and martyrs himself to a life locked inside his head. Again, that thought process is brought back in Requiem; and Existence pauses for an all-too-brief second to flesh out this reoccurring mindset:

Mulder either hasn't considered walking away from the files, truly, as Doggett posits here; or

Mulder has considered it but sees no way out ("I don't know. Maybe it doesn't.")

Scully can escape-- "Go be a doctor," he insisted in Fight the Future's close; "There has to be an end," he intones in Requiem-- but Mulder believes he cannot. It's no longer a self-sacrificial pursuit (an ugly reality he confronted and overcame in Amor Fati), but it's still no less a chain his parents forged with the Conspiracy through their complicit silence. A chain passed down to the next generation; and one he must break for his own family to live in peace.

(Sidenote: I checked the script-- post here-- and it, too, indirectly confirms that Mulder feels bound to the files. See above.)

How, and when, does he escape?

Existence offers Mulder the way out-- the chance to choose right: abandon the quest and run back to the greater truth, i.e. leave Skinner and Doggett to sort out the mytharc mess and fly as fast as he can to Scully's side. The episode later reinforces that choice as the right one by showing Mulder unlocking Scully's apartment door (post here)-- a pivotal, first-time undertaking that authenticates his new perspective of (and place in) the world-- and holding his normal, everyday miracle while kissing Scully as her equal, loving partner.

"There is so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully" transforms into" I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cold or ungrateful. I just... I have no idea where I fit in. Right now"; and finishes a journey of seven years-- a search to find his family and heal them with the truth: "I don't know. Maybe it doesn't"-- with "The truth we both know."

The pieces are there, but not elegantly slotted together-- a missed opportunity for the writers and viewers.

A TOUCH OF TRAUMA

Alex Krycek catches Mulder alone; but before he can complete the kill, Skinner intercepts his efforts and-- after a second's hard deliberation-- sinks a bullet into his skull. The A.D. is freed from Krycek's control.

Mulder spares a lingering glance at his nemesis's body, then shuts out any consideration other than joining Scully-- the decision he should have made from the start. (It's a hacky piece of writing: pretending that Mulder learned a lesson without properly exploring an initial weakness, or sin, and its consequences; but I digress.)

"I'm going to go to the airport. I need that location from Agent Doggett." His face has hardened-- Krycek is dead, and his death was deserved. Mulder will not spare guilt for someone willing to kill his partner or barter over a baby's life.

As he swiftly charges towards the car, Mulder notices Skinner standing in place, still staring down at Krycek's body. His expression shifts again: sharpness melting at the edges in concern.

"Skinner, are you with me?" he asks, eyeing his former boss until the A.D. sweeps his address aside and orders him away ("You just go. I'll get him.") It's an excellent, too-short character beat that could have been more: Mulder recognizing the trauma in someone else and, perhaps, showing what would work for him by offering it to Skinner-- a reversal of their roles in One Breath. But alas, that, too, is a mention-and-gone moment.

TRYING TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT

There are many scenes in Existence that serve to tie up old threads-- Agent Doggett's friendship with the super soldiers, Monica Reyes and Scully's misadventure, Krycek's double-dealing downfall and Skinner's revenge, etc.-- but don't slot thematically with this analysis. What does work (and will remain) is Mulder's panic over Doggett's reconsideration-- see above-- and his realization that everyone has been had by his partner's partner's FBI friends.

After Skinner saves his life, Mulder books it to Georgia as fast as possible. And what is the fastest way to get there? A helicopter.

Mulder arrives minutes-- even seconds-- after the big event, jumping from the hovering cabin into the fleet of cars.

Screaming above the retreating vehicles, he yells at Scully's unwanted visitors, demanding to know if they know where she is.

"Mulder!" Agent Reyes yells from the house, intercepting his increasing frenzy with a come-hither motion.

Darting over, he shouts, "How is she?" above the whir of the chopper wings.

"She's inside. She needs to get to a hospital!" Reyes insists, gripping Mulder's arm before he can whizz past.

Alerted, and alarmed, he stares at her face for a split second before rushing into the dark.

All in all, a sorry conclusion to his child's arrival: not only because Mulder wasn't there for the birth, but also because there was a probability that he could have made it in time-- one that was cruelly dashed for another pseudo-anticipatory "Is the baby all right?" question that is answered two scenes later.

THE BRIGHT SIDE TO THIS DISAPPOINTING CLIMAX

To make up for the rugpull of the first three-fourths of Existence's runtime, the writers etched in some bright spots for the characters.

If Mulder must be away for the birth, he was at least present shortly thereafter, able to whisk his family away to a hospital; and Scully and the baby weren't given the indignity of being stuffed back into a car to drive elsewhere for medical care.

Scully, apparently, had no-- or little-- complications. Travel is not recommended after childbirth; and absolutely discouraged after medical complications, e.g. heavy bleeding or a C-section; yet, within days (or a day) after the baby's arrival, his mother was back in Georgetown amidst her cottons and silks, baby powder and balloons. Either she was passengered nearly twelve hours by car back to D.C. or flew an hour and some minutes commercially (or stayed on the helicopter all the way back to the FBI-- you never know, with canon); but, regardless, Scully arrived home on her feet, whole and contented, for the finale conclusion. (Another miracle?) No matter which way the evidence is scrutinized, it all turns in one direction.

And lastly, the baby was born a normal human being: one the Parenti Project extension hoped would be "A perfect human child but with no human frailties" and one the aliens assumed would be a Messianic threat to their Pinky and the Brain schemes for global domination-- and one that proved them wrong on both counts (if we discard Season 9 onward as canon.) Existence's final lines confirmed this hypothesis, as does the thematic throughline of the entire season: miracles through ordinary means-- an infertile woman, pregnant, and a dead man, alive, through science (and some grounded science fiction.) Even if one were to factor in Season 9's magical baby powers, those were completely neutralized (until the Revival erased that plotline, too): a reset back to the original intent, the "normal" status quo-- a child born from Mulder and Scully's partnership, the most ordinary and beloved truth they'd ever known.

CONCLUSION

There is still one last part to go: Mulder has yet to officially meet his child, after all.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year ago

Note

How do I jumpscare my readers? Like, I want to write something that happens suddenly and unexpectedly. Which makes the reader pause and take a minute to process about what they just read. But I am afraid these "jumpscares" Might ruin the flow of my writing..or mess up the pacing

Recreating a Jump Scare in Narrative Fiction

Jump scares capitalize on the physiological reaction that is part of our body's defense mechanism against potential threats. When a sudden threat is detected, the fight-or-flight response is triggered, beginning with the startle reflex. This involuntary contraction of muscles and heightening of senses prepares us to take action in the face of a threat. As our nervous system kicks in, our blood pressure rises, the heartbeat quickens, breaths increase, and stress hormones (like adrenaline) are released. This gives us the "juice" we'll need to either fight the threat or run like hell.

In general, jump scares work because the stage has been set ahead of time to let the audience know a potential threat exists. Emotion, anticipation, and tension are built-up so that the reader expects the threat to show up, but not knowing exactly when or how creates a sense of impending danger. It's this sense of impending danger that makes the audience ripe for the triggering event whenever it does take place.

On screen, auditory and visual composition are used to increase tension, manipulate emotion, and create a sense of suspension in the moments before a jump scare. We are experiencing the event alongside the character, hearing what they hear, seeing what they see. Print, however, is a very different medium with different tools that work in a different way. Describing a dark room and scary sounds doesn't have the same effect as processing these cues with your own eyes and ears, so the reader is automatically distanced in a way a viewer isn't. Because of that, it's just not possible to recreate a jump scare in print the way you would on screen, but there are lots of things you can do to create a similar effect.

1 - Laying the Groundwork - In both print and on screen, the reader can't anticipate a threat if they don't know one exists. On screen, visual and auditory cues can be used to hint at a threat without any other context, but in print, the context has to be laid out using exposition, dialogue, and action. Techniques such as foreshadowing, pacing, and timing are also important.

2 - Setting the Scene - Even though the reader can't process visual cues with their eyes or auditory cues with their ears, you can still use sensory description to set the scene for the scary thing that's about to happen. Dimly lit rooms full of dust and shadows, peeling wallpaper and decaying furniture, musty and foul odors, cold air, creaking doors, distant thunder... Emotional details can help make the reader fell what the character's feeling... what is the character thinking? What internal emotional cues do they feel? What external emotional cues do they display or see other characters displaying? If a character walks into a house that's known to be haunted, these sensory and emotional cues help raise the tension and increase the reader's anticipation of what's about to happen.

3 - Creating Immediate Contextual Clarity - Laying the groundwork and setting the scene both help create general contextual clarity for the startling event that's about to occur, but it's also important to make sure there is immediate contextual clarity. In other words, if the reader doesn't know there's a rocking chair in the corner of the room, it's not going to be as scary when the rocking chair suddenly starts rocking even though no one is sitting in it. Likewise, a door that suddenly slams closed won't be as scary if the reader doesn't know the door is there.

4 - Interrupt the Flow and Be Jarring - Normally, we don't want to interrupt the narrative flow or do anything that will be jarring to the reader, but this is the one exception where we absolutely do want to do those things. We want to stop mid-paragraph, maybe even mid-sentence or mid-word and just drop the event right in there. We want to use strong verbs, active voice, and rapid fire sentences to create a sense of immediacy. We also want to avoid filter words. We want to say: The door slammed shut with a thunderous bang. Not: She heard the door slam shut suddenly.

5 - And BREATHE! - Finally, we want to give the reader a moment to catch their breath, let them sit for a moment with the lingering sense of dread and unease. Odds are good the character is doing the same thing, which gives you the opportunity to let the character process whatever they just experienced.

Some other posts that might help:

Horror by Darkness Horror by Daylight Adding Emotional Details to a Horror/Tragedy Scene Portraying Strong Emotions

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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hetaestoniahq · 6 months ago

Text

"Who is Estonia?"

A series of responses heavily based on little facts of culture and history with the Nordic-Baltic 8. This is just a fun little short way I thought of to talk about their relationships and history. Pretty much everything is a reference to something. This is all for fun! :D

FINLAND

Two out of three of the only independent Uralic countries to exist. You’d think it would be a heavy burden to carry, but it’s easier not being alone.

Even when I was the one to wrong him, Eduard did not change his stance. Guess it's part of being family to not always see eye to eye. It never discouraged him from rushing to my aid even when things were hard for him too. Eduard refused to let any hardship stop him from bleeding for my country. Ridiculously stubborn he is - but it’s been one of his greatest strengths. Of course I repaid him, then he proceeded to do it again. It's like a cycle of fighting for each other's freedom, one I was unable to continue because what I could do had became incredibly limited. These limited set of actions still seemed to mean the world to him. Re-independence had its rough patches, but more than ever were we glad to both be free and have each other again.

Eduard always wants what's best for both of us. He doesn't want any one of us to end up in the hands of our Eastern neighbours and puts so much time and effort into our cooperation and safety. Why do you think he became so dedicated in Cybersecurity? If he can't be a physical powerhouse, he'll be a powerhouse of the mind. Even when I was uncertain of what I will do, he did not pressure me. Instead, he promised that no matter what I decide, he will always be there for me, no matter what.

The only flag I want to see down south is a tricolour blue-black-blue, if the sun one day rises without it then I will know I have failed as a brother.

🇫🇮💙🇪🇪

NORWAY

I didn’t expect us to have many things alike outside similarities that are basic and expected for a northern nation. Never expected that something as simple as common patterns among our sweaters, hats and mittens could mean a lot more in hindsight. Another is the familiar feeling of having been thrown between nations and finally being independent again- even if our stories on that are much different.

When life told him no, he looked for another way- even though his government in exile continued to operate elsewhere, the mere fact that it was founded in Norway seemed to mean a lot to him. Perhaps it was my way of making up for the time he bled for me as well. When his own freedom was compromised, he would not sit idly and watch as someone he cared about was fighting for the same reason. As small as it may have seemed in the big picture, it is the passion and care that counts.

Estonia has always wanted to bridge any gaps between us. Inviting my people to sing in song festivals, making work deals, rushing to create a flight connection for a direct method of transport. It seems like every year Estonia finds ways to bring us a little closer, be it economic or cultural.

I too know the weight of sharing a border with Russia, partially to have so much history of dealing with him.. The Baltic’s strength is commendable.

Keep singing, songbird.

🇳🇴❤️🇪🇪

LATVIA

Long ago I used to hate Estonia. We used to be at each other's throats declaring each other “blood enemies”. It's a little funny looking back on it, the way history went on to tie us so close together. Together we saw countless wars, famines, storms, rarely were we separated through it. Sometimes I'd ask him “What do you think the world will throw at us next?” And he'd look at me and simply shrug “We'll see.”

A moment of truth was when we both fought for independence, for two new nations to be formed.

When I was backstabbed by the people who had tormented both of us for centuries, It was then I saw how our relationship had changed over the ages when Estonia without question stepped up to fight by my side. So casually my fight became his fight, no strings attached.

Estonia, his culture and language is notably different from mine, but must that mean we can't be brothers too? What brought us together was our experiences, not our blood. This applies to most of us, all I have been left with in regards to any sense of family is Lithuania. It would be a sad reality to live in if I considered only one country as worth being brothers with.

Estonia with his bond with Finland is the bridge that ties the Nordic-Baltic 8 together, but that doesn't mean me and Lithuania don't contribute to it either!

🇱🇻❤️🇪🇪

LITHUANIA

You'd think that with how different our history till the last century is, that I would be a weak link in all this, right?

I would not say so, even if there's some truth in the fact that I am not as close to Estonia as some others might be, it's the continuous effort to bring us together that counts.

Our old history includes fights here and there, the Balt Estonia once held close is no longer with us and with the Finnic brothers he has seen fade - he shares our pain of loss. Our enemies have often been the same, but back then we failed to see unity. What would have happened if we realised that far sooner? We’ll never know.

Our time together under the commonwealth was brief but the time under Russian rule slowly gave us a new opportunity.

The moment all three of us became independent, Estonia was the one to seek ways to bring us closer. Of course the main motive for it was to stand together stronger in the scenario of our east neighbour attacking, it still planted seeds for more than just that.

Latvia may be the one linking the Baltics together, but if it was necessary for me to be the one to reach out and hold his hand instead - I would not find it strange.

I'll always enjoy sitting back and enjoying some ice cream together, basking under a shared free sun.

🇱🇹❤️🇪🇪

ICELAND

I know the feeling of not being seen or heard, I decided a change was needed and took the first step. I never expected how much my simple words of “I recognize you as an independent country” would be worth more than gold. I became seen as a true friend, a “fellow small country”, an icebreaker, a name immortalised on a memorial- for just stubbornly expressing my stance? They seemed surprised when I showed my gratitude with a similar gesture.

Neither of us care for large mighty extravagant buildings as tourist attractions, instead we value and guide people to explore what mother nature has gifted us. I appreciate having him around. Even if I were the only Nordic to feel this way - I would still speak up for him.

🇮🇸❤️🇪🇪

DENMARK

Resilient, stubborn and always ready to improve - that's how I would describe Estonia.

I was part of the era that turned his history dark, I had celebrated victory for conquering a fierce land. When I had pointed my sword to his throat to submit him to the Danish crown, Estonia stood up and said “I will never die, no matter what you do to me.”

That was a promise.

Instead of looking at me with distaste for what I did to him so long ago, these memories instead are proof that we have always been connected. The flag of my nation - Dannebrog, stands as the strongest symbol of that. Hah! Why do you think Tallinn keeps showing it off all over the place? Give the coat of arms a closer look while you're at it! My guess is it's how Eduard expresses holding something dear.

It was like a hit of nostalgia to come back 700 years after that battle, hearing of Eduard’s fight for independence.

Like repaying a debt of honour, I couldn't sit back and watch a wounded land fight against a giant alone. I knew I had to do at least something, even if the government was not the most supportive of it. Two hundred men out of two thousands who were able to go and able to risk their lives in the end may seem small, but their effort was a success that brought honour to the crown.

This turn in history gave us another chance to start over, kindling a friendship neither of us thought we could ever have, before being struck with another turn that took him away from us again. I sat in silence refusing to accept it until he and his Baltic brothers reminded the world of their existence and stepped up to stand in support.

I made sure to keep the promises I made. I had 50 lost years to make up for, so I gave a hand in as many areas as I possibly could.

I'm proud to be his friend and I know that if he falls then I might too, which is why I know I can never let that happen. Never again will I let that happen.

🇩🇰❤️🇪🇪

SWEDEN

Most people don't realise how far back we go.

I saw Eduard at his fiercest point, a land that would strike fear into kings and just as easily burn what he didn’t like. He wasn’t someone to upset and yet I kept poking at him like a bear with a stick.

He allowed my people to come as settlers into uninhabited areas, despite his experience with foreigners taking and taking from him. Those settlers seemingly became a natural part of his nation, honoured even if most of them are now gone.

Something I quickly learned was how studious Eduard is, someone who picks up new skills incredibly fast. To think Eduard steadily became one of the most literate parts of the Russian empire back in the day makes me wonder how much of it was the seeds of education I planted or his hard work in fighting to keep it.

I tried my best to give my part in his fight for independence, turns out my support in this fight had been something his people had fantasized for decades. To think that after the way I left the people would continue to hold Sweden so dear in their hearts as the words “Good ol’ Swedish age” would be carried from generation to generation. Of course once given the opportunity we reconnected, provided a warm welcome.

Guilt gnawed at me every year as freedom had been so easily robbed from him again. I made mistakes. Mistakes I've apologised for repeatedly. Because of all the people given a chance of freedom and a normal life that my land gave - it's been forgiven. Sweden became a place where people could gather and continue the fight in safety - I am proud to have been able to have a role like that.

I am glad to have been given the chance to now stand as close to equals as possible.

All I hope is that Eduard learns to truly value and love himself more, do not let the ignorant voices shake him now.

🇸🇪❤️🇪🇪

All of us together, we will thrive as the Nordic-Baltic 8 and all of us are glad to have Estonia be part of it. It wouldn't be the same without any one of us, which is why we will continue to stand together no matter what others try to claim we are.

With love,

Northern Europe

🇮🇸🇳🇴🇩🇰🇸🇪🇫🇮🇪🇪🇱🇻🇱🇹

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sunflowersunite · 4 months ago

Note

Happy Valentine’s Day 💝

Sending this ask to my favourite Levihan blogs… Let’s spread our love for our amazing OTP!

Any Valentine’s Day headcanons for Levihan (canon setting or any au) you’d like to share?

Heyy Val! Happy belated Valentine's and thank you for asking, that was lovely to receive (and it's good to be one of your fave Levihan blogs 😁). Sorry for the late response, I had to think about it thoroughly and now I think I've got it.

So let's see. Any AU? Then how about we spice things up a little? Headcanons for an enemies to lovers Levihan AU!

(for that let's assume they're past the enemy stage and are now together. and for some reason the law is after them, so they're outlaws in love *guitar riff* 🎸)

Levi would gift Hange chocolate (not poisoned this time, he's proven it). She'd gift him tea, varieties impossible to find in Paradis (yes she bought them in the black market and no we can't be sure that's not poisoned)

they both scorn Valentine's day but deep down they always appreciate an opportunity to spend time together. So for their date they pick the place where they had their first fight, supposedly ironically but the memories

Hange fondly reminisces about almost blasting Levi's head off and how much they despised each other back then. Levi tells her to shove it. Hange constantly jabs and teases him, trying to crack his stoic facade and get him to fight her again, settle who's best once and for all

she initiates a fight and Levi can't escape her wrath so rematch it is. The rules are simple, first one to draw blood wins

Hange wins. in the end she pins Levi down and kisses him on the forehead so he doesn't really mind

Hange gifts Levi a bouquet of her favourite flowers and knowing her they're very weird and very poisoned. Levi accepts them and takes her titan hunting in return. they spend their evening chasing and studying titans. (Maybe he wants to see her smile a little, so what)

there's this huge celebration in Mitras so they sneak in disguised, blending in with the military police

Hange tugs Levi to the dance floor, feeling bold after a couple drinks. they purposefully bump into Nile, making him spill champagne over his formal suit

Levi nearly drops his guard among enemies because Hange's happy and laughing and she looks drop dead gorgeous (even though that laughter elicits a fight or flight response from everyone around. Who cares, she's beautiful when she sounds insane)

the night almost ends on a bittersweet note because they're reminded that they can never really be free on this island with everyone chasing them. they can never have a normal stable life but when did they ever?

stealing a bunch of food as they get out of there and spend the night stargazing on the rooftops till sunrise. Hange looks at the sky, Levi looks at her because deep down he's a cheesy bastard 🌙

Thank you for the ask!! 😃

#I'm not saying “to live” but I'm also not NOT saying it #levi ackerman #levihan #hange zoe #levihan headcanons #hanji x levi #youre-ackermine ✨#mutuals #if i had a nickel for every time levihan sneaked in a masked ball on valentine's #answered asks #I'm referencing the vampire au so what

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crazylittlejester · 1 year ago

Note

Uh, here! Have a little story!

~~~~~

"This would be easier if you'd sit still."

Wild curled his fingers into the fallen log he was sitting on as the Captain once again brought the saltwater-soaked rag up to his reddened ear. A pair of brand-new earrings with bloodied posts sat on the bark next to him. "I'm trying," he said, wincing and pulling back again. In lieu of a fight-or-flight response, he shifted in his seat and occupied himself by readjusting his hair band. "Why's it have to burn so much, though?"

Wars sighed and set his rag back in the bucket. He gave Wild's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Because it's killing the infection. Let's see how we're looking now." He shifted his hand to the back of Wild's head, who in turn leaned forward. With his other hand, Wars pressed gently against the back of the miniscule hole in Wild's ear. He winced sympathetically when more blood and puss oozed out. He fished the rag out of the bucket and resumed his work.

Wild didn't even know Legend was around until he climbed over the log and sat down, his back leaning against it. Legend looked over at the sparkling (albeit gross) earrings, then up at Wild's feverish ears, and folded his arms. "This is why we don't have nice things," he huffed.

Wild shrugged. "What did you expect me to do with them?" he asked, gritting his teeth as Wars soaked more of the disinfectant down into the wound.

"Sorry," Wars muttered, not looking away from the infected piercing as he dipped his rag into the bucket again.

"I guess I just expected you to, I don't know, switch them around like anyone else would???" Legend sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I certainly didn't expect you to just jab them through your cartilage. Go figure."

"Well, I thought that they would all look nice together!" Wild had pulled his hair over the front of his shoulder, weaving small braids into the tips. "And how else are you supposed to pierce your ears?"

Wars paused, looking Wild dead in the eyes. He spoke with crisp (almost sharp) enunciation. "You're supposed to make sure everything's clean. And that you keep it that way." Wild gulped and nodded, and Wars resumed.

Legend chuckled and leaned back, arms draped over the log behind him. "I guess we should just be relieved that you failed to convince Sailor to let you pierce his ears! I doubt he'll ever go for it now, though."

"I think you'd be surprised," Warriors added off-handedly, still fixated on the task at hand.

"But I mean, still, didn't you have to keep your original piercings clean?" Legend asked, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "Or did you just let them fester so long they stabbed over in self-preservation?"

"I dunno." Wild shrugged, now braiding the smaller braids together. "I've had earrings for as long as I can remember." Legend nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"There. I think that's all of it, at least for now." Wars dipped his rag in the salt water one last time, now wiping down the earring posts. "Will you want help getting these back in?"

"I've got it, thanks though." Wild slid them back into his ears, wincing only slightly. "Seriously though, thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me yet," Wars said, as he began gathering all his things. "We'll have to do this several more times, I'm sure." He tried to put on a sympathetic smile, as Wild visibly drooped.

"Well, you won't be receiving any more earrings, that's for sure." Legend stood up and stretched, pretending to ignore Wild's dramatic and betrayed gasp.

"Surely you jest? Surely I've learned my lesson??" Wild clasped his hands pleadingly, batting his eyelashes and pouting.

"Nope, don't wanna hear it," Legend said, turning and walking back to camp. "You can't be trusted. From now on, you're only getting earcuffs, and those little clasp-ons they make for small children."

Legend let out a yelp of laughter as Wild came up and shoved him from behind, and tried to retaliate before they both took off running and laughing; shouting biteless threats and accusations all the while. Wars shook his head and smiled, following behind them.

~~~~~

So, uh, all this to say: keep yapping! Regardless of how involved I am with LU (my hyperfixations have been varying WILDLY lately), your posts always brighten my feed! Thank you!

THANK YOU FOR THE LITTLE STORY I LOVE IT SO MUCH!! This would absolutely happen to poor Wild

also im glad you like my yapping, i will continue to do so

#jes talks #jes ask #linked universe #lu warriors #lu legend #lu wild #lu fic

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vividhollow · 2 months ago

Text

I finally finished making reference sheets for my OCs so I can animate them. I'm almost done writing the script for the little animation series, I just need to finish editing and revising, and then I'm showing someone I know so I can get a little criticism. Also, I figured that now would be a good time to rant about these characters and the story before I begin animating.

[This is a pretty long rant but whatever]

ABOUT THE SERIES ITSELF

The series is going to be called Fear Response, mainly because the three main characters, Kora, Riko, and Olly (Which I just call "The trio" for short), are sort of based off of the fear responses flight, fight, and freeze. Lake and Betty have a minor role and don't get much attention in the story, but I'll find a way to give them more attention eventually. for the setting, there are two towns that are pretty close to each other, Chesilet and Trinsald. Odd things have been happening at both towns, but mainly at Trinsald. The story starts off with the trio having a sleepover at Riko's house in Chesilet and eventually going to Trinsald. I'm not going to say much about the story because I don't want to spoil it yet.

LAKE DORRIS(She/Her, 35)

A police officer in Chesilet. In the story, her job is supposed to be investigating the strange things on her own because no one else has been showing up for work. She often finds the trio exploring abandoned places when they're not supposed to and usually has to drive them home and lecture them about being safer. She's seen as a parental figure by the three of them and is married to Betty. She often gets frustrated when she can't find a solution to something, so she'll give up on it and either get back to it later or completely forget about it until it gets worse.

BETTY CHERISE(She/They, 36)

She works at a pizza place in Chesilet most of the time (which is where the first scene takes place in the animation) but babysits for Riko quite often. She is also seen as a parental figure by the trio. This is mostly because she's around when Riko has sleepovers with the other two, so she has to watch over all three of them every once in a while. She's a lot less strict than Lake, which is why the trio(mostly Riko) gets away with more things around her, or something like that. She likes to wear jewelry, mostly to fidget with sometimes, and has an entire stash of jewelry that she doesn't use. She mainly uses the same ones every day.

OLLY MAUD(Any pronouns, they're agender, 15)

They're pretty quiet compared to the other two. They're the only one who actually lives in Trinsald. Their parents are divorced. They live with their mom in Trinsald most of the time and visit their dad in Chesilet on the weekends. They often feel drained and tired because of the amount of effort they put into getting good grades for school, and are pretty scared of getting in trouble or being seen in a negative way by others. As much as they procrastinate, they manage to turn their work in, although it is often messy or rushed. They have four younger siblings, two that are biological siblings, and two that are their mom's boyfriend's kids. They often isolate themself to avoid anymore responibility outside of school, and usually only talk with Kora or Riko.

KORA METTA(She/Her, 15) [Small mention of suicide btw]

Kora is the one in the trio that is more rational. She often runs away from her problems. As scared as she is of exploring abandoned places, Riko convinces her to go anyway. She used to live in Trinsald until her parents wanted to move to Chesilet. She had an older brother at some point when she lived in Trinsald, until he committed suicide, which is one of the main reasons her parents wanted to move. When her brother had died, she avoided talking to anyone, her parents, her teachers, and even Riko and Olly. Eventually she stopped isolating herself as much when she moved away and tried to forget about her brother and his suicide. She wears glasses and is near-sighted. Also, a little fun fact, she's a trans girl.

RIKO ALECTO(They/Them, 15)

They're pretty bossy and are sort of the "leader" of the trio. They often can't tell right from wrong and end up getting in trouble often. They also don't think much before they speak and end up hurting others' feelings without realizing it or meaning to. They don't really pay attention to what's safe or not, especially when they suggest to the other two that the three of them should explore abandoned places for fun. Their parents are always busy with work and are away a lot, which is why Riko is babysat despite being fifteen. Their parents view them as too chaotic and not "mature" enough to be left alone at home. Riko has no siblings, and originally lived in Trinsald until they moved due to work related reasons. They are a bit chaotic and stubborn, but they don't really know better.

And yeah, that's pretty much all I'll say about them for now. Feel free to ask questions about them if you want, I love to yap about them. Once I'm finished writing the script, I'll begin animating and stuff, but that might not start until summer because I'm still in school for another month.

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possessionisamyth · 6 months ago

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Okay, so I figured out my issue with the latest surge of ship fics with Leon in it, most specifically when it involves Chris or another man (as Luis fics have made a huge jump to challenge Chreon numbers).

Often times for the sake of creating drama, angst, hurt/comfort, whatever you decide to label it, there is a blatant removal of Leon's agency. By this I mean, suddenly he can't defend himself from physical threats. The reason for this being the author decides to give him a trauma flashback or some kind of sudden crippling anxiety so that Chris or Luis or whoever can play hero.

Now why this bothers me in particular, on top of the follow up babying he receives in order to be stable again, is that this narrative decision almost always comes off as condescending at best. Or an egregious misunderstanding of his character at worst.

This isn't to say Leon can't have trauma that reflects in a way where he is struggling mentally. He does have this. He has his vices in which he handles them too which we've seen like lashing out or drinking. It just this specific scenario being set up doesn't work in fanfic for me, because at some point the shift turns into making Leon the author's voice box and not a character examination. I want to know what part of Leon's years of training and fighting bioweapons, trauma included, would suddenly make him incapable of physically fighting back. His response post RC has never been freeze or flight, it has always been fight, so why are people giving him the freeze reaction?

I think the only time I've seen this executed in a way that made sense is when there was a distinct power imbalance between him and the assailant. Meaning Leon's method of fighting back is quite literally removed from him due to bureaucracy. Even then, that only works with people in the government who hold jurisdiction over him. More often than not, this is not the case with fanfic that make this narrative choice.

Now, I know we are all piggy backing off of each other when it comes to fanfic ideas. We inspire each other and get plot bunnies from even just a line or two from a fic we're reading that makes us want to write fic of our own. What I don't understand is why this particular facet of writing Leon is such a phenomenon.

Is it because they don't want to write a fight scene? Is it because they have a misunderstanding of Chris' character where he always has to step in and "kiss Leon's booboos cause Leon can't do anything without a man." Is it because they're just projecting their own emotions on a character who has shown some pretty bad depression tendencies and isn't a woman? Is it because they're relying on old yaoi tropes that have become so ingrained in shipping rhetoric that they don't even realize they're doing it? I could think of a dozen reasons and not have a real answer.

All I know is that, it's not great to read 1 morbillion times. I'm not saying there can't be a breakdown. I am saying Leon holds onto his emotions too tightly to let it inhibit him from getting out of the situation first. Because there's a lot more to play with of Leon fighting a panic attack, or a break down while in a physical altercation where he holds his own. I just barely see anyone do that ever and everyone wants to be boring about this. And before anyone says "write what you want to see", let it be known my first venture into this fandom was doing exactly this. I just don't know why no one else is. I'm baffled by it!

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #fanfiction #fanfic #re2 #re4 #re6 #re rambling

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melonthesprigatito · 3 months ago

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Recently started a new playthrough of Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom so I'm back on my Rito hyperfixation again 👍

I dug up an old OC I drew back when Echoes of Wisdom was announced (because I just assumed they'd be in the game so I wanted to predict what they would look like in the Link's Awakening/Echoes of Wisdom art style) and spent the last two days redrawing her and rethinking her lore to fit in the Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom version of Hyrule instead.

THE LORE:

She lost her parents at a young age due to a disease that spread in the village, so she grew up without a family.

She idolised the Rito Champion Revali since she was a fledgling and spent years dreaming that she would become a master archer like him. She often got in trouble when she was younger because she'd skip singing practice to watch the warriors train at the Flight Range and copy their techniques.

Unfortunately, because of Rito cultural values only Rito men were allowed to train as warriors, while Rito women were railroaded into more domestic roles like learning their traditional songs, making clothing and arrows or working as merchants etc. She absolutely refused to settle down and rejected any attempt by the Rito Elder (Kaneli) to set her up with a suitor.

She spent her entire life secretly teaching herself archery out of spite while shirking her responsibilities and was basically the village outcast for a while She faced mockery at best and ostracism at worst for refusing to take part in their traditions. She pretends not to care, reasoning that Revali was also a lone wolf. If he could become a legendary warrior by himself, so can she.

Eventually, she ran away from home to become a travelling merchant. Or at least, that's what she wants Kaneli to believe. While she does OCCASIONALLY do actual merchant stuff, most of her time is taken up by moonlighting as a monster slayer.

By hiding her identity, she's free to use her archery skills in combat by raiding monster camps and stealing their supplies, which she then sells in her merchant job. Her favourite monster is the Frost Talus, because she can defeat them by raining fiery arrow hell and swipe the gems and ores left behind to sell for profit.

She's also somewhat of a minor annoyance to the Yiga Clan because she's very good at noticing when somebody is pretending to be an unassuming traveller. Because she's also a skilled fighter pretending to be an unassuming traveller. Which then results in her ambushing their ambush and kicking their asses because it's very easy to win a fight when you can fly and your opponent can't.

She has some minor wind control abilities, and while she's not nearly as proficient at it as Tulin or Revali, she can just about manage a weaker version of Revali's Gale and some tiny tornadoes.

She's maybe just a liiiiittle teeny tiny bit jealous of Tulin becoming the Sage of Wind and owning the Great Eagle Bow, but she also knows that beefing with a literal child is a bit silly.

She has an intense rivalry with another travelling merchant: Beedle. She thinks he's annoying, he thinks she's sketchy.

She likes hanging around in Gerudo Town because unlike Rito Village, they're totally cool with women warriors and they like sparring with her. She had a heart attack when she stumbled across Frita (that one Rito who was looking for poultry in the market) because she thought she'd snitch on her, but Frita was surprisingly fine with it and promised not to say a word, because whatever happens in Gerudo Town, stays in Gerudo Town.

When she found out that Link and Princess Zelda were alive at the time of the Calamity and knew Revali in person, she had a complete fangirl attack and booked it straight to Hateno Village to ask them all about him. She didn't get anything from Link, because you know, amnesia. And he doesn't talk much. But Zelda was happy to share what little she knew about him. They talked for hours and it was the best day of Rubee's life.

She's definitely bumped into Kass a couple of times and lowkey considers him to be her opposite. He abandoned his warrior training to become a bard. She abandoned her singing lessons to take up archery.

On the flip side, she's TERRIFIED of bumping into Penn and avoids the Lucky Clover Gazette like the plague. She's paranoid that he'll discover what she's doing and blab all about it in the latest issue of the papers and spread them all over Hyrule.

During the Upheaval's blizzard, she begrudgingly returned to Rito Village to help out with scavenging for food and supplies. She may have disliked all those stuffy traditionalists, but she didn't want anyone to starve to death either, especially because she also lost her parents to a lack of lifesaving medicine that couldn't be delivered in time. She had to fight the urge to hunt with her bow because it would blow her cover, so she resorted to searching for firewood instead.

While the previous Rito Elder thought she had finally given up on that silly warrior dream and got a respectable job as a merchant, unfortunately Teba isn't stupid. He was fully aware that Rubee frequently snuck into the Flight Range to practice at night and is now going out and about firing arrows everywhere but he doesn't really know what to do about it. He's a little more open minded and has decided to look the other way for now because plot twist; his beloved wife Saki also practiced archery (enough that he gives her BOMB ARROWS to defend their home with! Actually canon!) but gave up on it years aho to take care of their newly hatched son.

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thezombieprostitute · 10 months ago

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New Moon - Part 2

Summary: You wake up after being attacked and find out werewolves do exist and you're now one of them.

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

A/N2: The tags from the previous chapter indicated Beck was an Omega but I'm retconning that a bit to have him be a Beta.

Warnings: Hospital setting, Implied violence

Part 1 -- Part 3

The next week is a muddle of eating, sleeping, and learning how to live with your improved senses. Hal, Jake and Chris are all very patient with you and very respectful as well. You'd asked about female accompaniment but, apparently, some tropes are real and female werewolves are few and far between. But all three of them were gentlemen and always respected your boundaries, for which you were grateful.

In some ways you felt like a teenager going through puberty again. Your body was building new muscles and you frequently underestimated your strength. Your proprioception was incredibly off. Meanwhile your appetite was off the charts and you had no sense of a circadian rhythm as your body kept deciding to fall asleep at random times for long hours.

Whenever you were awake the guys worked hard to help you adapt to everything. You lost count of how many times Hal had to catch you because you were stumbling over your own two feet. Jake was a big help when it came to relearning scents. And Chris was always quick with an answer to your question of "what's going on?" You'd often cry in frustration and he'd explain to you while Hal held you and purred and Jake held your hand, providing water or food if you needed it. They were quite the effective care team.

The next full moon was coming up quick and you were scared. The last full moon was nothing but pain followed by weeks of, essentially, physical therapy.

"I won't sugar coat it," Chris cautions. "This next full moon will be tough for all of us. You've developed more of that werewolf strength and you're likely to grow full claws and fangs this time around. It's going to be painful for you, of course, but it's also going to be more dangerous for us. So our focus is going to be on keeping you calm and trying to mitigate the pain."

"That's part of the reason we've been doing scent training," Jake adds. "Gotta know which ones aggravate and annoy as opposed to being neutral or calming."

"Why can't you just restrain me for all of it? If it's so dangerous, shouldn't I be shackled to the bed or something?"

Chris shakes his head, "your fight or flight response is going to go into overdrive during all of this. Restraining you with manacles or something will only make it worse. You're much more likely to hurt yourself and then still hurt us."

"But that's a big part of why I'm here," Hal adds. "Young moons, such as yourself, are much more prone to influence from Alphas. Hopefully my purring will be enough but I do have Alpha commands if needed."

"Commands?"

"Both Alphas and Omegas have something," Chris jumps in. "When you were first found, Aisha, an Omega, tried to use her Omega tone to calm you down. They also have a kind of purr as well. Alphas, like Hal here, can bark an order that every fiber of your being will want to obey."

"Do Betas have anything?"

"We have an intelligence bonus," Jake smirks. "Alphas and Omegas both get bonuses to charisma, one for intimidation, the other for persuasion, but Betas get intelligence."

"And werewolves, in general, get a bonus to constitution, strength and wisdom-perception?" Your knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons is limited but you think you know what Jake is talking about.

This is confirmed when his face lights up, "you play D&D?!"

You give a small smile, "just some 5th edition stuff."

Jake grabs you for a hug. "When you're accepted into the pack, you're joining me for game nights!"

Part 1 -- Part 3

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

#werewolf au #jake jensen #hal carter #chris beck #female!reader #alpha!hal carter #beta!jake jensen #beta!chris beck

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meowcats734 · 1 year ago

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(prompt response) A tiny dragon and a crow fight over a gold coin. They’re both equally strong, and both can fly. The crow is smart enough to dodge the fire, and the dragon is trying not to melt the coin. They tussle on the street.

We were set for shelter thanks to the Redlands' forgiving climate, and Mairel's ghost combined with my foraging skills meant we were good for food and water. I wasn't exactly sure what the limitations of the ghost were, but Sansen assured me that the soulspace entity from the Plane of Nostalgia was limited in what it could do—mostly, bringing memories from its past to life, spending them one by one.

I felt a little sad taking advantage of the ghost of Sansen's old crush like that, but it was clear from experimentation that the clump of soul fragments that made up Mairel's ghost wasn't sentient, and was perfectly happy to help us in any way it could. If we could have a slightly higher chance of not dying before we found Jiaola and got the hell away from this nightmare war, I'd gladly sacrifice a hundred ghosts and memories to save one living person.

"So how come it's not sentient, but people like Odin and I am?" Meloai asked. I had no idea how her clockwork body repaired itself, but she seemed to have recovered from her flight through the Plane of Elemental Cold, because she could walk longer than any of us—and for the entire day, too. She offered to shapeshift into a horse and give us all a ride, but... something about that just felt sleazy, and it was pretty clear that she had no idea how to control a horse's body anyway, so we all walked for now until we could think up a faster method of transport.

"I think it has something to do with the number of memories that happened to agglutinate at that point in soulspace," Sansen said. "Or maybe the diversity of memories? I could tell that Mairel's ghost was... well, Mairel's. There weren't any elements from other people's minds, as far as I can tell."

"Hey, yeah. And that creepy little mimic I, er, threw into the void way back when—the only soul fragment that came out of that was my mother's. And it sure as hell wasn't sentient."

"That reminds me—what were you doing in the Plane of Elemental Falsehood in the first place?" Lucet asked, tilting her head towards me.

"Odin was fucking with me," I said. It was the safe response. Liquid metal flushed through my soul, but I ignored it. "So, wait, Meloai, when we're feeding you the soul fragments from the animals we hunt, is that making you... smarter, or something?"

Meloai giggled awkwardly. "Sort of? But not in the way you think! I have to, uh, consume a certain amount of memories per day. In theory, I could survive indefinitely by consuming my memories as quickly as I produced them—that's how most soulspace entities just sort of keep existing—but then I wouldn't get to form new memories with you guys, having a good time and learning about the world. So... I consume other things' memories, instead." She paused, frowning. "It's not very efficient, though. I need to eat the right... kind... of memories. Ones charged with insecurity."

"Huh." Lucet turned to Sansen. "Hey, speaking of which, do you have any idea where memories that get eaten by soulspace entities... go? Our old teacher sort of stonewalled us on the topic."

Sansen shrugged. "Too theoretical for my tastes. Wouldn't they just get destroyed?"

"Soul fragments can't get destroyed, only transformed," Meloai said.

"According to the Academy," I added.

"Okay, yeah, but if there's one place where we'd expect a little less propaganda, it'd be the realm of science, no? It's an empirically observed fact, and we ran some experiments to confirm it."

"Yes, true, cool—counterpoint: the Academy harvested our fucking emotions to power their war machine. I'm not trusting anything that came out of that 'education' that I can't verify with my own two hands."

"Hey, uh, guys?" Lucet said. "I hate to interrupt, but... are you three seeing this?"

Sansen muttered something about poor old eyes, but Meloai and I stopped in our banter, turning to face the end of the dirt road we'd been following for the past week.

The village was utterly and clearly ruined, even from this distance. The sky was scribbled over with slashes of darkness, and there wasn't a building taller than an outhouse left standing.

"What is it?" Sansen asked, squinting at the horizon.

Nobody wanted to say "probably a massacre," but I was a Redlander. I was used to it. "Probably a massacre," I said, and my voice was surprisingly calm. It was only the third village I'd seen this way, but it already felt... familiar. Like slipping into an old torture rack, made comfortable from years of use. "It's a standard Redlands tactic. There's some valuable piece of land that everyone wants—a particularly fertile field, a really good aquifer, whatever—but nobody's able to hold it for long. So someone who knows they can't have it decides nobody else can, either, and tears open rifts until the place is uninhabitable. Then they move on to go fight over some other piece of land and forget about it until a year or two have passed and the rifts have mostly closed over. And the next batch of villagers settle in, name the place after the rifts that killed the last group of poor bastards to live there, and hope they have a decade or so before the cycle repeats itself all over again."

"Fuck," Lucet murmured. "I'm sorry, Cienne."

I shook my head. "It's... it's just the way things are. Come on. These rifts don't look as bad as they could be—let's check for survivors."

"What kind of rifts are we walking into?" Sansen absently asked.

"Darkness," I said. "If we encounter a shadow, we should probably just run. Demons of Fear can be fucking terrifying, and I don't... there's nothing here to be happy about. I can't use joy right now."

"Let me see," Sansen said, and two lenses of possibility swirled into existence around his eyes. He shook his head. "Very unlikely for there to be demons in the near future. Best bet is that the forces that clashed here—and let's be real, this was the Silent Peaks against the Order of Valhalla—already dealt with them, one way or another."

"Then let's get going."

Grimly, the four of us marched towards the ruined village, three of us keeping a lookout in space, one of us keeping a lookout in time. Nobody detected any threats, but I was still jumpy for the entire journey.

Meloai and Lucet seemed like they had a pretty good coverage of realspace, so I closed my eyes and looked into soulspace. The cluster of memories that made up Meloai was beginning to grow into visibility, although it was still small in comparison to the souls of the three humans in the party. Aside from us, though, there weren't many lifeforms in the village, and those that were seemed to mostly be dumb animals. I could tell from the emotions—mostly monotone, tiny drops of joy or crystals of sorrow...

...except, wait, I'd nearly overlooked it, since its soul was so small, but there was a more complex soul. It had the simple emotions like sorrow and fear, yes, but there were glass shards of shame and sticky black thorns of self-hatred, and those were emotions I uniquely associated with what it meant to be human.

"Hold on," I said, eyes still closed. "I think I found something. A sapient soul, this way." I pointed towards where the soul would have corresponded to in realspace. Nobody questioned me—with my nine attunements, I had by far the broadest range of emotions I could see with my soulsight, and even though it didn't make me a master witch by any means, it gave me an edge in situations like this.

Even as the four of us inched closer to the broken rubble that I'd sensed the soul in, in my soulsight I felt the soul breaking apart. Fuck, the only person who could tell us what had happened here was already dying. "Quickly," I said, kneeling down to excavate the rubble.

Meloai pushed me aside without even thinking and hefted, clockwork tick-tick-ticking as strength a dozen times more than I could possibly output lifted a massive wooden beam off the ground.

At what she saw beneath, Meloai froze—not in the living, breathing way a human might, but in the perfect form of a statue that reminded me of her home in endless halls of oil and clockwork.

The girl who'd been crushed beneath the falling beam was undeniably dead. Nobody could survive watering the grass like that.

But the soul I had sensed stirred, and I knelt down, lifting up the girl's hand to reveal... a crow. Jet-black, beautiful, bloodied, and broken. But still alive, for now.

"Can you—" Lucet began.

"I never attuned forgiveness," I said, and it was disgusting how level my voice was. "It's not an emotion for me."

"Fuck," Lucet whispered. "And there aren't any other sapient souls in the village?"

"Not that I can sense," I said. Calm, sorrow, passion, insecurity, joy, fear, spite, guilt, self-hatred—even with the nine fields of magic I could now touch, I couldn't even save a fucking crow.

Well. At the very least, my oldest attunement was in perfect working order.

The crow shifted in my hands, letting out a faint wheeze. For a moment, I could have sworn it was trying to tell me something.

And then, in a flash of insight, I realized that it still could.

"You two. Choose an emotion," I said, "and I'll open up a rift. Meloai, you just do what you do."

Lucet blinked, uncomprehending, but Meloai got it immediately. "What?" Lucet asked.

"We've got exactly one witness to what happened here," I explained, "and their memories are about to be scattered throughout thoughtspace. Maybe if we're lucky, we can catch them as they go."

"Worth a shot," Sansen said. "I'll take care of my own rift, thank you."

"I'm... comfortable with the Plane of Sorrow," Lucet said. "You just focus on yourself."

I nodded, oil welling up from my soul as I let my passion swell. The dying crow almost seemed to nod at me as three witches and one demon prepared to dive into the crow's memories.

Then the crow's soul shattered, and I slashed my way between realities to try and catch a shard before it was lost forever.

And I was no longer Cienne, the helpless little boy who was still hopelessly in over his head.

I was the crow. I liked shiny things and eating clams. I disliked fire and pointy knives. I was the crow. I was the crow—

###

Astrenn needed the Shiny. Even though my feathers were singed, even when the Angry Thing swiped at me with its claws, Astrenn needed the Shiny. And so I would get the Shiny. It didn't matter how long it took, it didn't matter how distracting the village was (ooh! Is that tinsel? I love tinsel. No. No, focus. Astrenn needed the Shiny.) The Angry Thing was dumb, and even though it was strong and magical, I was clever-clever, fast-fast. I would win eventually.

The first thing to do was to get to a friendly nest. Right now, we were near the nest of the Large Baker—who used the Angry Things for cook-fires and shooed away me from the Delicious Breads. If the Large Baker came out on the street to investigate, Astrenn would never get the Shiny. So I flew to a nearby bin of Smelly Rotten Mush and tipped it over with a wingflap.

I knew this much about the Angry Things: they had a powerful sense of smell. And so as soon as the Smelly Rotten Mush poured out onto the street (to the dismay of the Large Baker), the Angry Thing awkwardly flapped away, the Shiny in its claws. I grabbed a small pebble (and a tinsel, for later), and shot into the sky, my feather-silent wings swift where the clunky, impossible weight of the Angry Thing farted along on inelegant wind magic.

"Caw," I said, and released the stone.

The Angry Thing must have been stupid, because it didn't even try to dodge the stone that thunked on its head. Unfortunately, the Angry Thing was a big ball of scales (shiny? No, not Shiny. Focus. Astrenn needed the Shiny) and probably wasn't even hurt by the rock. Which was no fair. Even the hard-hard-hard clams from the market got split open by a high-heavy-dropped rock. But at the very least, the Angry Thing dropped the Shiny, letting it twinkle to the ground like a wish upon a star.

Astrenn would get the Shiny. Astrenn had to get the Shiny.

I dove down, folding my wings tight and close to my body like how I'd seen the swooping-fast-kill-above birds do, and snatched the Shiny out of the air. The Angry Thing dove after me, but it had fallen into my trap.

For these fields of amber grain were the nests of the Old Farmer, and they appreciated me for my ability to hunt-find-eat mice more than the Angry Things that set their barns and crops on fire.

The Angry Thing dove after me, heat lighting up in its maw as I settled on the ground, and I knew the Angry Thing thought it had victory in its stupid little claws.

But then, like a thunderbolt, a broom head slapped the Angry Thing out of the sky as the Old Farmer scolded it.

"Back, you silly little dragon! I won't have you burning the barn down today!" The Old Farmer had skin like wrinkle-walnuts, and he was unamused by the Angry Thing's presence in his nest. Another two broom slaps swept the defeated Angry Thing away, and the Old Farmer gave me a piercing look.

"Say... you're my daughter's friend, aren't you?" The Old Farmer chuckled to himself. "You clever little thing. Well, go on. She's waiting for you where we buried... oh, why am I bothering? You can't understand me; you're just a crow. Astrenn! Your crow's here to visit!"

I flapped towards the barn, where Astrenn was waiting. The little girl who'd once taken me in, feeding me, and keeping me warm when the nights grew cold. Astrenn had saved my life when she was a hatchling, and I would do anything for Astrenn in return.

Astrenn needed the Shiny. And finally, I had delivered.

Astrenn looked up from the small lump of freshly-turned earth, the small, carved rock that stood where a mother should have been. Her cheeks glistened with sparkling droplets of water, but for once, I only wanted to wipe these shinies away.

"There you are, you silly lump of feathers." Astrenn sniffled and held out her arm; I hopped on and nuzzled her cheek. "What've you got for me today?"

I said, "Caw," and relinquished my treasures. A single gold coin for Astrenn, and a bit of tinsel for me.

Astrenn giggled. "You crazy crow—where'd you get this? Mother would have fed you plump for days. Come on—we can still send her off, if we hurry."

Astrenn pocketed the Shiny and hurried into the market, exchanging the Shiny for some smaller sparkles and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

Then Astrenn and I returned to Astrenn's mother's grave, placing the flowers in the center. After a moment of thought, I delicately balanced my tinsel on top, and Astrenn closed her eyes that shone like stars.

"She would have loved you, you pretty little girl."

"Caw," I said, perhaps agreeing, perhaps simply being there for my friend.

And Astrenn and I knelt there in mourning, until the sun bled red and the greatest shinies of all twinkled in the night sky above.

###

Time flickered, stepped, and jumped, and I was back in my body. Back in realspace. Back in the ruined, darksky village.

Back by the corpse of a girl named Astrenn who loved to feed crows.

"It was them," Lucet whispered by my side. "The Order and the Peaks. They fought here."

"Yeah." The words came out of my mouth. "I get that."

My friends gave me odd looks, but I couldn't hear what they said next over the sudden rush of my heartbeat in my ears. Worried, Lucet stood to put a hand on my shoulder, but as if I was in a dream, I walked forwards and my friends fell away.

"You guys keep looking," I managed to say. "I'll be right back."

"Cienne, where are you—" Lucet started to say, before someone cut her off. Probably Sansen. I loved Meloai, but... it would be Sansen who stopped her.

I stepped into the middle of a blackened, ruined field. Now that I knew what to look for, it was obvious that this was where the Peaks had called down one of their devastating strikes of pure light. The crops here had been burnt to ash, but that was okay. The bodies, the blood, the ruins—they would just make more fertile soil, more desirable targets for the next time war came to this horrible, beautiful place that I called home.

This coming spring harvest we'll do it again

From the first bitter dawn to the pitiful end.

My heart thumped to the mournful tune of the Redlands Anthem, and I clenched my fists and my jaw and my soul and my everything, everything was dense and hot and furious—

So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell

And the bastards that got them, we'll see them in—

I let loose a wordless, bloody, guttural shriek, and a torrent of fury and sorrow and self-hatred screamed out with it, heat that warped the air as much as my tears, frost that numbed my flesh as deep as my soul, and I was falling, shrinking, fading into nothingness as the storm of ice and fire that was my love and loss reached so high it nearly split the sky in two.

When it was over, I was curled up in a patch of melting frost, surrounded by ruined, incinerated earth. My soul was empty. I was empty. I was so, so weak, and if a gust of wind so much as touched me, I would blow away into dust.

From behind me, I heard the frost crunch as someone stepped up to me, waited, then laid down by my side. Reaching out to loop one arm around my chest, holding me tight and close.

I closed my eyes and let Lucet hold me, the anthem of the Redlands echoing in my ears as my soul went quiet and still, falling asleep in a cradle of frost and flame.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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#writing #writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writblr #serial fiction #fiction #series #web serial #oc #soulmage #dark academia #fantasy #high fantasy #magic #worldbuilding

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