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syerra-637 · 6 months ago

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The final decision is yours.

(Yandere!king x fem reader)

A/n ¹: Probably the longest fic I've posted so far and I plan on surpassing myself. Consider this my gift to start 2025 off right ;) Trigger warnings: yandere themes, angst, physical violence, murder, psychological manipulation, abuse of power, confinement, verbal abuse, abusive relationships, humiliation, sexual tension, death themes Summary: Life was like a long and quiet river, until that fateful day. How could you have known that this chain of decisions would lead to such a tragedy? Word count: 5.9k

The hunting season was open, a period you dreaded every year. The peaceful woods surrounding your modest cottage transformed into a noisy playground for arrogant nobles. They paraded on horseback, their laughter echoing through the forest, taking cruel pleasure in hunting and killing poor animals. Fortunately, your refuge was nestled in a secluded corner, far from the beaten path. It was rare for anyone to venture here, and you relied on this isolation to preserve your peace.

That evening, however, a storm was brewing. The rain poured in torrents, hammering the roof of your cottage, while lightning streaked across the dark sky. The wind, cold and violent for the season, swept through the trees, making the branches crack. Sitting at your wooden table, a steaming bowl of soup and a piece of bread in front of you, you let your thoughts wander. The fire crackled in the hearth, spreading a comforting warmth, but a dull anxiety weighed on you.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the mud pulled you from your reverie. You froze, straining to listen. It wasn’t a mere animal. These footsteps were heavy, assured… human. Your heart raced as someone knocked violently on your door.

You remained still, holding your breath. Maybe they would leave eventually, you thought. Maybe they would believe the house was abandoned. But this illusion was quickly shattered when a deep, authoritative voice rose from the other side of the door:

— "We know someone is here. Open the door immediately!"

You shivered. They had probably spotted the smoke rising from the chimney. You hesitated, staring at the door as if it might give way to the force of their voice.

— "Open up, or we’ll break down the door!"

The tone was unmistakable. These men were not here to ask politely. A cold fear gripped you. Who were they? Lost hunters? Or worse? You knew your refuge would not protect you for long against their determination.

Your heart pounded as you slowly approached the door. You unlocked it carefully, but left the chain in place, making sure it opened just a crack. In the doorway, you scrutinized the figures standing in the pouring rain.

There were four of them. The first, a small young boy, seemed to be a squire. He wore simple clothes, drenched by the downpour, and his face showed more nervousness than determination. The next two, clearly nobles, were more imposing. One of them, the one who had spoken earlier with an imperious voice, seemed agitated, his features tight with suppressed anger.

But it was the last man who caught all your attention. He stood slightly apart, yet he dominated the scene with his mere presence. His youth and beauty were striking; his elegant but powerful build inspired a strange combination of respect and fear. His luxurious clothes, adorned with embroidery and shimmering jewels despite the dim light, indicated he was not an ordinary noble. A member of the high nobility. There was no doubt about it. Perhaps even royalty.

You swallowed hard before asking a question in a calm but wary voice:

— What do you want?

You didn’t miss their reaction. The moment your voice broke the silence, their faces showed palpable surprise. They exchanged looks, as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. You guessed why: they had probably assumed a man lived here, isolated from the rest of the world.

The man who had spoken earlier answered, his voice slightly softened but still authoritative:

— Shelter and food for the night.

He took a step forward, clearly trying to make you more visible in the darkness. You could analyze them in detail thanks to the firelight behind you, but to them, you were just a silhouette in the backlight.

You hesitated, but finally declared firmly:

— I am a woman, and there is no man in this house. It would not be proper to let you in.

A silence fell, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. Then, the man who seemed to be the leader of the group exclaimed, clearly perplexed:

— What? You don’t live with any man?

You took a deep breath and lied without flinching:

— Yes, I am married. But my husband is not here at the moment.

The nobleman frowned, and you saw him exchange a quick glance with the royal figure, who had remained silent until now. The latter gave a slight smile, but it wasn’t warm. It was an enigmatic, almost predatory smile, and it chilled you to the bone.

— Then we have nothing to fear, he finally said in a low, velvety voice. We will stay only one night.

You hesitated for a long moment. Their presence was oppressive, and every fiber of your being screamed at you not to let them in. But the wind howled outside, and the storm rumbled so fiercely that even you, warm inside, shivered. If you left them outside, they might break down the door, and you weren’t sure you could resist them.

Finally, with cautious resignation, you closed the door just enough to remove the chain, then opened it reluctantly. The men entered one by one, bringing with them the smell of rain, wet leather, and earth.

The small squire apologized timidly as he dropped a soaked bag near the door. The two nobles remained standing, casting curious glances around the modest room. But it was the king who drew all your attention, despite yourself. He didn’t move much, simply staring at the flames with an almost unsettling intensity.

— You have a charming house, he finally murmured, his low, controlled voice resonating strangely in the confined space.

You didn’t respond, merely nodding as you closed the door behind them. Your instincts screamed at you not to turn your back, but you had to go fetch blankets for your guests.

— If you would follow me, you said in a voice that tried to sound assured. I only have one room for sleeping, but it will suffice.

You pointed to a small adjacent room, usually used for storing wood and provisions, but which could offer them temporary shelter. The squire and the two nobles settled there without much ceremony, removing their soaked coats.

The king, however, remained in the main room. He had moved toward the fireplace and was observing the flames with an almost disturbing intensity.

— Aren’t you joining your men? you asked, trying to mask your discomfort.

He turned his head slightly toward you, a cryptic smile curling his lips.

— No. I prefer the company here.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. It wasn’t so much his words as the way he said them. Slowly, he sat down in the chair you had occupied earlier, his eyes never truly leaving you.

— You are brave, he continued. Living alone, so far from everything. Few women would have the strength for it.

You lowered your gaze, trying not to respond to what you perceived as a provocation.

— I manage, you replied simply, grabbing a clean bowl. Would you like some soup?

— With pleasure.

You hurried to fill a bowl, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. You could feel his eyes on you, like a physical presence. When he took the bowl from your hands, his fingers briefly brushed yours. That contact felt like an electric shock.

— Thank you, he said softly, his smile still present.

The evening continued in a heavy silence. The other men seemed tired and did not leave their room, but the king stayed with you, occasionally asking innocuous questions: how long had you lived here? Why so far from civilization? Had you never been afraid?

Each of your answers seemed to fascinate him more. His dark, piercing eyes rarely left your face. At times, you felt like he was studying you, as if he were trying to uncover all your secrets.

You tried not to give him too much attention, but he had a magnetic aura that made it impossible. The later the night went, the more vulnerable you felt under his gaze, like a prey aware that it was being hunted.

— You are quite charming, he finally murmured, almost to himself. A woman like you shouldn’t be living alone in a place like this.

You didn’t respond, but your silence didn’t seem to bother him. He merely continued to watch you, his smile becoming more enigmatic, almost possessive.

It wasn’t until he finally stood up to join the others that you could breathe again. But even then, you knew this night would be long. You could still feel his gaze on you, even in his absence, like a heavy shadow that would not leave you.

⭑•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•⭑

The night was long and difficult. Sleep didn’t come easily, and every little noise made you jump. The creaking of the wood under the wind, the rustling of the trees in the rain… everything seemed amplified in the oppressive silence of your house. Several times, you woke up with a start, the fear of what these men might do keeping you awake.

Finally, unable to find peace, you got up and sat by the window. The sky was still cloudy, but a few stars pierced through the gaps. You stared at their distant glow, hoping their light would bring you some comfort.

Suddenly, a movement behind you made you shiver.

— You’re not sleeping, my dear?

The royal's low, smooth voice broke the silence. You slowly turned around, finding him standing in the doorway, dressed in a simple doublet that accentuated his imposing build. He was looking at you, a curious smile on his lips.

— I could say the same to you, you replied, weary and tired.

He let out a small laugh, clearly delighted by your retort.

— Touche, he said, stepping closer to look out the window. Oh, look! You can see the constellation of Cassiopeia. You know, in legends, she represents a queen. Beautiful, but proud.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

— Mhm, you replied simply, turning your gaze back to the stars.

In truth, you didn’t know much about constellations, and you had no desire for him to start talking about myths or fairy tales, especially at this hour. And if you were to be honest, you had never been very interested in such discussions, even less with him.

A silence settled, heavy and strange. For you, it was almost an enjoyable moment; you could finally savor a little tranquility, even in his presence. But it seemed that this silence bothered him.

— I hope your husband will be back soon, he suddenly said. It’s not good for a delicate creature like you to be alone here too long. Who knows who… or what you might come across.

You felt a wave of contempt rise within you. The word "husband" had been spoken in a strange way, both venomous and sarcastic, as if the idea disgusted him while not convincing him. He was staring at you with a piercing look, probably trying to detect a flaw in your lie.

Inside, you couldn’t help but mock him.

My poor, if only you knew how long “the delicate creature” I am has been living alone here…

But you showed nothing on your face.

— He’ll probably be back tomorrow, you replied in a neutral tone, hoping to end the conversation.

He looked at you for a moment longer, then a strange smile stretched across his lips. He hummed a tune you didn’t recognize before turning away, heading back to the room where his companions were sleeping.

You stayed still for a moment, your fists clenched, before returning to your room. This time, you made sure to lock the door. Yet, even behind that barrier, you couldn’t escape the oppressive feeling: his gaze, his smile… something about him made you deeply uncomfortable.

You slipped under the covers, praying that this night would finally end. But you knew that this was only the beginning of a much greater unease.

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The next morning, you got up quickly, driven by the hope that by hastening the preparations, you could shorten their stay in your house. You prepared a simple breakfast: rye bread, some dry sausage, and a bowl of porridge. Sitting at the table, you savored the relative silence, a rare moment of tranquility since their arrival.

This moment was interrupted by the squire who entered discreetly. Unlike the others, he seemed less intrusive. He gave you a small, hesitant smile, as if waiting for your permission to sit. You gestured to a chair, and he sat down.

— I’ll wash your clothes after breakfast, you said calmly. You’ll probably be able to leave before lunchtime this way.

The squire looked at you with a mix of gratitude and awkwardness.

— Thank you, he replied sincerely. And I’m sorry that we imposed ourselves like this on you. Understand, your house is the only one in the area. But…

He hesitated, as if weighing his words.

— But the time of departure is not up to me, he added. It depends on the king’s will.

You stopped dead, staring at him in disbelief. The king? That insufferable, arrogant, and intrusive man, was he the king? Until now, you had thought he was just a high-ranking noble, but the king? A shiver ran through you, a mix of astonishment and apprehension.

As if to confirm your fears, the king entered at that moment, followed by his two companions. They sat at the table with an assurance that made it seem like they were at home. The king, with almost calculated precision, sat right next to you. He gave you a warm, almost charming smile, wishing you a good day in a soft, affable voice.

You furrowed your brow, confused by his behavior. Quickly clearing your dishes, you turned to him to regain some semblance of control.

— As I told your squire, I will wash your clothes after breakfast. That way, you’ll probably be able to leave before lunchtime.

The king stared at you for a moment, his gaze taking on an unreadable quality. There was something unsettling in his eyes: an intensity that seemed to probe your soul, as if he were trying to detect your every thought. Then, an almost imperceptible smile flickered on his lips.

— How kind of you, my dear, he said softly. However…

He paused, his tone turning more serious, almost solemn.

— It turns out that I wish to meet your husband. We will therefore wait for his return.

His gaze remained fixed on you, a glimmer of amusement mixed with a certain threat. He knew. He knew that you had lied, and he seemed to take a malicious pleasure in playing with you.

The atmosphere in the room immediately changed. The two nobles exchanged a glance, one of them sporting a smirk, clearly entertained by the situation. The other, more serious, seemed puzzled by the king’s insistence. As for the squire, he lowered his eyes, uncomfortable, nervously fiddling with the edge of his tunic.

You felt trapped. Your heart was racing, but you forced yourself to keep a neutral expression.

— My husband probably won’t return until late this evening, you said in a tone you hoped sounded firm.

The king didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared at you, his smile widening slightly.

— Then we have all the time in the world, he murmured finally, his voice soft, but heavy with innuendo.

This simple exchange left an overwhelming weight in the air. You now knew that his departure no longer depended on just washing clothes. And more than ever, you felt that this man was dangerous.

⭑•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•⭑

The day unfolded slowly, each moment stretching out like an eternity. The stares of the four men weighed heavily on you, their invasive presence seeping into every corner of your home. Even as you tried to focus on your daily tasks, every movement felt monitored, every breath scrutinized.

The squire was the most discreet, occasionally casting you a hesitant glance, as if unsure of his place but too polite to leave. The two nobles, however, seemed to revel in the situation. One of them kept glaring at you with a judgmental gaze, while the other, calmer but no less observant, appeared lost in thought, missing nothing of what transpired around him.

As for the king… He kept watching you, like a predator stalking its prey. You felt his eyes on you constantly—heavy, curious, scrutinizing. Every task you undertook seemed to serve as an opportunity for him to evaluate you. He would sometimes approach, ensuring you weren’t too busy, offering remarks that seemed casual but were, in truth, precise observations of your every move.

When you tended to the fire, he leaned in close and murmured softly: — You’re so attentive to everything; it’s admirable. You never miss a spark. The comment sent a shiver down your spine, though you tried not to let it show. You knew he was testing you, probing your resolve.

After cleaning and tidying up, you headed to the garden to tend to a few plants, hoping for a moment of respite. But even there, you weren’t alone. The king positioned himself by a window, watching you through the curtains. One of the nobles also kept his gaze fixed on you, as if every gesture needed to be observed, measured, and noted.

Finally, lunchtime arrived, though the thought of spending more time with them was far from appealing. You forced a smile, serving the food with a courtesy that grew more taxing by the moment. The king, ever charming, addressed you with kind words, but his eyes betrayed his relentless search for something more—a crack in your composure, a moment of vulnerability.

By the afternoon, you realized you couldn’t endure the tension any longer. Taking a deep breath, your heart pounding, you calmly announced: — I’m going into town. It’s been a while, and I think it would do me good.

Silence fell over the room, and all eyes turned to you. The king was the first to react, a faintly amused smile playing on his lips. — Into town? he said softly, with layers of meaning. Why not wait until your husband returns? It would be safer, wouldn’t it?

You didn’t need to think twice to recognize the trap. He was trying to cage you again, to make you feel his control over every aspect of your life. But you weren’t about to give in. — There’s nothing dangerous in town, you replied, striving for confidence. And I’ll return well before nightfall.

The nobles exchanged glances. One seemed on the verge of protesting but held back, as if a decision had been made beyond his control. The older one shrugged, appearing indifferent.

The king said nothing at first, his gaze piercing, sending a strange heat through your chest, followed by a chilling unease. Then, slowly rising from his chair, he moved toward you with measured steps, every motion deliberate, like a ruler fully aware of his authority. — Very well, he said calmly. Go ahead, but… don’t stray too far. I’d hate for anything to happen to you on the way. You know, it’s never entirely safe to be alone, especially in such an isolated place.

He turned away without another word, but his seemingly gentle tone carried an unmistakable threat. He didn’t need to say more for you to understand: he would be watching. No matter where you went, his shadow loomed over you like an invisible chain.

The other three men regarded you with varying expressions—indifference, amusement—but the king’s silent vigilance was ever-present. You had no choice but to leave, though deep down, you knew that any semblance of freedom you might feel was nothing more than a fragile illusion.

When you prepared to step out the door, the king rose again, his cold, determined smile returning. — I’ll accompany you, he said quietly but firmly. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d prefer to keep you under my watch.

He followed you without another word, and you had no choice but to accept it. The town, usually quiet, felt livelier today. People hurried to finish their errands before nightfall, and the clatter of hooves echoed on the cobblestones.

You headed first to the butcher, hoping the quick errand would go unnoticed. The king kept his distance, observing everything—the streets, the people, and most of all, you—with eyes as sharp as blades. His presence made you nervous, forcing you to move with heightened awareness of his scrutiny. — Some meat for tonight, please, you said in a calm voice, though your hands trembled slightly.

The butcher served you without question, though his gaze lingered on the king, then back to you. The tension was palpable, and no one could ignore it.

After paying, you continued on your way, maintaining a composed facade. The king remained silent, but his unrelenting eyes bore into you, as if waiting for the slightest misstep.

You stopped next at the tailor’s, hoping the visit might offer a brief reprieve from the king’s oppressive attention. The tailor, a middle-aged man, greeted you warmly. — Just a small repair for the skirt, if you don’t mind, you said, handing it over. Nothing too complicated.

The king leaned against the wall, watching every movement. You knew he disliked being here, but his desire to control you outweighed his discomfort. The tailor’s scissors seemed louder than usual, each snip amplifying the oppressive silence.

When the tailor handed back your mended skirt, you seized the moment. Taking a deep breath, you turned to the king and said calmly: — I’m going to visit a friend now. She works at a brothel nearby, and I need to deliver something to her.

The king studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. He hesitated, as though weighing his options. Then, with a faint smile, he replied: — Very well, I’ll wait here. But don’t take too long, all right? I wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a compromising situation.

Leaving him behind in the bustling street, you headed toward a quieter, shadowed part of town, where the alleys narrowed and the air grew heavier. Here, you hoped to find Jean—the one person who might help you escape the king’s grip, if only for a night.

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Jean, a man with a rough demeanor, was well-known in these parts as a pimp but also as someone who didn’t hesitate to use violence to get what he wanted. You found him repulsive, but he was your only option.

Arriving at a discreet door, you knocked twice and waited. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and there stood Jean, a cynical smile on his lips.

“Well, well, well, look who it is,” he said, looking you up and down. “You must want something, don’t you?”

You took a deep breath and held out five silver coins, which he snatched with interest.

“I have a deal for you, Jean. I want you to pretend to be my husband tonight. The king, that… insufferable man, is here with his nobles, and I can’t take it anymore. I need to escape, even if it’s just for one evening. In exchange for five silver coins, you’ll be my husband and shield me from his intrusive gaze.”

Jean laughed, a harsh and joyless sound.

“Five silver coins? For one evening of a fake marriage? You care more about freedom than money, I see. But you know what? I’ll do it. For tonight, you’ll be Jean’s wife, and the king won’t be able to do a thing about it. But don’t expect it to come cheap.”

He gave you a piercing look, one that felt far too calculated. You knew you had to tread carefully, but for now, this was your only option.

“Fine,” you replied, your gaze hardening. “But after tonight, you stay away from me, Jean. This is a deal, not a commitment.”

He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to him.

“Don’t worry about that,” he said with a mocking grin.

⭑•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•⭑

Jean arrived at the cottage in the late afternoon, and you couldn’t help but feel a shiver of apprehension. Every step he took toward your door seemed heavy with consequence. When he entered, a mix of emotions overwhelmed you: a certain relief, of course, but also a growing unease. This dinner was no longer just a meal; it was a trial that could disrupt far more than your evening.

You greeted him with a reserved smile, trying to keep your composure. He settled at the table, his gaze scanning every corner of the cottage as if uncovering its secrets. The atmosphere was tense, and you sensed that nothing about what was to come would be trivial.

The others arrived shortly after—three nobles, followed by the king. They took their seats, but the air remained heavy. The king sat beside you, and you immediately felt his scrutinizing gaze on you, as though he were evaluating your every move. Then Jean turned toward him, his piercing stare as sharp as a blade.

The initial exchanges were polite, but the underlying tension was palpable. Jean, for his part, seemed intent on testing the king, pushing him to his limits, his remarks laden with innuendo.

“You have such a serene air about you, Your Majesty,” Jean began in an almost friendly tone, though his eyes gleamed with something sharper. “There’s a strange calm that emanates from you. A calm… that perhaps hides a certain vulnerability.”

The king shot you a quick glance before responding, his tone icy: “And why would you think that?”

Jean shrugged, as though he didn’t care about the answer. “Well, after spending time around powerful men, you learn to see the cracks in their facades. One might believe your power is unshakable, but I’m certain there are flaws. And when you find them, that’s when the real game begins.”

The king straightened slightly, his gaze hardening, though he maintained his composure. “You seem to underestimate what it means to be a king, Jean. You don’t understand what it entails—the sacrifices, the responsibilities. You can’t simply talk about power as if you know what it is.”

Jean smirked, a nearly provocative expression. “Oh, but I understand far more than you think. You speak of sacrifices, responsibilities, but at its core, everything is ruled by money. You, your nobles, your lands—it’s all an illusion. You think you’re at the top, but you’re just puppets in a much larger game.”

The nobles around the table exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to intervene. The tension escalated, and you could feel the air growing heavier. Jean wasn’t there to flatter; he was there to provoke, to push the king to his breaking point.

“You wear a fine crown, but it’s just an ornament. When you take it off, you’re like everyone else, aren’t you? Just a man among men, no matter how much you like to think otherwise.”

The king, visibly irritated, clenched his fists under the table. “You’re a strange man, Jean,” he murmured in a threatening tone. “You know nothing of what it means to be at the top. All you understand is money. You’re a man of the gutter.”

Jean burst into laughter, though there was an ominous edge to it. He stood abruptly, stepping closer to the king, his eyes blazing with restrained fury. “Maybe I am a man of the gutter, but tonight, you’re going to see what it feels like to lose control.”

Without warning, Jean drew his sword, the motion swift as lightning. The king, with a fluid movement, unsheathed his own and managed to parry the first strike. The violent clash of metal echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine. The other guests remained frozen, shocked by the sudden attack.

Jean, consumed by rage, launched into a series of brutal strikes, but the king was faster. Each of Jean’s blows was met with precise counters. The king appeared calm, but you could feel the intensity of the duel, every movement of his arms calculated and deliberate.

Finally, with a sudden burst of motion, the king disarmed Jean. Delivering a decisive strike, he sent Jean crashing to the ground. The ensuing silence was heavy, almost suffocating. Jean, groaning in pain, lay motionless.

The king, breathless but composed, stood tall and regarded Jean’s body with an icy gaze. Slowly, he turned to the other nobles. “Well. That’s settled.”

The nobles, paralyzed, said nothing. But you remained seated, frozen in place. A mix of relief and dread coursed through you. The king had killed a man during dinner, but the situation was far from resolved. On the contrary, you knew everything was about to change.

The guests eventually left, the king casting a final glance at Jean’s lifeless body before turning to you with a chilling smile. Then, he walked out the door.

You stayed behind, your eyes fixed on Jean’s motionless form, a storm of emotions swirling within you. The smell of blood and death filled the room, heavy and unbearable. The walls seemed to close in around you, and before you could fully grasp the gravity of the situation, everything went black. Darkness engulfed you as you fainted.

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When you opened your eyes again, daylight filtered through the window. You sat up abruptly, dizziness overwhelming you. The nauseating smell of Jean's corpse immediately reached your nose, making you gag. The weight of what had just happened crushed you, and you felt overwhelmed by panic. What now? How could you erase what had just occurred? Jean's body was there, in the room, and you couldn't simply leave it there.

Instinctively, you got up and hurried outside, running to the back of the small house where no one would disturb you. You began digging a hole in the garden, more or less deep, but every movement felt heavy, almost mechanical. Your mind was foggy, your hands trembling. Jean's body, too heavy to handle alone, seemed almost unreal. Dried blood stained your hands and clothes as you dragged the body out of the house, each movement sending a shiver of disgust through you. The body fell into the hole you had dug without much thought. The earth slowly covered him, but your mind kept spiraling.

Was what you just did really smart? People would surely notice Jean’s disappearance. And if someone came, if someone found his body in your garden... It would be you they accused. You they judged. A cold shiver ran through you. What now? You had to flee. Find a solution before it was too late.

Panicked, you ran inside the house, hastily gathering anything you thought might be necessary. Some silver coins, a few clothes, and other small items you could carry. Each action felt more rushed than the last. But as you were gathering everything, you heard a noise. A sharp knock at the door.

You froze. It wasn’t the wind. It was another knock, more insistent this time. You approached the door cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest. Then a commanding voice rose from the other side, cutting through your thoughts.

— Open the door immediately! You are accused of high treason against the crown. We are here to escort you to your trial.

Your blood ran cold. The voice was firm, authoritative, leaving no room for negotiation. The royal guards were there, and everything was about to fall apart. You stood still, your mind racing. You had no plan, nothing. You had to face what was coming, but how? What to say? What to do?

The sound of footsteps approached, and the door began to tremble under repeated blows. Everything was collapsing around you.

The door burst open suddenly, and everything seemed to blur around you. The daylight was too bright, almost unbearable, and your eyes instinctively squinted. Before you could react, you were seized by the arm with such force that you had no time to defend yourself. The sensation was terrifying, as if an invisible rope tied you to a horse, dragging you behind it mercilessly. The pain, the anguish, everything mixed within you in a chaotic whirlwind.

Your mind wavered between reality and memory, a flood of blurry, confused recollections. The cell, the dampness of the cold walls, the heavy silence of the prison… Then the judge, the man who condemned you, and his cutting voice announcing your sentence: "Death by hanging." The sound of his words still echoed in your ears, and you felt lost, crushed by inevitability.

Now, you were there again, in that cell. A heavy silence weighed on you. The last day, the day of the condemned. You had prepared yourself for this moment, for this inevitable end. But nothing could prepare you for what happened next.

The door to your cell opened once again. You expected to see a guard, another court official, but that wasn’t the case. A malicious smile stretched across your face as you recognized the one who had entered. The king himself. He wasn’t there to carry out a sentence, no. He stepped toward you with that manic smile, the smile he always wore when he felt in control, when he knew everything was under his power. That smile, at that moment, froze your blood.

— So, here you are at last. It’s amusing to see how the wheel of fate turns, isn’t it? he murmured, his voice smooth, almost disdainful.

He stood there before you, and the air he exuded was suffocating. He seemed to take cruel pleasure in observing your distress. He advanced slowly, his gaze fixed on you, as if savoring every moment of this encounter, every second he knew you couldn’t escape.

You were there, facing him, in that cell. There was no escape. No false hope. Just him, the king, delighting in your predicament, and that predatory smile he wouldn’t stop wearing.

The king approached closer, reducing the distance between you to a mere breath. His eyes glimmered with a strange light, a mix of cruelty and desire. Then, with a chilling smile, he murmured:

— In my great mercy, I offer you a way out, a chance to live. But on one condition: you must agree to stay with me for eternity.

Your breath caught. The words echoed in the cell like a distorted, unreal sound. Your heart raced, and yet a strange sense of irony crossed your mind. You dared to speak, your voice trembling despite yourself:

— Is… is this a marriage proposal?

The king burst into clear laughter, almost joyful, but every note of that laughter was filled with condescension. He shook his head slightly, as if amused by your supposed naivety.

— No, of course not! My dear, our social classes are far too distant for such absurdity, he said, letting the words drip with disdain.

He took another step, leaning slightly toward you, his tone lower, more intense.

— What I’m offering you is far more than a simple marriage. I’m offering you life, an existence by my side, as the royal mistress. A title few could claim, a privileged place in my world.

He paused, his eyes scrutinizing every detail of your face, watching for your reaction.

— And together, we will live happily until the end of time. Until the stars themselves extinguish, and the universe is nothing but a memory.

His smile widened, triumphant, as if he already knew what your answer would be. But deep inside, a storm raged. The final decision is yours.

⭑•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•⭑

A/n ²: Hope you enjoyed :3. If this is the case, please let me know. Besides, I have lots of ideas for explanations and follow-ups (like: -Why did Jean act like this?, (assuming Darling chooses to live)What will life be like for Darling now that she is a royal mistress?, What if the king had a wife?)

#yandere men #yandere #yandere x female reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere king #yandere king x reader #yandere king x female reader #yandere king x poor reader #rich yandere #angst #syerra-637 #yandere medieval #yandere fairytale #yandere fairytale x reader #yandere medieval x reader

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enchanteleclerc · 2 years ago

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strawberries and cream 🂱 cs55

genre: 18+, literally pwp, fem!reader who’s the sister of carlos’ best friend?? LMAO

word count: 2.5k

You seem to enjoy the company of your brother’s best friend. Especially right now, over some breakfast of pancakes, thinking you may never look at strawberries and cream the same.

a/n … idk how my last post did pretty well but thank u all for the support !! still learning how to write smut (and write in general bc i never write in uni 💀) this was heavily inspired by that one serena and nate scene i hope u guys know which one i’m talking ab :))

warnings … penetrative sex, semi public sex, dirty talk (degradation and praise), unprotected sex, food, rough ish sex?

You don’t remember when it started. The butterflies, the stolen glances across a room. Ever since you could remember, Carlos was always around. But he wasn’t here for you; you had to remind yourself. Your brother’s best friend. And yet, neither of you could deny the tension between you both. The way your fingers brushed when you handed him your plate, offering to wash it for you after dinner, caused you to subconsciously hold your breath. ”Need some help?” Sauntering into the kitchen where Carlos was washing the dishes. You don’t miss how his lips turned into a smile upon seeing you. Picking up the dishes he just washed, you began drying them beside him, taking quick looks at him from the side of your eye but making sure he doesn’t see. Flipping a plate over, you accidentally splash him with water. Your hands immediately went to your mouth to apologise, but you couldn’t help the giggles pouring from you. “Yeah? You think that’s funny?” He wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you still while turning the tap towards you, soaking the white oversized shirt you wore. Pleading for mercy, to which he loosened his grip, you retaliated by turning the tap onto him. Stepping through the puddle of water you both caused, he turned off the tap. ”Truce?” He sticks out his pinky for you to shake, which you take happily. Pinkies interlocked, you look up at him, still giggling, but the giggles dissipate when you look into his big brown eyes. His eyes held yours for a moment before travelling down your body to the white shirt that had gone translucent and stuck to your body, leaving almost nothing to imagination apart from your bra and panties. Carlos’ clothes were no better. His grey shirt had darkened and stuck to his torso, revealing the lines and curves of his toned stomach. ”What the fuck?” Your brother’s voice echoed between Carlos and you as if a strike of lightning. You both jumped away from each other but still connected through your pinkies. As if there was an invisible piece of string connecting you both. Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over your chest to hide yourself, you announce that you were heading up for bed, unwilling to let go of Carlos’ hand. You wonder how you could possibly fall asleep knowing that Carlos would be in the room beside yours. The answer to that question was reluctantly. However, you eventually fell asleep to Carlos’ light snores through the thin walls of the house. And the moment the snoring ceased, so did the little sleep you received. Early in the morning, you heard a door open. Well aware of your family’s ability to sleep into the late hours of the morning, you knew whose door that was. You were suddenly wide awake and wanting to run out your door to see him. Needing to regain some dignity after letting him see you basically half-naked yesterday, you decided against leaving your room immediately. After what you believed was enough time, you found yourself walking downstairs into the kitchen, where a figure was rummaging through the fridge. Despite only being able to see his back, you knew who it was, of course. That was a back you caught your eyes lingering on many times. The way his muscles flexed through the thin shirt had you in a trance. “You’re up early.” He returned the milk carton to the fridge before turning around to see you. You simply hummed back because you couldn’t form coherent thoughts when Carlos looked like this. Sleepy eyes looking back at you from the opposite end of the island, slightly obstructed by his hair that was messy and looked somewhat damp from a shower, you assumed. His voice, raspy from the morning, had your knees buckling. You sit on the island's counter to avoid the embarrassment of passing out simply because he spoke. ”Wow. He cooks and cleans. Is there anything you can’t do, Mr Sainz?” Your eyes flitted from the stack of freshly cooked pancakes to Carlos. His eyes unmistakably darkened at your use of “Mr Sainz”, but his head still shook with a low chuckle, placing his hand on your bare thigh. Picking a strawberry out of the bowl of toppings, you lean towards Carlos. He opens his mouth instinctively to accept the sweet fruit out of your hand, keeping his eyes focused on you and the way you bit your lip when the juice of the strawberry leaked from his lips. His eye contact broke only when your hand reached up to wipe the juice dripping down his chin with your thumb, only to place the thumb in your own mouth to suck off the juice. His eyes connect with yours again, and your close proximity is not lost on either of you. Your hand rests on his flushed cheek, the light stubble scratching your hand as his chest rises and falls. Carlos hums before wrapping his hands around your thighs to pull you towards the edge of the counter and moving in between your legs. Your faces were so close you could feel his warm breath from his slightly parted lips. He looked so pretty, like a prince straight out of Disney that you would have obsessed over when you were younger. You could’ve sworn you saw Carlos’ resolve crumble around you as his hands moved from your thighs to your head to catch your lips in a suffocating kiss. Years of sexual tension between you and Carlos finally being resolved had your head spinning in a whirlwind of lips, wandering hands and the taste of strawberries. The sudden action caused a squeal to leave your lips as your body connected with his, warm and hard. The feeling of his body in between your legs with your oversized shirt riding up and his clothed cock hardening for you from every minuscule movement you made, simply to find more friction and provoke him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one arm reaching for his back, feeling the tensing muscles through his thin shirt, the other tugging slightly at the hair on the back of his neck, eliciting a silent moan from his mouth. His lips move from yours to your neck, letting your head fall back, and your legs wrap around his torso. Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, tugging slightly before he tugs it over his head, revealing his perfectly toned body, lightly speckled with hair. His lips are on yours again before his hands rest on your hips, inviting you to move them against him. You gasped at the feeling of him right where you needed him, and he used your gasp to delve deeper into your mouth. His fingers grip your hips and pull your shirt up for a better view. The feeling of the cold air and his hands on your overheating body stimulate you beyond belief. You pulled away from the kiss to breathe and look down at the way you slot in perfectly with him. Carlos tilts your head to look at him and lets his thumb rub your swollen and bitten lips. Your lips attach to the skin of his chest, placing light kisses moving down his stomach. “Fuck. Need to feel your lips around me.” he groaned deeply before you pushed yourself off the counter. You find yourself on your knees for him pulling down his grey sweatpants and boxers to reveal his cock spring up. It was intimidating how big he was. If you weren’t so needy, you would’ve made a cliche comment about his size, but there was no need; Carlos already knew. He could tell by your face and subsequently chuckled. Looking up at him through half-lidded eyes while you stroke it, you observe the way his head falls back for a moment from the pleasure before landing back on you, focusing intently on what you’re doing as if he would rather die than miss this. His eyes bore into your own, but not with the chocolate brown colour you know so well. A darker tint of brown has invaded, causing your thighs to clench together. You place the head of his cock in your mouth. The warm feel of it causes an involuntary moan in you that is reciprocated by Carlos. His hand wrapped around your hair, guiding you along his cock and allowing you to take it in full. Caressing it with your tongue, Carlos’ grip on your hair tightened as the muscles in his legs clenched. Carlos has spent so long seeing you flaunt in short skirts and cropped tops around your house. Spent so long watching your long legs as you walked or when you crossed your legs as you sat. Carlos remembers the day he started feeling like this towards you. It was a hot summer day, and he volunteered to drive you and your brother to get ice cream. Seeing the way you lapped up the ice cream as it dripped down your hand and the moan you let out when the cold liquid touched your tongue haunted Carlos’ dreams for weeks. Dreams that resulted in him having to take a long, cold shower. On the drive home from the ice cream parlour, Carlos was silent and painfully hard in his pants as he avoided looking at you in the rearview mirror unless they wanted to completely drive off the road. Carlos couldn’t believe this wasn’t one of his many dreams. You were real and kneeling before him, letting him fuck your pretty little throat. Your cheeks hollowed and wrapped around him tightly before pulling it out and letting your tongue swirl around the tip, catching all the pre cum. Carlos’ small groans start speeding up, as does your mouth on his cock, but he pulls you away using your hair. ”Need to be inside you.” His hands find their way around your thighs again to lift you up and place you back onto the edge of the counter, ripping your panties off and discarding them somewhere in the kitchen. Dipping his finger in the bowl of whipped cream left for forgotten pancakes, he draws a line on the inside of your thigh, stopping before the apex and letting you suck the whipped cream off his finger. Your back connected with the cool surface of the kitchen island, unable to take this amount of pleasure as Carlos dropped his head between your thighs and began lapping up the whipped cream. The frustrated groan you released when Carlos’ tongue stopped before he reached your heat was disrupted when you felt him drag the tip of his cock up and down your needy folds with ease from how slick you were. Your hips rutted towards his, needing him inside you or at least some friction. Finally, he began pushing, feeding his cock into you. Your eyes clenched closed at the overwhelming pressure you felt. No other boy had stretched you out like this, but none of them were Carlos Sainz. The shared moan that left both your mouths once he bottomed out inside you was intoxicating. You shiver momentarily at the loss when he pulls out of you, but all was forgotten as he slams back into you again He was everywhere— around you, inside you. So overwhelmingly good you understood why you waited so long for this. ”Faster, please” Carlos’ grip on your hips tightened, hearing you begging for him, happily speeding up his pace, hearing your little whimpers from every movement. His hand reaches up to grab your tits, kneading and flicking your nipple to perfection. Carlos had to restrain himself from cumming when he saw how sensitive your nipples were and how you responded to him. ”Fuck you’re perfect. This pretty cunt— so wet. all this for me?” His hand left your tits to attack your clit, rubbing in small circles that had you throwing your head back in pleasure. “Answer me.” He ceased his movements on your clit and began thrusting agonisingly slow. You tried moving your hips to find some friction, but his hands pressed your hips into the counter to stop you from moving. ”Fuck Carlos. It’s all for you. It’s always been you.” Carlos sped up once more. Faster than before. Faster than you thought was humanly possible. The sound of an alarm clock upstairs caught you off guard, the thought of someone— let alone your brother finding you like this. Fucking his best friend. And yet, the tightening feeling in your core didn’t disappear but got stronger. ”Please, can I cum?” He slows down, staving off your orgasm. Unable to move your own hips, Carlos set the pace, and apparently, Carlos did not care that someone could walk downstairs at any moment. He wanted to relish in this moment. The feeling of you beneath him and begging for release. He wanted this image to be ingrained into his memory for the rest of his life. “Cum for me, cariño.” Your legs shaking and releasing a moan that was much too loud for comfort, your orgasm hit you at full force. His hand slammed over your mouth to prevent anyone from hearing, although Carlos would love for the whole neighbourhood to hear you scream his name. His thrusts didn’t cease through your orgasm. Instead, they sped up. Twitching inside of you, he asks where you want it. ”Inside me, please. Fill me up.” Mumbling behind Carlos’ hand that was still firmly over your mouth and was now covered in your spit. Without warning, you felt it. Like a warm flood within you, pushed around by Carlos’ slow thrusts. His cum trickled down your thigh when he pulled out, and you both stood there in silence, listening to each other’s heavy breathing. Footsteps walking down the stairs sprung you both into action, however. Wide eyed for a moment before frantically adjusting your shirt back on and Carlos pulling up his sweatpants with no time for his shirt. ”Morning.” Your brother rubbed his eyes as you and Carlos stood behind the island. No panties on you. No shirt on Carlos. Both were discarded somewhere in the kitchen and soon to be found by your brother. “What are you guys doing? Where’s your shirt, mate?” Your brother’s eyes went between Carlos and you as you pretended to just notice that Carlos had no shirt on. ”Oh, pancakes. You want some?” Your brother offering you as if he was the one that made it. You shook your head before seeing the way your brother loaded his pancakes up with strawberries and whipped cream. You had to bite your lip to hold in a laugh as Carlos’ cheeks flushed. Walking behind your brother, you find your panties and Carlos’ shirt, sending him a wink before walking back upstairs with the clothing items in hand. Leaving Carlos to deal with your brother and the pancakes that were now cold.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

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comicaurora · 2 years ago

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Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

#asks #aurora #art stuff

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greycappedjester · 4 months ago

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New chapter will be up tomorrow. I'm sorry it'll be a day late; trust me, I really, really tried to finish it tonight. But, being entirely honest, I drove around 14 hours in two days and I'm exhausted. Tried to push through anyway but I can already tell I'm not doing my best writing/editing like this and I don't want to post a chapter I feel isn't good enough. I have about 1 and a half scenes left to write plus editing.

As an apology and thanks for waiting, here's the first scene. (like I said my editing skills are wildly missing tonight so it's the unedited version)

----

The rain from the weekend slowly built up over the coming days, finally boiling into a heavy storm.

The wind howled through the forest and shook the window panes. Clouds covered the sky so dark that even the moon couldn’t break through. The Hogwarts students stayed safe and tucked in their beds, thankful for the strong protection charms woven into the castle’s very core.

Truly, only fools would be outside on a night like this.

“YOU’RE BOTH INSANE!” Oikawa shouted over the thunder, lightning striking around them at the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Matsu cackled. “What? Can’t hear you?”

“I said that you’re--” The loud boom of thunder interrupted him again and Oikawa settled for a deep, deep glare.

“So,” Makki clapped his hands together, “everyone having fun?”

All ten of the others--not counting Makki and Matsu, for obvious reasons--absolutely did not look like they were having fun. They looked like they were severely regretting every moment that led to this.

Then again, that wasn’t exactly a new feeling when it came to animagus training.

Makki grinned. “Great! You all brought your leaves, right?”

“Do we really have to be out in this,” Tsukishima demanded.

“Of course, we told you about the process, right,” Matsu said, ticking off his fingers while looking infuriatingly calm for someone in serious danger of electrocution.

“You didn’t tell us we were getting struck by lightning,” Tsukishima snapped back.

“Well, truthfully we kinda had to improvise a bit,” Makki scratched at his nose sheepishly. “Didn’t expect the storm to last this long.”

Yachi frowned. “How does that affect the animagus potion?”

“Technically, the mandrake leaf has to be kept under your tongue for full moon to full moon,” Makki said. “Then, you stick it in a crystal phial under a full moon. Problem is if it’s cloudy, you gotta start the process all over again.”

Bokuto whimpered. “You mean we gotta start over again? But the leaf was so itchy the first time! And it tastes terrible!”

“Yeah and it’s pretty expensive to get since the second years already finished their assignment,” Matsu put in.

“So, we’re adapting,” Makki announced.

Lightning boomed ominously.

“Is that…safe,” Yamaguchi asked.

“Sure, the book even mentions it as an alternative method. Don’t worry about it at all,” Makki assured. Strangely, this had the opposite effect. “Just a bit more tricky since we have to use lightning to substitute for moonlight so we’ve gotta give it more time to settle. Should be ready by the time we’re back from break!”

Hinata poked at Kageyama. “Does that make sense?”

Kageyama shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. Storms can serve as a substitute for moonlight since they’re technically both atmospheric based. Moon is further from Earth’s core, though, means lightning-based potions are more volatile. Need longer brewing time to settle.”

Suga smiled, nodding at Kageyama.

“There, see, we even got the potion nerds’ approval,” Makki said. “Everything will work fine!”

“And we had to do this on top of a tower,” Iwaizumi asked skeptically.

Matsu snorted. “Nope, that’s just for fun.��

The group looked like they were contemplating murdering both of them.

Then again, that also wasn’t exactly a new feeling when it came to animagus training.

“Relax,” Makki said, “just keep an eye on each other and we won’t get struck by lightning. Keep in mind: when your hair stands on ends, that’s probably a bad sign.”

Kuroo and Bokuto simultaneously looked at each other, then up at the other’s hair, before blanching.

Luckily, Matsu quickly avoided any further complaints by pulling out the rest of the ingredients, including a potion’s case fo ten small vials each filled with clear liquid.

“You so owe us for this, by the way, do you know how hard it was to find a ten drops of dew untouched by humans or sunlight for at least a week,” Makki asked, passing them around.

“Um, not very hard?” Suga asked. “We live by a dark forest where students are literally forbidden from entering…and it’s been storming all week.”

Makki tilted his head. “Okay, point, but it’s the principal of the matter.”

“Yeah, yeah, you told us before. We each owe you at least two unnamed favors when it comes to pranks,” Oikawa said.

“We should have made it three,” Matsu bemoaned. “All of you agreed way too easy.”

“Definitely,” Makki turned to address the group. “Okay, everyone add their leaf to the vial along with one strand of their hair. Just one now. You do not want to be one of those poor suckers that make a too hairy animagus potion. Pictures will give you nightmares.”

And, with that reminder of the risks, everyone got serious as they went about following Matsu and Makki’s instructions to the letter.

After the hair, came the chrysalis of a Death’s-head hawk moth. Seven trunks with a silver spoon and Matsu instructed them all to stand their vials up on a metal vial ray brought specifically for the occasion.

“What’s next,” Yamaguchi asked.

“Great question,” Makki said. “Who here is really great at making some big protection shields?”

Hinata raised his hand excitedly. “Ooh! I am!”

“Cool!” Matsu said. “Might want to throw some up right about….now!”

He slapped down a rune covered parchment, which quickly engraved itself onto the tray.

Kuroo and Oikawa recognized the symbols a second later. “WAIT--”

Bolts of lightning struck in the center of the tray, drawn there like a magnet. Shocks trailed off bouncing heavily off the bright blue of Hinata’s shield as the witnessed watched wide-eyed from inside.

A moment later and it was over, the tray left smoking while sparks run through the now bubbling liquid.

As one, the group all turned to Matsu and Makki.

“Okay,” Makki cackled. “We lied. There was one other reason we wanted to use the tower! Most effective lightning rod around!”

#hq at hogwarts

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saveahorserideaneddie · 1 year ago

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Do you think buddie was meant to go canon in S4, how do you think they would have done it?

I fully believe that buddie was intended to go canon in early s5 after eddie was shot. there was so much surrounding buck’s reaction to eddie being shot, eddie only focusing on making sure buck wasn’t also hurt, buck breaking down in front of chris, the discussion of the will…. they set up those building blocks to showcase that there was something deeper there with buck and eddie and then……. season 5 happened bc KR took over (FOX also had to do with the decision as well but…) but i think Tim was trying to intentionally write them into a corner but was moved to LS before he could ever get there himself.

I think s5 would have started out with eddie having the same realizations about not wanting to be with ana, and that it would lead to him reexamining his feelings for buck when buck would have been the one to comfort him through it. I think this version of s5 taylor would have noticed buck’s dedication to eddie and had a heary to heart with him about how he needs to be true to himself, and we would have gotten buck accepting his feelings (i also hc that in this timeline, buck knew he was bi already he just never felt the need to bring it up) and he and taylor would part ways as friends (taylor wouldn’t fuck everything up in this universe either) and buck would want ti confront his feelings, but before he got the chance to, eddie would leave the 118. buck would view this as eddie leaving him behind and not face the music. they would follow a similar path of canon s5 leading up to the big PTSD breakdown in 5x13 where buck would go to eddie’s when chris called. we would see buck immediately fall into place to take care of eddie (just like in canon) and it would lead to plenty of moments where they are just on the edge of something but never cross the line. they continue to dance around each other; buck saying he wants to give eddie some time to breath post-breakdown, eddie saying he doesn’t want buck to rush into a relationship after taylor (obviously not knowing the bereakup was bc of his feelings for eddie) and then finally in 5x18 while eddie and may are having their simultaneous arcs of what comes next, they would have a heart to heart where may would tell eddie he needs to stop waiting around and go after what makes him happy— this would lead to an emotional confession scene at hen and karen’s vow renewal where eddie would tell buck exactly how he feels, and buck, in lieu of a reply, kisses eddie and that would be how s5 ended, ushering buddie canon in s6 where we see them stumble, the whole wack-ass donor plotline would go away bc eddie would be there to talk some sense into buck, eddie would tell the buckley parents to fuck off, buck would still get struck by lightning and eddie would grapple with the idea of losing someone else (to give that shannon angst another stroke), we still get the poker date where it’s still a fluffy buddie moment, buck would continue recovering but he and eddie would grow distant bc buck would have similar post-lightning strike stress about not knowing what to feel, and eddie sould be repressing his emotions about it— lead to some angst with natalia flirting w buck, buck being flattered at someone not treating him like a living corpse, eddie getting pissed st this woman for thinking buck’s death is “cool” and thinking that buck might leave him for natalia, they have a mini (VERY mini) devorce era 2.0 that would get resolved during the freeway collapse and s6 would end with a bathena parallel of them getting secret married. then s7 would have been completely different bc we would have no racist man, no weird nun storyline, no doppelgänger bullshit, etc. We would get some secretly married buddie, possibly some more discussions of catholic guilt bc eddie doesn’t know if he’s ready to come out to his parents yet, eddie would come out to them and they would react badly, and s7 would end w ramon and helena starting a custody battle w buck and eddie over christopher.

yes i basically just rewrote the entirety of s5-7 but we deserved better than what we got from each of those seasons so 🤷🤷 if the creators won’t fo it themselves, someone has to.

anyway i hope this answered your question anon lmao <3 i kinda just sat down and started typing this out with no real clear direction but honestly… i might consider a series of fix-it fics to rewrite s5-7 in the future… but i make no promises

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie 911 #buck and eddie #911 buddie #fix it fic #kind of #911 season 7 #911 season 5 #911 season 6

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jealousmartini · 1 year ago

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JJK drself intro ig

I know I've posted her before but the last time I did on here she didn't get as much love as I wanted her to so here we go again🧍🏿‍♀️

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Year 2006, Season 1 Satsuma [no surname lol]

Curse technique: Electro shock

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

She usually manifests the curse by rubbing her hands together quickly to create electro static friction inbetween her hands and through out her body (Like how the doctors use those electric pad thingys to bring back someones pulse).

She can summon lightning strikes, but it's not always controllable. The lightning strikes can stun/tazer/electrocute anyone around her in a 15-foot radius (Electrocution is the worst effect you can get, being stund is the least harmful effect). She can manipulate the strikes through her body to her hands like a finger gun, striking any one target directly. She can also use this in terms of speed too.

Unfortunately, there is a dead giveaway when she's about to use her curse. The people around her will tend to get strong goosebumps, and their hair will start to stand up like lightning is about to strike. If she is interrupted while trying to use her curse, the energy will just be stored in her body. And if she uses too much, she will get hiccups and twitches.

Idk which hand sign I wanna do more. Either the winx club✌🏾✌🏾 or that magnetic thing🤘🏾🤘🏾by ILLIT

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Anyways, relationships.

[ Gojo, Geto, Shoko and Satsuma ] SatsOjoKoTo

The silliest quad ever. Shoko kinda adopted Satsuma into the group when they immediately hit it off, and Shoko was sick and tired trapped in the middle of Gojo and Geto's frequent bickering like an elderly couple. And needed another girl in the group.

It took Geto sometime to warm up to Satsu, but eventually started to like her when she was able to show off her curse. Meanwhile, Gojo found no trouble annoying her whenever he could. They both think her curse is quite cool, but they both think they're better than her, of course

[ Nanami and Satsuma ] SatsuNami

I'll update this sometime soon idk come back to see something here

[ Yuki, Choso and Satsuma ] YuChoSuma

If Satsuma was a canon character and placed into a trio by Gege or the JJK fan base like Gojo Geto and Shoko but only based off a specific scene in an episode, she would definitely be in a trio with Yuki and Choso when Yuki once said how she likes "Muddy men" referencing Choso, and then asked her "what kind of men do you like? Or women!" and Satsuma replied she can't ever make her mind up anyway. Muddy men are kind of cute, I guess, and pretty women make her nervous.

[ Sakuna and Satsuma ] SatsuKuna

I'll put something here later icba rn 🫠

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en-scribed · 1 year ago

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THE THREE BIRDS [fantasy short story]

Personified immortal Stars have lived secretly on Earth throughout history. This piece takes place in 13th century Iran, notable for astronomical scholarship, and Arabic star names are used as the main roots. Waqi (currently the Star Vega) leads Taira (Altair) and Dhanab (Deneb) on a mission to secure the Stars' carefully kept secret existence. The Stars' world was created by myself and @heirmyst. Next post: [ORION'S FINEST] [GATHERER OF GRAIN] [CENTER OF THE WORLD] Word count: 5,201

Waqi climbed the sky higher, relentlessly battling the air with every flap of their wings. As they gained altitude, frost dared to gather on their face. Unfazed, they summoned latent blue fire from within, melting it on immediate impact.

Good attempt, nature, they thought, smiling into the forceful wind. But only I decide when to stop.

Except even the grandest flights rested on the premise of a zenith… and its aftermath. Finally, air thinned to nothing, and Earth below seemed a faint suggestion of matter. The time had come. Waqi slowed the frenzied movement of their wings.

They took a deep breath, savoring the moment. “Here it comes.”

Then, they let themself fall.

The air just barely carried the sound they let out, halfway between a laugh and a scream of delight.

This was their favorite part. They would never admit it on the ground, where every part of them itched to fight the atmosphere with their wings and fly, however high the day would let them. Many times, they’d said to other Stars that they’d happily give up immortality if it meant they could fly for the rest of their existence, and the sentiment was barely a joke. But the fall? They lived for it, and the air as they burned their way down was the sweetest they’d ever taste.

Clouds faded into view, gray and rumbling, preparing to unleash a deluge onto Iran. Waqi’s fists heated up, glowing with ready blasts; they could not let this unacceptable weather stand.

They plunged into the mess. When fog took over their vision, they pivoted sharply, punching at the nearest storm cloud. The lightning crackling inside was no match for Waqi’s own strikes of energy. They cut through the surrounding air in a wide arc, so swiftly that the clouds vanished with a whimper.

“You tried,” Waqi said, laughing to themself as they took off to vanquish the brewing storm from the rest of the sky.

They moved with instinctive ease when they shed their corporeal form to become a merciless blue lightning bolt. It was less satisfying than punches and blasts, but it killed every threatened storm before it got the chance to materialize, all the while keeping Waqi hidden from any onlooking human’s eyes.

Of course, the tactic traded away precision for raw power.

They didn’t process hitting the wrong target until the voices rang out.

“Waqi!” Dhanab yelled, halting the excitement with a start. “What in the skies did you do that for?”

Waqi shifted back into their usual form, steadying their flight with their wings and blinking the scene before them into clarity. Their Star friends Dhanab and Taira hovered in front of them. Dhanab was scrambling to cover her head. Taira had stopped midway through braiding Dhanab’s hair, barely containing laughs.

Slowly, Waqi turned around. Remnants of lightning floated in empty air, having burned a hole in the white cloud structure around them. They’d destroyed a Star lodging. For the third time that week. And this time, they didn’t get to pretend they were heroically fighting monstrous Hauntings, because this was nothing but a cloud punching spree.

They faced their friends with a sheepish smile. “I’ve interrupted something, I gather?”

“I’d say so, yes,” Taira said lightly, at the same time as Dhanab muttered, “Not the first time.”

“In my defense,” Waqi began. “I had—”

“North Star duties,” the two finished in unison.

Waqi looked away, sighing. There went their excuse. “I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to make it up to you?”

A scheming smirk crept across Dhanab’s face. “Taira?”

“Hm.” Taira stretched and cracked her joints in preparation. “Since you've so kindly offered...”

Waqi had barely enough time to summon a defensive forcefield when Taira shot toward them with unbelievable speed. She tackled them off the cloud’s ledge. Waqi fought to keep their flight steady among her unpredictable movements and countered her every hit. Laughing all the way, they tumbled wherever Taira wished, because as strong as a flier as Waqi was, they only fought the air; Taira held it at her command.

“Unfair!” Waqi protested, pushing Taira’s voluminous wind blown hair away from their own face. “I’m taking this up with the king!”

“What’s the matter?” Taira said, between laughs. “Holding back so I’ll be taken off guard by your next move?”

Waqi caught her next punches, holding both of her hands in place with a surge of lightning. They grinned. “You know me too well. This is a tactical liability.”

She cried out as Waqi seized her hair and flipped her over their head. As soon as they readied their next blast, their arm locked up, illuminating with a silvery blue glow.

The rest of their body followed. Taira also froze. The two Stars’ descent had been halted by a joy-killing outside force.

“Dhanab!” Waqi yelled to the sky. “It was just going to get good!”

Taira snorted. “For you, maybe.”

Dhanab swooped gracefully down from above, landing only a few feet below without breaking her telekinetic hold on the other two. Waqi gaped. Were they that close to the ground already?

“Do you want to let all of Maragha in on the secret?” Dhanab asked, gesturing frantically to the town behind her.

“Oh, we’re in trouble now?” Taira asked.

“You will be, keeping this up,” Dhanab said. “Two wild winged beasts screaming and clawing at each other is hardly discreet.”

Waqi raised an eyebrow. “And two wild winged beasts suspended in midair by a third, decidedly more stuck-up winged beast… is?”

Dhanab opened her mouth to argue, then shrugged. “Point taken.” With one wave of her hand, the glow faded, and Waqi and Taira collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Waqi brushed themself free. Dhanab pointedly looked past them in favor of helping Taira up. Only Taira.

“The disrespect,” Waqi said with mock offense, forcing themself to their feet. “This is how you treat your North Star?”

Dhanab smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t dream of insinuating the North Star could possibly need my help.”

Waqi rolled their eyes and shifted their attention to the sky. At least from here, they could check whether they’d succeeded in averting the storm. They expected to see clear blue conditions, plagued by a few maddening remnants of a storm they happened to miss. Instead they were met with… a sunset. In the distance, the town of Maragha seemed to come alive, suddenly bustling with movement.

“Oh no,” Taira said quietly behind them.

“I know,” they agreed, exasperated, glaring at the accursed observatory on a nearby hill. “Now we’ll have to listen to the evening prayer.”

“I like the sound of the prayer,” Dhanab said quietly.

Taira shook her head. “It isn’t that! The sun set too early.” Oh, Waqi thought. They’d assumed they simply lost track of time once more. “Waqi,” Taira said, all humor gone from her voice. Disoriented by the sudden change in mood, Waqi turned to face her. “This is a whole hour early.”

Dhanab’s eyes widened. “An hour? Did the king tell you anything about this?”

Waqi laughed, but their voice shook with uncertainty. “There you two go, taking everything the sky does so seriously…”

“Even if we didn’t, the humans would!” Dhanab argued. “Especially here. Their prayer relies on this, you think they won’t look into the situation? And if they look too deep, they’ll find us, and then the secret keepers might tell on us too, and—”

“Dhanab.” Taira wrapped an arm around her. “Slow down. Breathe.” She looked to Waqi for support.

Their words caught in their throat. Skies above, they had not expected a morale strengthening task today. “I’ll… speak to Sol,” they blurted out, “and get this all sorted! He’ll play some trick of sunlight, hide the irregularity. This kind of thing is easy for him! It will be fine.”

The Star king’s name seemed to put the two at ease. Yes, Sol would fix this, and Waqi would have free reign to make fun of his overly dramatic success speeches to his face afterward. That was how this was supposed to go.

“Before that,” Taira piped up, “maybe we can go and ask director Tusi’s minions what they think is happening.” She tilted head toward the observatory. “To see how much damage we’ll have to undo.”

Waqi made a face at the thought of vanishing their wings. “Go and ask. In the guise of a human?”

“As a man?” Dhanab added, equally offended. “No, thank you.”

Both of them stared at Taira. She sighed, closing her wings and gathering up her long cloudlike tresses. “The usual, I see.”

“Don’t act as if you don’t like it,” Dhanab said.

Taira winked at her. “I let you off the hook only because you’re too beautiful to pass as a man.”

Dhanab flushed, but got to work on tearing a section of her own outer robes, wrapping it around Taira’s hair as a makeshift turban.

“You could just give over your scarf,” Waqi pointed out.

“Waqi, please!” Dhanab said, scandalized. “I am not going to stay out here uncovered!”

That sounded absolutely ridiculous, but Waqi chose not to argue. They never did see the point in bothering with matters of earthly conduct, when by all means the Stars were meant to live above them all. This is why they could never stomach any task that involved walking among humans. Their status as North Star, Stardom’s first line of defense, would surely get lost among the endless customs and rules that every other little kingdom offered a different version of. Such a life was inconceivable.

Still, they noticed that Dhanab was pointedly trying to avoid being perceived with torn robes. Wordlessly, they walked in such a way to conceal her from any passersby’s view, keeping a low profile as they trailed Taira.

Not that Taira made it particularly easy.

With a skip in his step, Taira closed in on the observatory hill at a quick pace. Too quick. The other two almost struggled to keep up and stay hidden at the same time.

“What’s his hurry?” Waqi whispered to Dhanab.

“You know Taira,” Dhanab said. “At least he hasn’t resorted to flying. Yet.”

Waqi and Dhanab stopped at a distance, hanging back as Taira went on. He reached the entrance of the central observatory tower, greeting the two workers outside like old friends. One of the men straightened up to receive the new company, while the other remained pointedly occupied perusing an astronomical manual.

“Peace be upon you, brothers!” Taira said. “I could not help noticing that the sun has been down for several counts too far, and I have not heard the call for Maghrib yet.”

“Upon you be peace. I do not know what to tell you, Al-Ta’ir,” the attentive man said, his tone apologetic, as if he was fully ready to take the blame for the heavens breaking an otherwise flawless pattern. “Sirvan and I have been in conversation all day, and we haven’t yet reached an impasse.”

“Forget this pretense, Payam. Tell him like it is!” the other man, Sirvan snapped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and, without warning, shoved the manual in Taira’s face. “Look at this!”

Taira stayed silent for too long. “Yes,” he said, purely to appease the worker. “This is… most irregular.”

“Irregular,” Sirvan said with a bitter laugh. “For all our lives the sky stays constant! Predictable! ‘Study the heavens,’ Tusi tells us, ‘Mark prayers as God commands!’ How were we meant to know the sun can set anytime!”

Waqi rolled their eyes. Humans truly believed their neat tables could map the skies out to the letter. As if the Stars had nothing better to do than move in strict patterns for their convenience. An impulsive lightning blast threatened to break free at their fist. Dhanab touched their hand, stopping it right there.

“I believe I should call out Maghrib now,” Payam said carefully. “The people will be concerned.”

“Concerned?” Sirvan said, baffled. “This is unlike anything we’ve seen!”

Taira wisely saw his exit. “Thank you, brothers,” he said, though Sirvan’s diatribe about the fundamental principles of the sun’s movement drowned it out. “I trust your decision, and eagerly await your call.” Meaningfully, he caught Payam’s eye at the last word.

With that, Taira left the scene as swiftly as he’d arrived, regrouping with Dhanab and Waqi.

“Overreacting scholars,” Waqi said. “This is probably nothing!”

Taira ignored them. “Payam is the muazzin. I’ve dropped as many suggestions as it’s appropriate for me to do. I think we’ll be in the clear, if he can get his volatile brother calmed or distracted long enough to call the prayer.”

“I hope he does,” Dhanab said softly.

“That’s all we can do for our coverup on the human side, but we’ll stick around just in case.” Taira turned to Waqi. “The rest is up to you. Ask Sol what’s going on. He’s the only one who can make this seamless.”

Waqi nodded. This, at least, they could do. Leaving their friends at the hill, they crept a safe distance away from wandering townspeople’s eyes.

Then, they opened their wings and shot off into the early night sky. The air was clear, carrying that sweet tropical taste that came only when the dark settled and—

Focus, they reminded themself, shaking off the intoxication. This flight had to be short, direct. Purely economical.

They ascended just enough for their head to peek through clouds.

Waqi looked around, and almost didn’t recognize Sol’s home at first. They were so used to the sight of extravagantly piled clouds, reflecting sunlight with infuriating perfection, that they only processed the black clouds in front of them as an incoming weather disaster.

Somewhere on the way to destroying the storm, they realized it floated where their best friend’s home should have been.

“Sol?” Waqi’s voice broke embarrassingly at the call of his name.

Any moment, the only part of them still clinging to hope insisted. Any moment, Sol would fly out, laugh triumphantly about his incredible unexpected practical joke, and fix everything.

No answer came.

Waqi rammed themself into the mass of black clouds, their mind racing. The structure fell apart pathetically, the only sign of Sol’s brilliant presence being stray plumes of flame. Actual flame. Not the inviting light that always decorated the king’s home.

Waqi emerged on the other side into empty air. The home being deserted, leaving only storm clouds and flame, and whatever the early sunset was…

All signs pointed to a struggle.

Waqi glared at the remnants of black smoke around them with newfound hatred. This was no longer annoying weather. It was the herald of the enemies—assassins—who took Sol away… and after seeing it, Waqi was sitting here, staring into space like an idiot.

They needed to act now. In a flash of blue lightning, they dived, right back to the spot where they left their friends. The grass beneath them caught fire as the shock of the ground returned them to their corporeal form. Before they had time to breathe, someone grabbed their shoulder.

“Careful! You’ll—” Dhanab’s usual chiding stopped short, and her face softened into concern. “What happened?”

Waqi tried to contort their features into something less alarming. Judging by their friends’ confused glances, it did not work.

“What did the king say?” Taira asked. “He didn’t deny the request, did he?”

A laugh, clipped and shaky, escaped Waqi’s throat at the question. “It’s a hard thing even for him, to deny something he hasn’t even heard,” they said. “Something broke into his home. Only storm clouds remain there.”

A shadow passed over the other two’s faces. Taira took a deep breath. “Please don’t tell me…”

“Hauntings?” Dhanab asked, her voice small. It was barely a question.

“Listen to me,” Waqi said, grasping her hand, suddenly emboldened by their friends’ clear panic. Waqi couldn’t afford to be scared when they had other Stars to worry about. “No one can hear of this. Not until we get to the bottom of it.”

“Waqi,” Taira said. They couldn’t help but flinch. They hated when all playfulness faded from her voice like that. “This isn’t some accidental cabin fire we can just pretend is an act of nature. This is an attempted Haunting assassination, and if those monsters even got to the king, what chance—”

“They didn’t get to him!” Waqi snapped. “It’s Sol! Skies above, will you have some faith? For all we know, he reduced them all to ashes and is just… hunting for a new home. Or better yet, for the assassins’ allies.”

This half of North Star duties, the one which was conquered by words rather than fire, never came naturally to Waqi. Yet, often, they found they could simply speak anything into existence, and if it softened even a single line of worry on a fellow Star’s face, it would do the trick. For better or worse, Waqi held all the cards here. They knew Sol better than anyone; whatever they said about him, the other two had to take it by necessity.

Waqi needed to take it too. It was all they had.

“You’re right,” Dhanab said, mercifully. “Yes, that must be it!”

“So, all we do is track him down. It’s the same plan as before… just with this extra step.” They spoke feverishly right as the words came to them. “Taira. Those trails of dark smog from Hauntings are left in the sky for hours after the fact, are they not?”

Taira nodded, a hint of her usual laidback confidence returning to her eyes. “If the monsters escaped—”

“There’s no way in hell Sol would let them go free without pursuit,” Waqi finished. They braced themself for flight. “Lead the way. We’re right behind you.”

And so, the three Stars took to the skies. They cast jokes and idle conversation between themselves like playing balls, masking any unwanted urgency. The premature night hung around them heavily. Even as they followed the sickening, viscous Haunting trail, no one dared to suggest the unspoken; that the king was likely in danger and it may be up to them to save him. Sol was supposed to save them, not the other way around.

You’re fine, Sol, Waqi thought to themself repeatedly, reassuring their own mind and daring their friend to meet the challenge. They need you to be fine. You can give them that much.

Give me that much.

When the trail ended its forward snaking in the sky and dissolved into fog, Taira began to descend and the other two followed. An expansive lake awaited them below. It boiled furiously, despite the cool night, sending warm air towards the Stars.

“Here we are,” Taira whispered. “Now, either the Hauntings show themselves, or Sol comes out… let’s hope we don’t have to do something drastic.”

Waqi strained their eyes to see the lake past the fog. Why was it boiling? “I swear… why can’t we just—”

“Don’t summon a flame,” Dhanab warned, reading their mind. “Wait for it.”

“Wait?” Waqi shot back, incredulous. “For them to—”

Something shot out of the lake. One projectile gave way to several, piercing the silence with the high whistles of Haunting laughter. The fog stopped the Stars from seeing the attack, but they all heard it, and knew the lack of light would not let them dodge. Taira screamed as a Haunting assailant tackled her into the darkness.

“No!” Dhanab instantly moved to follow Taira’s faint white flame.

Waqi prepared a blast. “Leave it to me!”

Dhanab blocked their path, taking hold of their shoulders. “I’ve got her. You should look for the king.”

Look for the king. Waqi knew what she meant to say, but they resented the wording anyway. It was far too close to acknowledging the danger they’d so carefully chosen to downplay. Still, she stayed, her gaze lingering on them with clear anxiety. She wouldn’t go without their express order.

“Go,” Waqi told her. “Do… whatever it is you were already going to.”

She smiled, relieved. “North Star duty!” she called out encouragingly, flitting away to Taira’s aid.

Dropping every precaution about stealth, Waqi lit themself up in a burst of blue flame. The fog lifted. Finally, finally, they could see their attackers, scattered in midair and on the banks of the lake; without the cloak of darkness, the Hauntings carried forms befitting creatures of earth, except far too big, and closer to humans in terms of gait and clarity of disruptive purpose. This assortment of aquatic bait froze in fear at Waqi’s explosion, even the overgrown shrimp that had Dhanab and Taira locked in battle. Waqi relished the look of shock on the monsters’ faces. Clearly, they hadn’t been expecting the North Star.

Just as quickly, they recovered with shrill battle cries, and the inky fog wafted into the air once more. This time, Waqi was ready.

They shot lightning indiscriminately, warding off the first few human-sized black crustacean Hauntings that leapt up at them. The flame stayed steady all the way, keeping their sight clear throughout every scuffle. The effort of keeping up defenses still remained a liability. They could not take in a single iota of their surroundings if every moment was punctuated by a strike at the relentless Haunting flock.

“Clear me an opening!” Waqi yelled to their friends.

Practically before Waqi finished speaking, it was done. Dhanab seized telekinetic control of the flock’s edges, and Taira sped to take out anyone who dared step into Waqi’s radius.

With newfound freedom, Waqi began a swift descent… and it allowed them a crucial glance at the mysteriously boiling lake.

A golden light flickered beneath, its glow coloring fire into the angry waters.

Sol.

Waqi didn’t think. They dove headfirst, the fall heating up their every inch. Hauntings cried out, attempted a poorly thought out deflection, but Waqi’s fire now radiated fatally. Just try it now, they dared the assassins. Naturally, not a single one met the challenge.

The saline water greeted them all at once.

Any numbing power it might have had over Waqi was warded off by the burning field surrounding them. They had bigger concerns.

“You came,” said an unmistakable voice behind them, with a tone of never having expected anything else. “My one and only North Star.”

Waqi turned sharply to look at Sol, relief and frustration warring within them for the chance to guide their response. Neither got the chance, because an ink-black current hit them instead.

The staggering force threw them back, until they wedged their feet against the lake floor and opened their wings. They summoned a field of energy, protecting them from the onslaught. Waqi stepped forward, fighting the water with all they had, and broke into a run. The Hauntings they rammed into crumpled at the slightest touch of fire.

Waqi had help down here too. Sol’s pillar of flame, emboldened by the new arrival, burned brighter, working with Waqi’s to purify the waters. When the blackness cleared, the piscine Hauntings that cast the torrent at them instantly skittered away from fear. Good.

At long last, the sunny glow was uninhibited. Every malicious assassin who stood between Waqi and Sol had been vanquished. As for Sol himself, his wings had been folded down and forcibly fastened to a rock formation by the Hauntings’ signature viscous ink. His brilliant golden locks, plumes of flame that had been boiling the lake from underneath, finally settled into soft waves. Despite the tired, sunken shadows beneath his eyes, he beamed at his friend like nothing had happened.

“I take it you have questions,” Sol said, calm as ever.

“Oh, you don't know the half of it. Hold still!” Waqi struck Sol’s restraints with lightning, setting his wings free. Sol stumbled forward from the sudden unshackling, and Waqi moved to steady him. “Do you need a moment?”

Any sign of weakness faded as his eyes flashed with clear offense. “Who in the everloving skies do you think I am?”

Waqi laughed. There he was. “I was only making sure. Come on!”

They seized his arm, guiding him to the surface until his wings recovered enough to pull his own weight. Waqi made it to the surface first, taking in the taste of pure wind and then turning to help Sol onto solid ground. A clear night sky shone above them, decorated with stars, free of any fog. The smell of charred flesh and the odd black puddle on the bank were the only signs that Hauntings had even been there.

“Well done,” Sol said, finally allowing Waqi to unclench their muscles. He’d said the word, so the fight was over.

A short distance away, Dhanab stood over Taira, no doubt fussing endlessly over every minor scratch Taira had sustained during her scuffle with the shrimp Haunting. All the while, Taira stared at her, smiling like she’d won something beyond the fight, not making a single move to stop her. Waqi rolled their eyes fondly. Those two could accomplish untold feats exemplifying every Star ideal, and still act afterward more like illicitly close adolescent human girls.

Sol strode toward them. “I see I have you two to thank for this infestation’s defeat.”

Dhanab jumped to attention, rushing to adjust her scarf. “My king! It is… an immeasurable relief to see you again.”

He laughed good naturedly, extending a hand to help Taira to her feet. “Are you alright?”

She took it. “That shrimp was far sturdier than he looked.”

“You must forgive me for the confusion this must have caused,” Sol said, and Waqi made a considerable effort to not bite back in the presence of their friends. “As valiantly as you fought, I never like having to send you all into Haunting territory.”

Taira scoffed. “You didn’t need us, my king. We all saw how you boiled the lake. Waqi told us on the way you were probably destroying them already, and they were right!”

Sol turned to Waqi, an unspoken question in his eyes. Waqi met his eyes meaningfully. Later, they tried to tell him.

Dhanab cleared her throat. “There’s still the matter of… the early sunset,” she said, thankfully changing the subject. “The humans were very shaken up.”

“Ah,” Sol said, glaring at the sky with truly personal resentment. “An unfortunate side effect of my… divergence, after the assassination attempt.” He stood up straighter. “No matter. The irregularities will be smoothed over by next morning. And our North Star here can convey the desired story to the secret keepers.”

“What?” Waqi protested. “Please don’t make me talk to Tusi again! He’s insufferable!”

The other three laughed, because Waqi’s misfortune was the joke that united them all. Some friends, Waqi thought, though they couldn’t stop their smile.

Taira stretched out her arms. They cracked painfully, sending out sparks, but she pretended not to notice. “Well, that’s taken care of. I should check Maragha’s parameter for any runaways.”

“Absolutely not,” Sol scolded. “Dhanab, get her straight home and make sure she doesn’t set a single wingbeat out until next sunrise. This is an order.”

Already at attention, Dhanab grabbed Taira’s hand and spread her wings. “Yes, my king! Let’s go, Waqi.”

“You two go ahead,” they said, mustering all the cheer they could. “I need to speak with the king.”

It was a common enough request that the two didn’t think twice about. Waqi watched as arm in arm, Dhanab and Taira took off into the sky, chattering between themselves about plans for the next day.

Once they were sure the two were out of earshot, Waqi punched Sol in the face.

Sol, naturally, barely flinched. “And here I thought you’d be the bigger Star about this,” he said flatly.

Waqi swung another fist, overflowing with everything they’d been holding back. “The bigger Star? You—” They pointed an accusing, lightning infused finger, giving up all pretense of being the unbothered North Star. “—scared the absolute shit out of me, you know that?”

Sol sighed. “Of course. I realize it was not ideal, but—”

“I had to tell them you were fine.” Breathlessly, they laughed, because the absurdity didn’t let them react any other way. “I mean, even after the sunset, I’d seen the state of your home. And I had to look them in the eyes and tell them you weren’t in trouble. And all this time, the Hauntings actually overpowered you, imprisoned you in a fucking lake? They could’ve hurt you, or worse!”

“They could have done no such thing,” Sol said, so emphatically that it actually gave Waqi pause. “I was in no danger. I knew you’d come.”

“Oh, please…”

Sol took their shoulders and stared them right in the eye. Quietly, with terrifying emphasis, he said, “I let them capture me.”

Waqi froze, at a loss for words.

“I had no time to decide.” He spoke hurriedly, like he needed to make Waqi understand in the shortest time possible. “The assassins came, and all I could think was, are there others nearby, and will they hurt the other Stars if I don’t act? I allowed my home to be ransacked, and I allowed them the false sense of confidence to imprison me. And… the plan had been to do away with them all once they took me to their base, but…”

“The lake,” Waqi finished. “And the darkness, and the combined force of the flock. Just one of those three at a time you could’ve taken. Not all at once.”

“It did not end me, or even hurt much. It did worse, momentarily weakening me enough that I couldn’t fight back. I counted on you to finish it for me.” Finally taking a breath, he smiled. “And you did.”

Any trace of lingering anger Waqi might have harbored evaporated. They pulled Sol into an embrace, taking great pleasure in the fact that he, eternal king of Stars, melted into it instantly. “You know I always will,” they said, and they meant it. Sol was put on such a pedestal by other Stars, and Waqi knew how thin he was spread because of it. They were the one person he had to fall back on; this was the least they could do. “Still, for the love of the skies, never pull something like this again. Your grand kingly plans are going to be the death of me.”

“But you cannot die.”

“I’m also best friends with a king who believes the basic principles of reality are optional,” they joked, letting go of the hug. “It’s safer to not take anything for granted.”

“That sounds fair,” Sol conceded. “All of this aside, I will ask you… keep the reality of this day between us.”

Waqi nodded. As if they needed to be told. “I’m not your trusted North Star for nothing.” They beat their wings twice and rose, itching to take to a clear sky for the first time that day. “Get up here!” they called down to Sol.

“To where?” he said with a laugh. “You know what became of my home.”

“Well, fortunately for you, I’m feeling daring today,” they said. “I think it’s about time I rebuild a cloud home, instead of crushing every one I touch.”

#writing #fantasy writing #short story #original character #oc #stars collapse #en writes #historical fantasy #back with a new miniseries!#if you've read the previous one #yes this is the same vega just some seven hundred years ago #the research. so much has been done. this ate up months of my life #please enjoy #and ask me about islamic astronomy

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gamerbot-22 · 5 months ago

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Calm Before Lightning Strikes

Prompt: Scarf

TW/CW: Spoilers for Penacony, vague reference to a character death, romantic tension between Acheron and Black Swan with nothing explicit, possibly OOC, barely proofread and I appreciate spellchecks!

Word Count: 378

A/N: So this one was a bit of a challenge for me, it took like three passes lol. I love Acheron dearly but for some reason it was a little difficult to get into her headspace. That's a stumbling block I have with a lot of cool/collected characters, but I still think this came out okay!

Likes and Reblogs appreciated and Requests are Open! Read this story on Ao3 here!

<- Previous Ficlet | Collection Post | Next Ficlet ->

The dividers in this post were made by @/gamerbot-22 (me!) ☆

Acheron was used to scenes like that, standing there, in front of the blood red tear in the sky where her blade literally tore through the fabric of the Dreamscape. She’d done it before, and usually it faded in her mind after a while, but in her mind’s eye, even on the way to where Black Swan was waiting, it was still bright red, like a wound just before it started to bleed.

What made it different, she wondered. She ran over that final goodbye with Aventurine. It wasn’t often that she saw someone walk into the void of Nihility with a smile like that. It almost made her skin crawl, but she couldn’t tell why. Maybe she was just tired. It had been non-stop since she arrived here. Hell, even before that.

“There you are,” chimed an increasingly familiar voice, smooth and sultry. Black Swan rose from her little hiding place, tucked in the shadows between two looming skyscrapers. “You almost walked past me. Something on your mind?”

Acheron stopped. She held her breath a moment, then turned to face the Memokeeper with the same brave face she faced everything. “No,” she lied, “just ready to be out of here.”

Black Swan’s yellow eyes narrowed as she smiled, almost looking like a cat instead of a bird as she approached. “Not like that you’re not.”

Before Acheron could even begin ask what she meant by that, she felt something soft around her shoulders and neck, almost like she’d been wrapped in a tuft of clouds. The scarf was fastened gently with a little knot, worrying the indigo fabric before Black Swan’s fingers smoothed it over.

“What is—“

“Not done yet.” A hood was raised over Acheron’s head, and suddenly her vision turned shadowy, as if she were wearing a veil.

“There. Now you’re done,” Black Swan mused. “That should keep you better hidden from any prying eyes while we make our dashing escape. And it should keep you warm.”

“…This is a dream. I don’t really feel cold.”

“Then don’t worry about that part.” The Memokeeper stepped to the side and held her arm out towards the street, her fingers curled gracefully. “Shall we?”

Acheron adjusted her sword and the hem of the shroud. “Lead the way.”

#Rosie Writes #Acheron #Black Swan #Acheron x Black Swan #Kinda #Does anyone know their ship name?#Penacony Spoilers #Honkai Star Rail #HSR #Honkai Star Rail Fanfic #HSR Fanfic #Daily HSR Ficlet

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antivanplumage · 2 months ago

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worldstate questionaire by @fromthedaswithlove

part 5: the champion of the fade, nero de riva

Who did your protagonist romance and why? Do they have secondary choices?

nero romanced neve. i had my heart set on this ever since neve was revealed, basically, but i once again have no regrets. although i almost went for harding.

also they and taash definitely explored each others' bodies after the 'are you trying to have sex with me' scene don't believe the game's lies

Do they have any regrets?

unlike the other members of my worldstate who are chronically consumed by their regrets, i don't think they have many. even if it's only because of a heavy dose of self-delusion. the regret prison also helped them break out of that train of thought.

this also strikes a nice contrast between them and solas, who is still very much stuck in the past

Do they have a family?

the only person nero actually considers family is viago. their bio aunt is talya but they want to beat her with hammers when they start talking because they think she's such a miserable doomer. (and also because she's part of the biggest embarrassment to the crows this age.)

What is their Specialization? Is there a reason they chose it?

spellblade. crow training, y'know? they're basically a rogue who happens to have lightning powers

Do they have a preferred weapon? Preferred armor set?

thorn of misfortune + thunderclap orb. i have the recruit's simple tunic equipped for bonuses but nero in warden gear is incredibly cursed and i just rotate them out of a few crow outfits. mostly these two. (sorry i keep reusing the same three scenes, the piercings got added mid-playthrough)

Do they have a preferred skill that they use often? (example: spells from the spirit tree in Inquisition)

void blade<3

What does your Rook’s life look like before Veilguard?

nero was an average low-level recruit for the crows - the only thing that made them interesting was that they were taken in as a young child found in ferelden during the blight. they fought tooth and nail to prove themself, but things only started looking up once their magic manifested in their early teens, which happened after divine victoria abolished the circles.

nero didn't get much proper mage training because of this, but it instantly made them a hot commodity. most of the houses wanted them - it'd been a very long time since the crows were allowed to keep a mage child instead of recruiting apostates later in life

this part is still kind of fuzzy, but i think they do something for viago or viago does something for them that gets them to latch onto him. viago, freshly a talon, really likes this scrappy impulsive kid, and so many people are vying for nero's abilities that they're able to choose. so, they choose house de riva.

viago isn't easy on them, but the landscape in house de riva is changing anyways, because he's generally softer on his recruits. it's mostly out of pragmatism - unlike a lot of old school talons, viago actually recognizes that not viciously abusing your recruits means they'll be more loyal (and i'm pretty sure i adopted this hc from someone else's post that worded it better but I CAN'T FIND IT) - but it still means that things change.

but nero doesn't. mentally, they're still stuck in the place they were before viago became talon and before their magic came in. survival of the fittest. fighting for table scraps. killing the other children around them just to survive another day.

anyways, once nero becomes a full crow, they sink into hedonism and the masks they wear, but their heart is still completely devoted to the crows. if they're given an order, they will follow it. all the while, they keep reaching for more and more and more - all to try and rise in the ranks and make their mark on history.

What did your Rook do during their backstory?

(not sure if i'm interpreting this question right?) oh, y'know, intercepted an antaam slave patrol without permission, fought 20 soldiers to one, and then got exiled instead of the attention and status like they thought they were going to get.

How does your Rook get exiled from their faction?

they went against orders and apparently intercepted a larger talon operation against the antaam. okay, DAD.

How do they feel about their exile from their faction?

mad. losing their damn mind. "oh so, when the DEMON OF VYRANTIUM goes above and beyond, he gets a cool title, but when i do i just get kicked out. i see how it is." they're so desperate to prove themself after this point, and the existence of their contract is the only thing to stop them from going off the rails.

How did they meet Varric?

he got captured by said antaam. not sure why he was there. solas didn't say while telling that story. i don't think he knew either

How do they feel about joining Varric’s quest in stopping the Dread Wolf?

they took it dead serious, if only because it was a contract, and a crow doesn't abandon a contract. also they'd be SUCH a hot shot back in the crows once the contract was done, they might be able to get somewhere with this

What would Rook’s casual outfit be?

the sable doublet fits them very well, actually. when i finally started modding vg i just changed it to a purple recolor and deshined it. shows off their chest scars and tattoos, vaguely slutty, 10/10.

How does your Rook feel about Minrathous? Treviso? Necropolis? Arlathan? Hossberg Wetlands? Rivain?

nero adores dock town. treviso isn't their home base, but anywhere in antiva feels like home. the necropolis is weird and unsettling, especially because spirits are obsessed with nero and they don't like the fade already. arlathan is beautiful but really intimidating for similar reasons. the hossberg wetlands is gross and wet and they hate the wardens so much (sorry davrin) and they want OUT OF THERE. rivain is... um... beach. i wish we could've seen something more than beach. they like beach though

What is Rook’s opinions of their companions?

lucanis: nero is desperately envious of lucanis from the very start. he has everything they want - a family that loves him, next in line for first talon, a fearsome reputation - and it doesn't even seem like he enjoys it. they fucking hate him for it, even if they can play nice.

they're only more infuriated once they get to know him. how is someone so calm, levelheaded, and kind such a good crow? the worst part is, it's a barrier that never gets broken down. lucanis closes himself off to nero after they abandon treviso, and they're left to deal with the gnawing feeling that they could've liked him, if only they didn't fuck everything up.

davrin: those friends who are always flirting with each other and nobody else knows if it's serious or not.

(side tangent: part of the bit between them is that zevran and talya accidentally gave crows and wardens a Reputation

davrin: it's that famous grey warden charm

nero (clearly a little smitten:) i'm not running away with you)

nero never had a high opinion of wardens, but davrin's dedication (and sheer charisma) gives them a new perspective on the order beyond 'overly serious probably-cultists with ego problems.' as an assassin and a monster hunter, they're surprisingly in sync when it comes to battle and strategy.

taash: elabored more on a later answer, but to make a long story short, they're who nero is closest to and understands the best in the group.

neve: nero is instantly infatuated with her, but neve surprises them by seeing through their vapid flirting and trying to dig past it. nero is very intrigued by people who aren't intimidated by them, and they also want to figure out what she sees in them, if it's not what they're trying to sell.

harding: harding is such a contradiction to nero. everything they've been raised to believe tells them that it's impossible to be Nice and survive in this world - but harding does. that really confuses and frustrates them.

something noteworthy about their relationship is that nero is so disconnected from their elven identity, that they see her arc with the titans from a dwarven perspective, not an elven one.

emmrich: emmrich immediately clocks that this mage kid has ISSUES about their relationship to magic and works to try and get them to see magic as more than a tool. nero appreciates this, sure, but also doesn't like that emmrich sees them as a pupil and not an equal, in their eyes. (not really true but. y'know.)

the veilguard will have you 23 with a 58 year old best friend, like damn, what's emmrich up to today?

bellara: on the surface, they don't have much in common. bellara is dalish, nero barely feels like an elf at all. she had a strong relationship with her brother, nero's never had a family. she's nice, they're... not. they appreciate her mind and all of the things about her they're not able to understand. they still love her, they're sure.

How does your Rook react to Solas’ connection to them?

hates it. they're constantly paranoid and terrified that solas might be watching them. they hate solas in general! uses every opportunity they have to antagonize him. this only flips during blood of arlathan when solas genuinely saves them, and against all odds, they feel grateful. they start trusting him just in time to get betrayed. it's awesome.

learning solas had been fabricating varric as alive and well to manipulate them from both ends makes them feel disgusting and violated. they're not able to trust their own perception of reality for a very, very long time.

How does your Rook deal with leading the team while Varric rests? Are they a capable leader?

instantly, they switch the charm on. fine. they need a leader? nero can be a leader. they don't know why they're leader, but they can do it.

at first, they're just playing a role and doing what people would expect of 'rook,' but to their credit, they do well. still, slowly but surely, they realize they like it. they like making decisions. they like having the chance to practice mercy. they like leading instead of working from the shadows.

but that raises the question... who is nero? are they more rook, or more crow?

more importantly, if nero is more rook, is that compatible with returning to the crows? if it's not, can they be happy with that choice?

Is there a particular order that your Rook recruits everyone in?

aren't most of those locked in? it was harding > neve > bellara > lucanis (begrudgingly) > davrin > taash > emmrich

What city does your Rook save?

in a stunning turn of events, minrathous. nero is incredibly impulsive, but for once in their life, they think, and the conclusion they draw is that they don't want the city to be overtaken by venatori. regardless, lucanis + viago + teia will be able to handle it, right?

(narrator voice) no they could not

Who is your Rook the closest to?

taash. they were fucking. but also they're both the youngest members of the veilguard (nero is 23,) struggle with impulsivity, and both have similar Gender things going on. enough to help each other out. by talking about their own feelings about their gender to help taash, nero starts to actually settle into a presentation they're happy with, instead of trying to reflect what the world wants to see from them.

i think they do each other's undercuts. in a queer way

What faction does your Rook max out stars with?

all of them ingame but lorewise i don't think they max out stars with the wardens and the mourn watch. i gaf more than them

Who does Rook like the most out of the leaders of the factions?

well. viago. that's oomf.

but excluding the obvious answer, isabela but it's 90% because they want her so bad they're practically drooling every time they meet. isabela knows this and she thinks it's so funny. she couldn't do it. reminds her of a young zevran too much (they'd scream if they heard this,) and she's past that point in her life, y'know?

If Rook could switch factions, which one would they join? What would their reason be?

lords of fortune, but they'd never seriously consider a switch - they're too loyal to the crows. still, they love the lords and the people in it. they'd definitely have fun, but they're not out here for fun.

How does your Rook feel about Spite? How do they deal with him?

at the start, nero is very uneasy around spite, constantly making it clear to lucanis that if something goes wrong, they won't hesitate to strike him down.

in the save treviso path, their relationship evolves past this, but in the save minrathous path, they never stop seeing spite as a somewhat scary inconvenience, no matter how fascinated spite is by them in return.

How does your Rook feel about a Lich!Emmrich? How do they feel about Manfred?

nero initially supports emmrich's ambitions, but in the end, they choose to save manfred instead. they're surprised that their sentimentality got the best of them, but they love manfred.

How does your Rook deal with the Griffons? Do they go to Arlathan or remain with the Wardens?

they go to arlathan. nero doesn't really care about the wardens, and think that they've been doing fine enough without them. sorry talya:(

What does your Rook think of Hezenkoss? Of Aelia? The Dragon King? Anaris? The Titan’s Anger? Isseya? Zara Renata?

hezenkoss: would, without hesitation. sorry what were we talking about again-

aelie: would, with a bit of hesitation. sorry i'll actually elaborate on this one. nero doesn't have any personal beef with aelia, but neve hates her and so they hate her. they encouraged neve to kill her out of practicality. didn't she kill someone the last time the system failed? don't give her the chance to do it again. (bioware writing when i fucking Get you. anyways-)

the dragon king: takes great pleasure in the 'dragons have queens you idiot' bit. i don't think he's deep enough to have any opinions beyond that

anaris: nero has no real connection to their elven identity, and so doesn't empathize with or even understand who anaris is. he's just another baddie to them, even with the wrinkle of cyrian being involved. they're mad, sure, but it's just business.

the titan's anger: this one is interesting. nero learns about the dwarves and titans through harding. they empathize with and relate to her perspective much more than the ancient elves. they believe harding's anger is justified and she should hold onto it and make it righteous.

they don't feel any guilt for what was done to the titans - why should they feel bad - but knows that harding bottling up her negative emotions is what got them into this mess. (it really frustrates me that this ending for her is framed like the 'worse' one.)

isseya: 'oh so the wardens ARE weird cultists. got it.' what isseya had to do cements their decision to give the griffons to arlathan. they find the state she's in pitiful - not much more.

zara renata: neve what does amatus mean. WHAT DOES AMATUS MEAN.

any complex feelings on zara fully have to do with their feelings on illario, rather than zara herself.

How does your Rook feel about Illario’s betrayal?

illario's betrayal is DEEPLY personal to nero, and not even because they're personally offended or anything, but because they see their worst desires and impulses reflected in him, and they hate it. nero's greatest ambition has always been to become a talon, maybe even first talon. don't think about the contradiction between this and their love for viago - they sure don't!

they also have a bit of a history with him. they had a tumultuous on and off again relationship that mostly was just vapid hookups for a while before nero was temporarily exiled. but in that time they got uncomfortably close to seeing and understanding the ruthless ambition that lied at each other's core. that's probably all that existed at nero's core before veilguard, really. they're too lost in the facade of being a flirtatious, beautiful crow.

realizing what illario did to lucanis finally shatters their blind ambition, and another part of this is that nero's previously mentioned envy of lucanis. they're finally forced to confront the part of themself that also exists in illario, and to recognize that to become a talon, they'd probably have to destroy viago. and they don't want to.

How does your Rook feel about the Antaam? The Venatori?

THE CROWS RULE ANTIVA AND TREVISO WILL BE FREE

What does your Rook think of “The Crows rule Antiva and Treviso will be free.”?

so fucking true bestie. they start saying it too

Who ends up sacrificed fighting Ghilan’nain? How does your Rook deal with it?

harding, and they're devastated. nero loved harding, but never really understood her despite their best efforts. it's not until after her death when the truth about varric was revealed that they can finally figure out that harding was grieving. and they didn't know. and they must have seemed so callous and cruel.

Who ends up getting taken by Elgar’nan? How does your Rook deal with it?

bellara. they're relieved that it wasn't neve, and then feel disgusted with themself for thinking that. their first priority is getting bellara out, though.

What does your Rook do while in the Regret Prison? How long would it take them to get out?

the regret prison is what helps nero actually process their regrets and move past them, as opposed to their previous 'everything is fine and i shouldn't feel guilty about it' mindset.

the real core of their own regret prison is their relationship to the crows. they're forced to confront abandoning treviso and feeling like a traitor because of it. their own ambition takes center stage too, finally having to work through the cognitive dissonance of their dream to become talon vs their genuine love and attachment to viago.

it takes them a few weeks to get out, but the time they spend there feels absolutely incomprehensible. was it hours, days, months? even years? they don't know. the fade does that to you.

How does your Rook feel about Varric’s death?

they manage to hold it together until after the battle with elgar'nan, but afterwards, they go absolutely catatonic with grief. every time they think about him they're hit with another layer. it's not regret for what they could have done, but pain knowing he's not there. he hadn't been there for months. and solas didn't let them see. they never got to talk it out with harding....

another thing that really hurts is knowing varric will never know how far they've come. he chose them because he knew nero could've become a better person, and the cracks in their armor were beginning to start at the beginning of vg, but once they truly blossom into their own person, varric is gone.

Does your Rook choose to fight Solas, trick Solas, or redeem Solas? (Bonus if they used a romanced!Inquisitor to redeem Solas)

they trick solas and force him to admit he met his match <3 also the trick ending is good shut up. the fake dagger could've been introduced better but it's all about using solas' pride against him because he thinks he's already won

What does their life after Veilguard look like? Do they return to their normal life or move onto greater things?

after veilguard, nero manages to leverage their reputation in the crows to become eyes in minrathous. this is mostly to stay close to neve and assist her as the new leader of the threads, but viago allows this because having eyes in tevinter as the new archon ascends would be useful.

this also lets them do things their own way, which is probably the only way they'll be able to survive with their soul intact after the growth they went through during vg.

bonus because i think it should've been on here: nero made dorian archon.

rook: omg magister pavus are you really suggesting violent revolution!!!!

nero in reality:

#DAposting #nero de riva #worldstate tag

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sonkitty · 1 year ago

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The Sideburns Scheme #71

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 5, The Ball, Nina invitation

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are short. This invitation takes place outside the coffee shop. The sideburns are going to stay short until Crowley confronts Gabriel later.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

The more saturated red streak of hair can be found in some cuts.

...

Hairstyle Changes

The hairstyle looks mostly the same. I think the curls change during the scene itself, but the changes are subtle and difficult to describe.

Compared to the previous scene, there are tendrils curling on the right side of Crowley's head that might make bigger pockets. The scene itself is more interested in showing the right side of Crowley's head than the previous scene, so the area on top and front there is shown more too.

...

Red on Jacket

I found the red on Crowley's jacket this time.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects | The Ball Invitations Checklist)

Now we have reached the fifth ball invitation to be done on camera.

This particular invitation has a few unique things about it that might be related to how and why things happen the way they do.

For starters, I suspect that Crowley and Aziraphale aren't actually allowed in the coffee shop anymore, likely because Crowley tricked the coffee shop's threshold, the door, back in episode 1 as part of The Perfect Entrance Trick. Then he also did his lightning shot and recall that affected the door in episode 1.

So, I think they are making a scene to get noticed to begin with.

Not only that, all of the previous invitations have been with humans who were not shown as people Aziraphale and Crowley already spoke to in earlier episodes. Nina is an exception. They both talked to her in episode 1 while being customers at her coffee shop. Crowley talked to her, individually, in episode 2. Aziraphale didn't exactly talk to her so much as smile at her and react to her when she spoke to him in episode 4.

Given the situation, there's also them engaging in dialogue before the invitation starts with Nina entering the space where they are, instead of them entering the space where she is.

The Tied Hands probably retie during this conversation before the invitation has its official start. Crowley's right thumb joint lines up with his jacket while his index finger is slightly pointed. His watch is visible. A clasp strikes a lapel edge. In addition to such signs of retying, his left hand has its thumb visibly over his tie's left-most tassel. Then that tassel swings to the right, strikes a lapel edge, and swings back to the left for the most likely moment when a clasp strikes a lapel edge. During the invitation, Crowley's left thumb and index finger are visible before some portion of his left hand presumably goes into a pants pocket.

...

Let's check in with the checklist.

Once Aziraphale starts talking to Nina, he does all of the talking, of him and Crowley, up until just after the last cut with Aziraphale in the scene, as he is leaving. By that point, Nina has officially accepted the invitation.

Aziraphale talks to Crowley only before Nina addresses them and not after.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley before Nina arrives while they talk about Aziraphale speaking French and then once very briefly before he, Aziraphale himself, actually starts talking to Nina to invite her. When he starts to leave, his eyes do look toward Crowley, but he limits how much he turns his head as he is leaving.

So far as looking for Aziraphale with a possible illusionary touch over Crowley, the pen is visually over Crowley when Crowley starts to touch the post.

This invitation is in English. Aziraphale does not greet Nina with a Hello or question. He looks to be avoiding addressing Nina by name. He mouths some things after Nina accepts the invitation, but he does not verbally say anything.

...

Crowley talks to Aziraphale before Nina addresses them and even says, "What?" to Nina before Aziraphale looks at Crowley. After that, Crowley waits until Aziraphale is no longer on screen before he talks to Nina some more.

Crowley looks at Aziraphale to talk about Aziraphale speaking French before Nina shows up and then again while watching the invitation happen.

The main earthly object touch is Crowley placing his right hand on the post though he carefully slides his fingers down so that they are touching a different part of the post than his palm and thumb.

For the self-clothing touch, my guess is it's the left hand going into his pocket with the index finger and thumb visible. As an earthly object for support, it might be the visual pen over him or whatever trickery he's up to with that post.

For the self-skin-contact touch, Crowley is blurry with a human somewhere further behind him using a pocket. With a glance down, Crowley's right jawline touches part of his neck. That happens as he has an active pants pocket touch, as does the human behind him.

The self-mouth-touch is Crowley opening his mouth before touching the post and then closing his mouth as he is touching the post.

For pockets, there is, of course, the left pants pocket touch he makes. He makes pockets with his arms and his hair too, during the invitation.

The cross is the legs by the post where moves his right leg forward to cross it past the left leg as the legs are next to each other.

Crowley's reflection cannot be found during Nina's invitation, but I can at least point out various things about its lacking presence. Nina's reflection is found multiple times because her reflection is in the window pane. Crowley is touching a reflective surface. Back in episode 1, his reflection was on the window pane to the door of the coffee shop, and he touched that reflection back then as part of The Perfect Entrance Trick.

There's the already mentioned context of him having interacted with Nina during the course of the season whereas that is not the case with other humans who were invited.

For a shadow, there is possibly some shadow with his hand on the post, but otherwise, he is blurry and has some shadow on the ground when Nina talks to him as Aziraphale is leaving. He also had a visible shadow over Aziraphale before Nina arrived when he was talking to Aziraphale.

Light can be found in Crowley's sunglasses when he is visibly touching the post and pocketing his left hand. Additionally, if you look closely enough, you'll find Aziraphale is reflected in his sunglasses more than once. Nina might show up in there too, after Aziraphale leaves.

...

Aziraphale and Crowley talk to each other but only up until Nina speaks to them.

They are looking at each other before and even as Nina arrives. After that, it's easy to miss Aziraphale making sure to get a look at Crowley just after Nina speaks and before Aziraphale himself starts speaking. Crowley looks at Aziraphale for most of the scene, before and after Nina arrives.

They have a "correct" sides view at the start of the scene before Nina arrives. Crowley is to Aziraphale's left. He walks behind Aziraphale and places himself on the "wrong" side as he ends up on Aziraphale's right while his Tied Hands retie.

They are on the "wrong" sides for almost the rest of the scene.

Then for the "correct" sides view during the invitation, if I'm reading and playing the game right, there's some pocket and reflection trickery to remind us to pay attention to the pockets. Aziraphale moves past Crowley as he steps forward to address Nina. When that happens, Crowley is on the camera's right with Aziraphale on the camera's left. If Aziraphale were facing the camera, Crowley would be on Aziraphale's left. The moment is incredibly brief, and Aziraphale's actual head isn't even on screen.

There is a human directly behind Crowley when this part happens, and that human is partly in a right sleeve pocket Crowley is making. That also puts Crowley in a pocket between Aziraphale and this human. There's a car behind Crowley and to that human's right

If a lighter color reflected in that car is supposed to be Aziraphale's reflection, which I think is what the game in the story is trying to communicate, then that's how Crowley could end up to Aziraphale's "left". He is to Aziraphale's reflection's left.

And if the reflection isn't the thing, then humans and pockets are still probably accomplishing it. They keep happening, and the game is taking the time and effort to make this cut be here.

I think Crowley and Aziraphale are switching their sides on purpose.

This invitation has them going their separate ways. Aziraphale is walking forward toward the camera when he leaves as Nina talks to Crowley some more. After that conversation ends, Crowley turns around and walks away from the camera.

...

This ball invitation is a match to The Pocket Trick. Crowley touches his left pants pocket, and this pants pocket touch is not part of the touches for The Pocket Trick itself. It notably uses Crowley's left hand and left pocket. Generally, his other present day pocket touches that are not in The Pocket Trick involve the right pants pocket or both pockets.

...

Story Commentary

I assume Crowley's reaction to Nina is genuine, but I'm not clear on why or how with the layers and awareness of the game.

As best I can tell from the touches and the patterns within this silly little game as part of the bigger games, Crowley and Aziraphale have been doing these ball invitations the way they have on purpose. Their play looks plenty aware in the earlier invitations.

They were trying to be seen as together. They know they are a couple. They are having the humans see them as a couple.

Nina says she is enjoying the show, which is exactly what they were doing. They were putting on a show for Nina.

I also think, quite firmly, Crowley knows he loves Aziraphale. He just went through that whole process with the homes being connected, including a talk to Muriel about humans being in love just as he was passing over the car keys.

So, given all of that, why is it suddenly like his awareness of his play lowered?

Is there a switch? Is there a self-select memory thing happening here where Crowley makes himself forget that's what he was doing? Crowley has no earthly object touch, and Aziraphale's gone with his earthly object touches.

Aziraphale did look nervous as he was leaving and was still on screen when Nina started talking to Crowley. It was like he knew something was about to happen. He had to leave Crowley on his own and let it happen.

Sure, it could be that Crowley's that good of an actor, but I think it is something more like my other speculative questions.

I don't think season 3 will explain this one, but I would certainly appreciate it if that were the case.

Regardless of the why or how, this scene helps set up the context for the third face touch to the sunglasses for Crowley in his upcoming invitation scene. The past two face touches had made sure the word "human" was in the dialogue during the scene such touches happened. This time, the story is establishing that Nina sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a human couple before the upcoming scene instead.

That actually might be why Crowley says, "I know," the way he does. He's using the term "angel" with the hope and intent of getting away with its double meaning that he tends to use anyway, while trying to pass as part of a human couple. As in, he is referencing the supernatural being that is an angel, he knows. He's used it before with humans assuming he's a human referencing another as a term of affection.

So, "angel" was used for Aziraphale instead of "human" by Crowley to refer to himself as he did in episodes 1 and 3. In episode 3, the context was a shared one with both Muriel and Aziraphale since Crowley said, "Well, we, humans of Earth..."

For this scene, it looks like the "angel" wording is allowed for the context since that face touch on the sunglasses is still going to be in the next Crowley scene.

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Crowley has an implied right pants pocket touch as he leaves. When did he pocket his right hand? What strategy is involved there with this sneaky snake? Is there a strategy? His play generally suggests that to be the case, especially when pants pockets are involved. My current best guess it's managing the status of his Tied Hands, especially with him showing his back to the camera.

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That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

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#crowley #david tennant #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens theories #good omens speculation

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kevinsreviewcatalogue · 1 year ago

Text

Review: Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

Rated PG-13 for violent content, bloody images, sexual material, language, sexual assault, teen drinking and drug content

Score: 3 out of 5

Lisa Frankenstein is a vibes movie. Despite having been heavily marketed on the fact that it was written by Diablo Cody, the writer of Jennifer's Body (who has said that the two films take place in the same universe), her screenplay is actually one of the film's weak links, falling apart in the third act as the plot starts to get weird and disjointed in a way that left me wondering just how many scenes got rewritten or left on the cutting room floor. No, it's the cast and director Zelda Williams (daughter of Robin) who put this movie over the top, crafting a film that feels like if a young Tim Burton directed Weird Science in the best possible way. (In the interview with Cody that the Alamo Drafthouse showed before the film, she cited both Weird Science and Edward Scissorhands as inspirations, alongside Bride of Frankenstein and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and I'm not surprised.) It's at its best as a pure comedy, one that sends up its nostalgic '80s setting to the point of farce and pushes the PG-13 rating as far as it can go. I'm not surprised that, much like Jennifer's Body did in its initial run, this movie failed to find its audience in theaters (though releasing it on Super Bowl weekend probably didn't help), but while I don't think it'll be treated as an outright classic in ten years' time, I do believe it'll follow a very similar trajectory of being rediscovered on home video and streaming.

Set in suburban Illinois in 1989, our protagonist is Lisa Swallows, a teenage girl who's been moody and morose ever since her mom was killed by an axe murderer two years ago, followed by her father Dale remarrying the obnoxious jackass Janet and thus gaining a stepsister in the cheerleader Taffy. She likes to hang out at the old cemetery, where, one night after going to a party where she accidentally takes hallucinogens and subsequently gets sexually harassed, she runs off and tells one of the men buried there that she wishes she was "with him" (i.e. dead). Something must've been miscommunicated, because that night, that grave is struck by lightning and its occupant rises from the dead, trying to find Lisa and be with her. Lisa is initially horrified, but soon realizes that, beneath this creature's rotten exterior, there's actually a romantic soul who longs to be human again. And after tragedy strikes, Lisa decides to find a way to make her new boyfriend's dream a reality... no matter who gets in her way.

The first two acts of this film felt like they were building to something very interesting. The thing about the best takes on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, not least of all the 1931 Universal classic, is that they recognize that the real "monster" is in fact Dr. Frankenstein himself, the creature's creator, and this film leans heavily in that direction with its depiction of Lisa. She eagerly starts killing people in order to build the perfect boyfriend, getting sucked into darkness as she's blinded by love, and Kathryn Newton completely steals the show playing her, starting the film as a dowdy, depressed dweeb but eventually developing a gothic fashion sense and, with it, a catty diva-like attitude while channeling a young Winona Ryder in both Beetlejuice and Heathers. There were many places that this film could've gone, most of them involving Lisa becoming a full-bore villain while Taffy suddenly finds herself in her stepsister's path, with the creature either serving as Lisa's partner in crime from start to finish or perhaps slowly gaining a sense of morality as he becomes more "human" and realizing that Lisa is evil. All the while, the Frankenstein metaphor becomes one about somebody who'd do anything for love, including that, and loses herself in the process. And at times, it seemed to be going in that direction, especially as Taffy grows increasingly traumatized over the course of the film.

Unfortunately, whether it was the PG-13 rating or a desire to make Lisa more sympathetic (and Taffy less so), the film won't commit to the bit. Lisa's characterization does a near-total 180 in the third act as the film asks us to side with her as, at the very least, a sympathetic anti-villain with good intentions. Lisa should've been the bad guy that the film was building her up as, no ifs, ands, or buts -- a sympathetic and compelling one like Jennifer Check, but still somebody who crossed the line miles ago and never looked back. It would've given Liza Soberano, who plays Taffy and will probably be the breakout star of this film, more to do instead of making her a supporting player in Lisa's story who plays only a minor role in the third act. Instead, it felt like I was watching a whole new character entirely that just so happened to share Lisa's name and face. I highly suspect that there's a lot of alternate material here, either in earlier drafts of the screenplay or deleted scenes, because the sudden tonal shift in the third act feels like a product of a completely different movie.

What saved this film in the end were the style and the humor. Much like Karyn Kusama on Jennifer's Body, Zelda Williams imbues this film with a ton of gothic flair, Lisa's outfits being just the start of it, inspired by Tim Burton and, by extension, the German expressionism that he in turn drew from. The bright pink suburban house that Lisa and her family live in is almost cartoonish, and draws a sharp contrast to the world around it. The moment we're introduced to Carla Gugino as Lisa's stepmother, a hilariously over-the-top parody of an '80s suburban mom who needlessly antagonizes Lisa every chance she gets, and Joe Chrest as her spectacularly inattentive father who looks the part of a wholesome suburban dad but otherwise can't be bothered to look up from his newspaper, we see exactly the kind of people who'd happily live in a house like that. There are multiple animated sequences that liven up the film throughout, most notably the prologue/opening credits showing us the creature's backstory in life. The soundtrack is filled with great retro '80s needle drops, especially once the creature regains the use of his hands and can play the piano again. Cole Sprouse as the creature had no dialogue barring grunts, moans, and screams, but he still made for a compelling presence on screen as the other half of the film's central romance, proving that seven years on Riverdale was a waste of a lot of young actors' talents. This was Williams' first feature film, and if this is indicative of her skill behind the camera, I can see her going far. And most importantly, this movie is hysterical. The entire theater was laughing throughout, and I was right there with them. There are jokes about everything from "back massagers" to the creature's physical decay, and more broadly, its campy gothic tone is played far more for laughs than frights, most notably in one death scene that would be the most brutal in the film on the face of it but is instead one of the most hilarious scenes in it as the film shows us just enough to let us know exactly what happened and wince while still remaining PG-13. Cody's grasp of storytelling may have been shaky here, but her knack for getting me to laugh my ass off remains fully intact.

The Bottom Line

Lisa Frankenstein should've had more care put into its screenplay, especially once act three comes around, but it's still a very funny and watchable movie that, much like Jennifer's Body, I can see enduring as a cult classic. If you're not into the Big Game, check it out.

#lisa frankenstein #2024 #2024 movies #horror #horror movies #comedy #comedy movies #horror comedy #frankenstein #monster movie #80s nostalgia #diablo cody #zelda williams #kathryn newton #cole sprouse #liza soberano #carla gugino

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