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plaidstiel-wormstache · 2 years

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Midnight Secrets and Pinky Promises

Steve Harrington, reader. Fourteen years of friendship and you can still surprise each other, still confess secrets, and still make promises. Kissing, sarcasm, partly canon for S1 Stranger Things. 2k words

Steve came back to the bathroom with an ice pack and clean cloth in hand, only to freeze in the doorway. You were facing the mirror, eyes fixed on your bare stomach; the soft skin marred by a dark bruise and a hefty graze over your ribs. Your white bra now grimy and ripped along the ridge of a seam at the swell of your breast, drew his eye. He’d not seen you this bare since you were fourteen. Well no, he’d seen you at the pool just last summer, but there was something about a swimsuit lost in the expanse of bodies that didn’t whisper intimate like this did. He watched as you delicately wiped at the graze with the damp washcloth, breath catching as the cool wet seeped into the heat of the torn skin, stinging slightly. Steve cleared his throat and offered the ice pack and cloth, “Here,” he said, “You’re gonna need antiseptic on that,” he added, reaching over you to open the mirror and retrieved a brown bottle and a packet of bandages. You turned, back to the mirror, butt pushed to the vanity, and dropped the washcloth somewhere behind you onto the bench along with the icepack he’d put down. He swished the bottle up and down with the clean cloth over the top of it, then looked up to your eyes as his other hand reached for your back, fingers gentle as they spread across your waist. His touch was ice cold from holding the pack, sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps spread out over your too hot skin but you wouldn’t ask him to stop. It felt right. It felt loving and kind and just what you needed after being dragged across the Byers’ broken living room floor.

You trusted Steve. You had since before you could remember, and now wasn’t going to change. Maybe just what you were willing to entrust to him would. “This is going to sting,” he warned, voice quiet as if whispering would make it hurt less. “I’m a big girl, I can take it,” you said, watching him through your eyelashes. And maybe you didn’t mean for it to come out flirty, but you weren’t sure you minded when he blinked slow, the tips of his ears reddening, mind reeling at the double meaning. He pushed the antiseptic into the graze and any heated emotion flew out the door; white hot lights burnt the insides of your eyelids as an electric zap sizzled up your ribs and out across your body. Your back rounded, trying to get away from the touch, but he followed, his hand at your back holding you tight as he dabbed once, twice more, before quickly retreating. “It’s done. It’s done,” he hushed, dropping the washcloth into the basin behind you as he retrieved a bandage from the packet and began to open it. The grimace slowly fell from your face as Steve began to smooth the sticky edge of the bandage over your ribs, hand featherlight on your skin, his concern for you overwhelming. You watched his face as he frowned down at the bruise, made more prominent by the raise of your ribcage. There was something new, something different in the air between the both of you. Maybe it was the shared knowledge of a hellish landscape and monsters that didn’t stay under beds. Maybe it was surviving them together that was drawing you closer. But when Steve’s fingertips brushed carefully over your ribs you whispered his name and his eyes fluttered shut before opening to meet yours, lips parted. Steve felt needed and wanted. He felt strong and capable yet vulnerable and dependent under your gaze and it confused him. Confused him in a way that only one other ever had. “Does that hurt?” He whispered, trying to fill the limited space between you with something other than tension. You nodded, a slight hum that made your lips pout before your tongue darted out to lick them, making them shine under the warm light of the en-suite bathroom. “Sorry,” he muttered, withdrawing his fingers from your skin as he glanced back down at the angry pink and violet splodge. “Maybe you could-“ you began, bravery had washed over you in a wave, but just as quickly it retreated, trying to sink back into the ocean of unsaid hopes. But his eyes, his eyes were desperate, drawing the next wave forward as if he was the moon to your tide. “Kiss it better?” You breathed, barely audible as your eyes remained locked, watching each other for any sign of fear, any sign that this was one straw too many for your ever-enduring friendship. But the flick of his tongue, peeking out to wet his bottom lip was your first answer. Your skin bristled and warmed in anticipation of the next and you didn’t have to wait long as he leaned down. His eyes roamed from yours, to your lips, to the bruise, and quickly he dipped his head, past your awaiting mouth and down to your stomach, brushing his lips to the bandage. You scoffed, a dejected noise that tried to bury the blunt knock of rejection for a later time, for when you were alone in the dark of night. Later when you could take it out and stare at it from all angles until you were well acquainted with it. Steve looked up from your stomach, catching the glimmer of disappointment in your eyes before it disappeared behind a blink, and he wanted to chase it out, to fetch it and rid it from whatever depth it sunk to inside you. So he stood, slowly, eyes finding yours once more, but now he was closer, and your mouth was parted in wonder. “Better?” He asked, prompting, prodding, hoping for that faint blur of the line, the one that glared at him, that ever present threat to long years of friendship. But you seemed to hear it, see it, and you slowly, barely, shook your head, eyes alight with devilish intent. Just the way he hoped. He leaned in, sealing his lips to yours. Warm and soft, his lips moulded to yours, his nose pushed into your cheek. He tasted like honey and stale gum and something slightly metallic. His lips coaxing yours to open as his hand smoothed over your bare back. You reached for him, hands pressed to his chest, hard and solid under your fingers. Then he licked into you and suddenly you both pulled back, Steve stepping back to the wall behind him, your eyes anywhere but each other’s, noses scrunched as your skin crawled. “That was-“ You began, trying, like he had before, to fill the awkward tension between you. “Yeah, no, can we not talk about that?” He asked, cutting you off, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “Ever.” you suggested. “Ever.” He agreed. “Great,” you added with a definite nod, smoothing a hand over the bandage at your ribs. But the memory of his lips having been there seconds earlier made you snort and his look turned accusatory which made you snort again. “What?” He asked, and the indignant tone made you laugh properly. It was no use trying to hide behind your hands, even though you tried, as laughter took hold and made your body ache worse than it did before. Steve watched on, horrified that his best friend was laughing hysterically after he’d kissed you … he’d kissed you… he couldn’t help but laugh as well. He’d kissed you. You’d kissed back. And it felt so wrong!

After a minutes worth of laughter, followed by a hiss of pain that made you both come back to reality, you shared a displeased look. “Sorry,” you offered, a hand on your stomach again as the ache flared in your ribs. “You-“ he looked confused again, “I’m sorry,” he amended, shaking his head and stepping forward again, picking up the ice pack and handing it to you. You gave him a thankful smile and took it from him, pressing the cold pack to your ribs and squinting as you braced against it. “I’ll find you a clean shirt,” he offered as he turned around to give you a moment. “Hey Steve?” You asked, following him, ignoring the small and silent offer. He glanced over his shoulder as he reached his dresser. “Can you kiss it better?” You teased, laughing when he made a wretching noise. He fetched out the oversized shirt and turned back to you, another shimmer of vulnerability hidden deep in his eyes as he swiped his spare hand over the back of his neck. “Friends, right?” he asked, seeking honesty. “Just friends,” You answered, giving him a smile that ended his inner torment. He gave you the shirt, like an extended olive branch, or a broom that you’d use to sweep away any awkwardness. “So, spare room?” You asked, gesturing towards the door of his bedroom and the hall beyond. He frowned, affronted. “Don’t be stupid,” And like that, your friendship was reset. Back to before the weird moment in the bathroom. Back to before the impending doom you faced together. Back to before that terrifying moment of thinking you may have to live without your best friend. Back to before.

Laying in bed, showered and fresh, you stared at the ceiling replaying the night’s events; driving him to Johnathon Byers’s house cause he couldn’t, so riddled with emotion of all kinds and none good for sitting behind the wheel. Preparing to console your best friend after he confronted Nancy, only to get part way up the road and him beg you to turn back. He needed to say one last thing. Yet that one last thing was interrupted. And when Steve didn’t come back from inside the house, you went in after him, racing in when you heard him yell. It was a hair raising noise that had you barreling through the door and into the scene from The Howling. A demon from another dimension cornering Steve, a scream coming from both. You didn’t think as you ripped the axe from Johnathon’s hands and swung, planting it into the creatures back. It had roared louder, a piercing cry. Then things went foggy as the world spun and you were suddenly on the ground being dragged along the floor and over the broken coffee table and shattered Christmas lights. Your ankle in the grasp of god knows what. Then you were dropped and being helped to your feet by Nancy, your eyes searching for Steve, praying your best friend, your lifeline, was safe. And he was, standing over the body of the dead creature, chest heaving, eyes locked on yours.

“You still awake?” Steve asked quietly, head lolling to the side to look at you. You looked over at him, rolling onto your shoulder, bringing your knees up. “Can’t stop thinking about tonight,” he confessed, also rolling onto his side. “I keep seeing that creature,” You said, voice soft as if there was anyone to wake up. “I keep seeing you being dragged across the floor,” he said, voice just as soft. That kind of soft that was reserved for secrets shared in the night, across the tops of pillows, between best friends. “I keep seeing you cornered by it,” you confessed, eyes glassy. Steve closed his eyes, the muscles of his jaw rippled. There was a quiet minute. Shallow breaths the only noise between you. your eyes roamed his face as his flitted underneath their lids. “Your eyes,” he finally breathed, opening his, but they didn’t meet yours. They stared down at the blankets. You unclasped your hands from under your pillow and reached forward, tucking your forefinger under his chin. His eyes found yours, they were glassy, harrowed, his brow was pulled in, casting a shadow over his gaze. You gave him a weak and pleading smile and his gaze softened immeasurably, your hand at his chin fell to his pillow and he found it, pushing his fingers between yours. “I can hear your scream,” it was almost inaudible but he heard it and squeezed your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m not,” you whispered back, chuckling when he frowned at you. You retrieved your hand and tucked it back under your face, “If I hadn’t heard you yell, I wouldn’t have come in,” your voice louder now, after all, there wasn’t anyone to wake up. “I had that thing!” Steve scoffed loudly. “I’m sure you did,” you said, “But I couldn’t let you have all the fun,” He laughed then, a sorry noise as he rolled onto his back and ran his hands through his hair. You followed suit, rolling onto your own back and staring at the ceiling again, the all too familiar white paint, rippled with moonlight reflected from the pool below his window. This time you were the one to break the silence. “Can you not do that again?” “What, kiss you?” He asked, tone teasing and light. You groaned, head rolling to look at him, his hands were still in his hair, elbows still pointed up, palms resting on his forehead. “Steve?” you rolled over again, jostling the bed and him. He shifted his head under his hands, looking at you from the corners of his eyes, then once more he shifted onto his side. “Promise,” he whispered in that bed quiet voice. The one that was saved for serious conversations that only happened in bedrooms when the clock read well-past midnight. You nodded and smiled, but it faded when he opened his mouth again. “As long as you don’t, either?” You promised him that easily and quickly, smiling bright when he offered his pinky between your faces. You wrapped yours around his and held it, another promise shared between best friends in the dead of night. You wondered how many this would be now. Fourteen years of friendship; countless nights just like this. Countless secrets over pillows. Countless promises sealed with pinkies.

*****

@upsidedownwithsteve @ladymercury8 @spideystevie @pillow-titties @staygoldwriting @maitaro @hellfirexclub @sharpsapphic666 @scarlet-star-witch @deepett

#steve harrington #stranger things fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #original fic #sorry for the tag but I hope you like it

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

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A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 3

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don’t know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury

***I legitimately teared up while writing this. This...This is heavy folks. Please remember to take care of yourselves before, during, and after reading this fic. Be safe lovelies ❤ -B ***

Part 1: HERE, Part 2: HERE, Part 4: HERE

The day had passed by agonizingly slow. The brothers really had no choice but to follow Solomon's orders, so they waited. With every second they could feel the invisible hands grasping their hearts squeeze tighter and tighter.

None of them had left the living room where they had gathered. They were all too frightened that an update on your condition would come in and they wouldn't be there to receive it. At least that's what was silently agreed upon. In reality, they were each taking comfort in being with the only people that could possibly understand what the other was going through.

No one knew what to do or say. There really was nothing to do or say. They had promised to always protect you, and because of a foolish argument, they had failed that in the worst way possible. Finally, after nearly twelve hours of radio silence, Asmodeus's D.D.D. dinged.

Asmodeus had never taken his phone out so quickly before. "Simeon and I are awake. MC is still unconscious. We will let you in and try to get you to see MC. Luke is still adamant about not letting you all in, so be ready for him," Asmo read out loud. Satan huffed as he started towards the door. "I don't care who Luke thinks he is, he's not stopping us from seeing our partner. Let's go."

*** As they arrived at the Hall, all of them were shocked to see a trail of now dried blood leading to the doorway. No matter how long it had been there, the scent still made it glaringly obvious that it was yours. Asmodeus gagged and turned his head away from the sight. "If it's already this bad out here, what are we going to be walking into?" He managed to choke out.

Lucifer swallowed down the lump in his throat and marched ahead. "It doesn't matter. Right now, MC needs us. We failed to be there for them earlier, I refuse to do so again." The eldest lead the charge to the front door of Purgatory Hall. He raised his fist to knock when several voices started shouting from the other side. "You never should've called them here!" "Luke, that's not for you to decide. They're-" "I don't care who they are!!!"

The door suddenly was thrown open just enough to reveal Luke.

You would think that the small angel was the Avatar of Wrath and not Satan. He glared at them with all the fury of the Celestial army. His face was red and his teeth were bared in a snarl. Despite all this anger, however, his eyes were still tinged red with tears.

"Leave now! You're not welcome here!" he barked before going to slam the door; Beel quickly caught it with his hand. "We're not leaving until we see MC." A growl that they had never thought they would hear from sweet little Luke, vibrated from deep within his chest before he began throwing himself at the door, clearly doing everything he could to try and close it.

"NO!!! You don't deserve to see them! You monsters are the reason they're like this! GET OUT! LEAVE!!" Simeon suddenly appeared from within the Hall and pulled Luke against his chest. "Luke, stop it! You're going to hurt yourself!" The young angel screamed and struggled as Simeon softly shushed him. It wasn't long before the screams turned into sobs and Luke broke down in Simeon's arms. The brothers didn't know how to react. Was the state you were in truly so bad to merit such an emotional response from Luke? Dread began to grow more and more within them as guilt kept them frozen in place.

The older angel sighed and gently began to rub Luke's back, before looking at the brothers with an emotionless expression. "As you can see, Luke is greatly concerned with MC's well-being, as we all are," he tightened his hold on Luke before he continued. "You may see them-" "WHA- Simeon, no!!!" Simeon gently shushed him and ran a hand through Luke's hair. "I know. I know you don't want them to, Luke, but they love MC just like you do. At the very least, we should let them see the results of their negligence, don't you think?" The lords winced at the jab and the harsh edges on Simeon's words. It was clear that no one in that house truly wanted them there. Luke pouted. "Fine. But I want to be in the room when they do." Simeon nodded and released the young angel. "Of course. I'm sure MC will be grateful for how attentive you've been to them when they wake up." He ruffled Luke's hair before glancing at the brothers once again. "Follow me." Their footsteps echoed through the quiet halls like a death knell. Each one rang louder and louder in the ears of the worried demons. They hadn't even seen you yet, and even so, each and every one of them were already beginning to wonder how they could ever let this happen to you. Images of you might look like flashed inside their heads. Perhaps you would resemble a mummy from the number of bandages required to heal you. Perhaps you would resemble a corpse, half-dead as you struggled to keep your heartbeat steady. No matter what they imagined, however, nothing prepared them for the real thing. Simeon swung open the doors to the lounge without any word or warning. The brothers' stumbled to a stop and collectively choked at the sight. You were laid out on the table in the middle of the room. Gauze covered a large section of the left side of your cheek and a strip around the circumference of your head. What little skin was visible was sunken in, making you appear dead. If it hadn't been for the shallow rising and falling of your chest, the brothers most certainly would have believed you were. Solomon had been in the process of checking the bandages on your shoulder when they entered, giving each of them a good eye full of the deep bite marks that covered your shoulder, collarbone and neck. There was so much red, that they could barely make out what was an injury and what wasn't. With a nauseous thought, they realized that small chunks of skin had even been torn from the flesh. They must have had to remove your clothes at some point during your healing process, for the only thing that covered you was a thin blanket that was trapped over your torso. All, except Satan, recognized it as one of the blankets from the Celestial realm. Though Satan had put two and two together when he spotted the small tag hanging from a corner with Luke's name written on it in golden cursive. The fact that you were barely covered meant that they could clearly see your bandaged thighs and the small, bandaged, stump of where your leg had been cut off from the knee down. The silence was cut off by a strangled sob from Asmodeus.

Solomon's head snapped as he only now noticed everyone. Rather than moving comfort the demon whom he's had a pact with for centuries, Solomon only narrowed his eyes into a glare and silently went back to work.

Asmodeus moved towards you, shakily reaching out a hand to touch. But he was stopped as Luke quickly slapped the hand away. The angel starred icily at him. "They're still recovering, you idiot. Touch them with your filthy infernal hands and you could infect and kill them."

Asmodeus snarled through his tears, and opened his mouth to shout at Luke, but was stopped when a hand sat on his shoulder. He glanced over to see Satan shaking his head as tears ran down his cheeks.

"He's right," Satan whispered, not bothering to hide the pain in his tone. "They're in an extremely fragile state. We should all, at the very least, wash our hands first." the others looked at him surprised. There wasn't a trace of anger in his voice. Only grief and regret. Satan looked over at Solomon, "Then I'm sure we'd all like to sit with them?"

The others held their breath as they waited for the reply, but Solomon simply remained silent and refused to acknowledge them. "Please," Beelzebub begged through a sob. Belphie held on tightly to his twin's hand. It may have looked as though he had down it to comfort Beel, but in reality, that hand was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Beel took in a stuttered breath before continuing, "W-We messed up last night, and we can't t-take that back, but I-I need to be with them right now. Please. I-I can't leave them again." Again there was only silence, with the exception of Luke grumbling under his breath from where he sat beside you. Mammon huffed and moved towards the basin of water that had been set up on a side table. "Well I'm done waiting for permission," he thoroughly washed his hands and moved towards MC when Simeon moved in front of him. Mammon growled and had to keep himself from bursting into his demon form. "What's the big deal?! You said we could see 'em!" "I said see. Not touch," the angel provided pointedly. Leviathan frowned and came to Mammon's side. "Luke is literally holding their hand right now! He cleaned his hands! There's no reason why Luke should be able to touch them, when we, their significant others can't!" Luke's nostrils flared as he went to lunge at the demon, but was stopped by Solomon putting a hand on his shoulder. The young angel huffed and settled for snarling at them. "I was the one that saved them! I was the one that washed the blood off of their skin after Simeon and Solomon both nearly collapsed from exhaustion after working for four hours straight on keeping them alive. I was there for them! And you weren't!" "We messed up!" Leviathan screamed back, his demon form bursting into existence as he cried. "We messed up and we want to make things better! We want to be there for them now! You can't just keep us from them!" "Leviathan," Lucifer placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Breathe. Please, I know you're upset. We all are. But we shouldn't forget what caused all of this in the first place." Leviathan ripped himself away from Lucifer's grasp and turned away from everyone. The occasional sob could be heard from him as his shoulders trembled. Lucifer sighed and looked pleadingly at Simeon. "Simeon, please. I know you owe us nothing and that MC may not even want to see them when they awake. But look at them. They're-" he cut himself off as his voice cracked and took a deep breath, "We're a mess. Please, just let us have a moment with them. That's all I ask." For the first time, Simeon's expression softened. He gathered up Luke and nodded at Solomon. The wizard pursed his lips in annoyance and glanced at the brothers once more before leaving the room. Simeon gave Lucifer a hard look as he held on tightly to Luke. "You will notify us immediately should even the slightest thing change from their current condition." Luke gaped at his fellow angel. "Simeon! No! We can't just leave them with those demons! Are you insane?" Simeon gave Luke a small smile. "They won't hurt them. I truly believe they wish to reconcile things and apologize for their words and actions. No matter how upset you may feel, this isn't our relationship Luke. It is not our place to meddle. MC will be safe with them." Luke grumbled under his breath and glowered at the brothers. "If so much as a hair is out of place when I get back, not even Micheal will be able to stop me from the vengeance I will inflict upon you." Mammon opened his mouth make a comeback, but was cut off by Lucifer. "Understood. Thank you for looking after our beloved in our absence." Luke scoffed and shook his head, before leaving with Simeon following behind him. The brothers stood in the room alone. They were with you, and yet they had never felt so far from you. ***To be continued in part 4! Still don't quite know how this will end, but it's bound to hurt. Sorry not sorry. In between uploading parts of this series, I will be doing other fics as well, just since this seems to be quite longer than I

had originally thought 😅 Thank you all for supporting this series! I hope you enjoyed it. Remember to drink water and take care of yourselves! I love you all!***

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bokettochild · 3 years

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About Legend having insane leg strenght: what if the reason he never brags about that is because he's embarassed about it? He thinks that pulverizing a boulder with a kick is either something everyone can do or too similar to a bunny. One day he and Four get dumped into a monster camp without their items or weapons and Legend takes desperate measures to ensure they don't die: anihilating the entire camp with only his legs. He is unironically and literally capable of killing someone with his /1

This ask references this post btw, so, check it out if you need context!

Honestly, I loved this so much! THANK YOU!!! But I am half asleep, so the cool stuff I saw in my head is being stinky and not comng out. I'm sorry, hope you like my half-asleep drabbl of Legend being weak as shit while simultaneously having the strongest kick out of the whole Chain XD

Legend hates being at Ordon.

It’s not that he hates the people; he’s used to country folk, he was raised around them, heck, his grandparents have the same strong twang in their voices that everyone in Twi’s village does! He loves the fresh air and the sounds of animals and the sight of growing things everywhere he looks.

But he hates looking around and seeing Twilight’s entire village (even the freaking kids!) wander around lifting things that probably equal his entire body weight!

Seriously, Malo (that was the terrifying toddler’s name, right? That’s what Twilight said when he introduced them all, right?) could lift up a small goat with ease, and he was an actual toddler!

What was Uli feeding her children that they turned out this strong? Were all the village women using it? How on earth was every person in all of Ordon fully capable of throwing Legend over their shoulder?

It hadn’t happened yet, but Legend was on guard because it was only so much time before someone figured out it was possible, and it wasn’t as if he could fight them off.

He wasn’t jealous, definitely not. Not even when he saw Twilight carrying a mother goat across the village with an easy stride as he brought the nanny back to her pen. When he buried his face in his arms and sighed it wasn’t because he was remembering how much he had to tug and pull to move a basket of apples, no, it was just because the mere thought of carrying goats for the foreseeable future made him tired. Definitely.

But this strength was just an Ordon thing, right? It was totally just something that was common in Ordon, and Legend took comfort in that as he sat on the front porch of Uli and Rusl’s house and helped with the mending.

Even their blankets were heavy, what the heck?

But then Sky walked past.

And Sky was carrying a barrel, an entire barrel. One that swished and clunked with the sounds of grain filling it, and if the small trail of spilled seed that followed after the hero meant anything, then that thing was full.

Okay, so Skyloftians were strong too, no big deal.

Big deal.

Their entire visit to Ordon, helping to hide away animals and supplies before a local monster band stole them, was spent with Legend trying desperately to not be jealous as he watched everyone from Wind to Time lift and carry things that he couldn’t even knock over if he pushed against them.

It wasn’t even that most of thing things were heavy, it was just... he was weak.

Uli’s gaze when she’d figured out the truth had been surprised, eyes blown wide with shock as she watched as Legend, who’d opted to help indoors since he knew working outside would lead to him being more a burden than an aid, struggled to lift buckets of water to fill the wash basin. Dark brown eyes had followed him as he’s left the bucket outdoors and stomped inside, hissing and wheezing under his breath as he moved his attention to his bag and grabbed one of his power bracelets.

“Hun,” Uli’s soft country twang caught his attention as the woman drew close, concern filling her warm gaze. “Are ya’ feelin’ alright?”

And reputation or no, Legend’s Gran would have his hide on a hitching-post if he even so much as dropped his manners. There was something about country folk that was so inherently polite and welcoming, that even the salty vet couldn’t help but return with the same manners that his Gran had pounded into his head since childhood.

“Yes, ma’am.” Crimson trailed up his neck to blossom across his cheeks and shoot up his ears. He tried to ignore that Uli had a baby on one hip and a bushel of food on the other, breath contained and relaxes as she stood there, no hint of strain in her face or body language. His fingers trailed along the clasp of his power bracelet, shame building inside as he shuffled his feet.

You just can’t walk away when lady’s talking to you, especially if she’s being all polite like and just makin’ sure you’re okay.

“Are you injured?” The farm-wife pressed. “You were huffy something huge with that there bucket.”

And Legend would like nothing more than to sink into the earth as he glances over the full bucket of water that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t lift. “I’m just not much of a farm-hand is all, ma’am. I’ll be right as rain in a tick, just needed to grab something I forgot.”

And while the look Uli gives him is a bright smile, he knows worry when he sees it peeking out of someone’s gaze. He tries to ignore that, instead turning back to the chores he’d been assigned and trying his hardest to ignore ethe fact that no one else was wearing power bracelets when they all came back for dinner that evening.

He’s not strong. So what? He can lift his sword well enough, and he can do most other things too when he wears the power bracelets.

Yes, he knows that Ravio warned him about not developing muscles if he relied on objects so much, but he’s never had time to work out or build any muscle mass, so when he needs it it’s a bit more important to just get his work done rather than hope he’ll develop it. He’s paying for that, and he knows it, but he can’t really help that he doesn’t have the time or space to really do anything about it.

Oh well, at least the others haven’t caught on.

Warriors hefts a huge rock over his shoulder and throws it, chuckling deep and loud as he smirks at the rancher. “Beat that!”

They’re clearing a road where an avalanche swept through and blocked off the main entrance to a local town. They’ve been at it for hours, and while Legend tries his hardest to be discreet by sticking to things he can actually lift, even if it does require his bracelets, the others have devolved into a contest to see who can throw stuff the furthest.

There’s nothing on the other side of the road except for the edge of a swamp, and even Legend has to admit that it’s ridiculously satisfying to hear each of the heavy stones go ‘plop’ as they land in the marsh.

Twilight smirks at the captain, all his sharp teeth on display as he hefts a rock that’s the size of Wild and easily bigger than half of the rest of the heroes. “Watch and learn, city boy.” Twilight grunts (well at least it took some effort) before throwing the boulder and watching with the rest of them as it soars through the air and lands with a dramatic ‘splosh’ in the middle of the swamp. Cheers erupt from the younger heroes, and a few even drop their own burdens to give a brief round of applause.

Warriors humphs shrewdly, gaze thin as he looks over at Twi, who only cocks a brow in challenge. “Anyone think they can beat that?”

Legend finds his gaze meeting Four’s swirling hazel, and they both quickly look away from the captain, both well aware that the biggest rocks they’ve lifted are maybe the sizes of their heads, and no where near the horrific loads that the taller heroes are tossing left and right.

“I’ll try!” Wild’s eyes are flashing as the kid clambers over the rock slide, eyes darting to and fro until they land on what has to be the biggest, most horrifically sized piece of rubble Legend has ever seen. The Champion beams, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles briefly before taking the stone in both hands and lifting it over his head and throwing it.

The swam erupts in goop and several of their group yelp and have to dark back as smelly water sprinkles the edge of the path. Wild beams down from his perch on top of the pile, hands on his hips as he looks down at them. “Who dares challenge my strength?”

“How about you, Vet?” Warriors nudges him lightly, chuckling with a cocked brow. The man is just teasing, and he doesn’t mean any harm, but Legend finds himself irritated anyways. He doesn’t know what it is about Warriors, but the man gets under his skin entirely too easily.

“No thanks.” He grunts, hefting his own stone (so small in comparison) a bit higher and adjusting his grip as he walks over to the swamp.

Wild scrabbles around above, knocking stones aside and sending them rolling down towards the vet. Legend rolls his eyes, dodging quickly around a few and kicking some of the larger ones in the direction of the swamp.

He smiles to himself at the satisfying ‘plonk’ as each one hits the surface.

Four’s head aches and the next time they see Warriors they’re going to kick him in the shins.

The captain is good at planning, usually, but if his planning means that Four is waking up to stare around a vast room where people in red and black PJ suits are eating bananas because said plan went wrong, then they think they’re a bit justified in wanting to kick the captain.

They’d reach to rub their head, to adjust the headband that’s riding too low and letting their hair all hang in their eyes, but their hands are bound behind them, and they’re left huffing their breath and scrunching their nose in an effort to relive their irritation. Their mind is too wild to shake their head, but they let their eyes wander.

Legend’s violet gaze meets theirs, sharp fury bubbling below the surface as Legend sits across from them, hands bound behind him, a rope leading from his wrists to a hook in the wall that is definitely higher than either of the two of them can reach.

As unkind as it is, they breathe a sigh of relief to know they aren’t alone (even if being four people in one body technically means that they’re never alone as is). It’s...nice, having Legend around. They don’t know what it is, but the taller boy feels safe and that’s something that they, especially Red, fond comfort in.

But the fact that two of them are here means that Wars is getting both his shins kicked, fair is fair.

Legend squeaks in that harsh way he does when he’s angry, a poor and rather adorable attempt at a growl, but apparently, he’s unable to make any sort of guttural noise, so the squeak is the best he can do. “I am going to strangle Wars when we get back. Yiga? Seriously?”

They raise a brow. “Weren’t we fighting moblins?”

“And a Talus. Unless these guys have transformative rings, then someone messed up.” The vet grates out, but before he can try and unravel their situation any more, a masked face is shoved into the vets own, one of the pajama clad banana eater’s apparently trying to leer over the vet, breath strong and rank even behind his mask.

“So! The friends of the hero awake! You will call me Astorah! Leader of the Yiga and supreme priestess to Lord Ganon!”

“I’ll call you annoying and maybe alive if you let us go.” legend drawls, unimpressed. “Seriously lady, get your face of mine or I’ll knock it in.”

They smirk. Legend is as polite and well-mannered as can be around the country villages, but the minute he’s away from thick mountain drawls and country twang, the Vet becomes a sour and salty speaker who’s as likely to threaten you as o smile at you. It would almost be funny if they weren’t being held captive.

Astorah makes an indignant sound, hand shooting out to smack Legend across the face. The vet can’t do anything to stop it, and the blow sends his head swinging to the side, a faint grunt escaping as the self-declared priestess stands to her full height (she’s taller than either of them at any rate) and promptly orders her subordinates to see to it that the prisoners be brought to ‘the mountain’.

“The hero will be looking for his friends,” The pajama clad leader declares excitedly, hands rubbing together like a villain in a bad stage play. “So, let's help him out, shall we?”

The vet and smithy exchange a glance, each somewhat surprised at how... pathetic their opponent seems to be.

“Their screams should do the trick; all heroes listen to cries of help after all.” There’s a mad waver in her voice and the pitching is all wrong.

She’s delusional. Vio whispers, and the rest of them are inclined to agree.

Across from them, legend scowls as another red and black clad weirdo comes to grasp his binds, unhooking them from above as yet another does the same to Four.

Ideally, they would try and escape now, but legend only follows along slowly as Astorah leads them through the endless halls and up step after step, murmuring, laughing and shrieking loudly as she goes, hands fluttering and gestures erratic as Legend’s scowl grows more and more each minute.

It all seems rather pathetic, all thing considered, until another, larger, more intimidating individual stops them, voice harsh as it grates out something in a language neither hero can understand. Astorah protests and shrieks at the figure, but they disregard her and instead turn to the heroes.

“Put them back, screams echo within a cave far better than on a mountain top.”

Four’s stomach sinks. Being outside means being closer to escape, means finding the others easier and kicking Wars for landing the in a battle where two of their own had been captured by the enemy.

Legend seems to be of the same idea, his eyes flashing as he pulls at his bonds, tugging away from the guard holding onto him.

The oddly garbed enemy slaps him again, but Legend doesn’t seem to be affected, only pushing harder and biting towards the next hand that swings his way. Astorah pulls away with a light sob, shrieking when Legend’s teeth keep hold of her hand while the enemies around them erupt into action.

Fours unsure of what happens next, their head is still spinning, and quite honestly, they’re sure Hyrule will declare him concussed when they get back, but he does see blows being thrown Legend's way, blades being drawn as shouts echo around them.

There’s a dark of movement, and one of the enemies falls. Four stares in shock for half of a moment before turning their gaze to Legend, who, for all intents and purposes, looks half feral.

Blood stains the Vet’s bucked teeth and his hair swirls as he spins and ducks beneath blows. His hands are still bound tightly behind him, a rope trailing on the ground as Legend evades contact, yet somehow still manages to down another enemy.

Four would try and help, but their mind is spinning, their brain not yet up to date with what their eyes are seeing, that and they’re still bound themself, their arms are fastened behind them and they’re not even sure how Legend is managing to get blows in.

And the he sees.

The vet’s boot swings up to make contact with one of the jaws of the enemy.

Yiga. Wild had told them about them, the Yiga clan, people out for the hero’s blood. The word only comes to mind now, but they’d had to tune out of the battle for a brief moment to remember it. They’re brought back to it as the sound of an agonized scream breaks through the air, accompanied by the harsh snapping sound that Four knows too well from having broken their own bones.

Legend fights with his hands behind his back, kicking out like an angered horse and injuring any who step near. It’s impressive honestly, watching how blood spurts and bones crumple from the force of the vet’s blows, and all that without having use of his hands.

The Yiga back away, eventually leaving the room entirely as Legend squeaks out an angry Legend sound after them, before turning his attention to Four. Four says nothing, and it appear Legend thinks that that’s okay, because he darts towards the door they had been headed too, leading Four with nervous glances being thrown back over his shoulder every few minutes.

The mountain top they emerge onto is higher than Four expected, and they want nothing more than to snuggle down in the cozy parka Legend once leant him, but they have none of their items, and they’re lucky to even be out in one piece.

It takes a lot of work to climb down a mountain with their hands tied, but their fingers are too cold to make any good of the knots, and they manage in the end to climb down. They’re in the last legs when Four notices what looks like a small group of travelers below, and they can almost hear the singing of the Four Sword from them.

They’d dropped their blade in their battle, the very reason they were caught in the first blade. They’re not happy someone else touched it, but they are glad they didn’t leave it behind.

“Four,” Legend’s voice breaks them from their thoughts, and as they turn to face him, they find that Legend’s face is flushed, ears twitching nervously as he avoids their gaze. “Could you...not tell the others about all that?”

“About what?” They clamber down another stone, Legend still within sight as he trails down beside them.

“The...kicking.” Legend flushes. “I know you guys- most of them anyway- could have it handled better. I just, Wars is bad enough as is, I don’t need him bring up my lack of strength next time he decides he needs ammo to mess with me.” There’s a scowl on the vets features as he hops down and across and small hold in the mountain side. “I get it, I’m weak in comparison, they could probably have beheaded those guys with their bare hands, but mine fingers are shit o a good day and-”

Four doesn’t know if they actually figure something out or randomly spew words, but Legend’s eyes turn to them in surprise when the smithy stares down at him. “You do know most Hylia’s can’t do anything by kicking each other, right? I’m planning on kicking Wars when we get back, and the most it’ll do is bruise him.” Their voice is flat, but they let Viol take over, he always had the best endurance out of them when it came to rocky places anyways. “You kicked a man’s ribs in, Legend.”

And it’s not funny, it really isn’t, but they giggle, watching as Legend flushes before their eyes, and when the others trail up towards them, gazes curious and concerned, Four is laughing hysterically.

It could be the head wound, it could be Legend’s face, but the thought that Legend was able to kick a man's ribs in and hadn’t done so to any of them yet was both surprising and highly relieving for whatever reason, and it’s hilarious listening to Legend try and explain himself as the vet protests and struggles against the fact that apparently Hylian’s don’t usually have enough leg strength to kill people with.

Yes, people died back there. Yes, Four just watched them die. Maybe it’s Shadow’s influence, but Four can’t find that they're overly bothered. They are tired and injured and cold, and if they can laugh about something as ridiculous as Legend’s strange strength imbalance, then Hylia danggit they’re going to!

They never do kick Wars’ shins in, they giggle to hard at the thought that Legend doing so could actually break them, so they topple over before they can lift their feet.

#fluffics #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fic requests #lu legend #lu four #yiga clan #why does no one write a female yiga leader who's stupid?#it's fun #as a girl I can say we can be very dumb #and she is

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maverick-werewolf · 4 years

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Werewolf Worldbuilding Sheet

Instead of a werewolf fact this week, have something I’ve been working on for a little while now. I was sent an ask about a good werewolf worldbuilding sheet. Me being me, willing to settle for no one else’s werewolf things, I thought - hey, why not make my own? I love worldbuilding werewolves and I’ve tried to make sure to think of literally everything to do with mine, so I thought I’d put together a relatively simple werewolf worldbuilding sheet! (and maybe a vampire one in the future!)

I will first extrapolate on each section of the sheet and provide some thoughts/examples (and relevant werewolf facts to turn to for ideas!)...

What is lycanthropy and where did it come from? This is always something to consider. Note, of course, that where it came from may be a mystery, and that’s fine too. You don’t have to always do the “it came from a demon or a witch” thing like literally everyone else in the universe. Folklore provides us with some interesting material to help think on this - here are some helpful werewolf facts: What IS a werewolf? --- Curse, not Disease --- On Werewolf Biology --- When Werewolves Went Feral Part 1 --- and Part 2

How does one become a werewolf? Pretty simple question, but always complicated to answer! Well, potentially. How does someone become a werewolf in your story? Definitely a helpful werewolf fact for ideas - but also refer to several from the first question: Becoming a werewolf

Are there different terms for werewolves? Something else to think about! Are your werewolves even called “werewolves?” They don’t have to be, of course, but you know, it’d be cooler if they were. And most monsters, especially in older times, didn’t have just one name - not to mention other languages in your universe that would have their own terms for a werewolf. Useful werewolf fact: Etymology

Are there different kinds of werewolves or similar shapeshifters? This is kind of a weird one, I know, but hey, it’s something to think about. I for one don’t go into the “werewolves are just one kind of shapeshifter that happen to all be pretty much exactly like werewolves but different animals” (looking at you, D&D and WoD), but lots of people do, so that’s up to you! Helpful/potentially relevant werewolf facts: What is and isn’t a werewolf --- Where were the werewolf hybrids --- On shaping other shapeshifters --- Berserkers --- Vrykolakas --- Loup garous and rougarous --- Magic skins

What do the werewolves look like? A big one to decide! I’ll try not to influence you, but, you know, werewolves are called werewolves, just try to remember that. Useful werewolf facts: Physical Appearance --- Werewolves have tails --- Wolves are big, werewolves are bigger --- Hands and claws --- Fur colors --- Eye colors --- How to identify a werewolf --- Werewolves walking upright

Do werewolves have packs? Werewolf packs saturate our current generation of pop culture, but they are indeed very popular. Consider, however, that werewolves’ characterization is severely degraded if they are basically unable to exist without a pack and/or devote themselves entirely to seeking a pack instead of being a person at all; not that werewolf packs are bad, but something to consider. Useful werewolf facts: Is alpha, beta, omega really a thing? --- Communities and families --- Inheritance/offspring

What are a werewolf's powers and abilities? There might be more than you think! Have fun with it! Just remember, werewolves should totally be OP. Like, way OP. No, I’m not kidding. They’re awesome. We love werewolves on this blog, remember? Useful werewolf facts: Powers and abilities --- Eye/vision powers --- Spirit projection --- Werewolves can outrun you --- Werewolves can swim --- Werewolves can climb trees --- Gluttony/swallowing things whole

Do they have any weaknesses, and why? Another big question! Do your werewolves have weaknesses? Or do they not? If so, of course - what are they? Useful werewolf facts: How to kill a werewolf (weaknesses) --- Silver --- Belladonna and wolfsbane --- Werewolf and monster hunters

What triggers a werewolf transformation? The BIG one! Well, one of the big ones. Super, super important. Is it more than one thing? What are they? Details! Useful werewolf facts: Transformation triggers --- Transformation sequence --- On werewolf biology (again) --- Full moon --- The Arcadians

What triggers a werewolf to return to human form again? What it says on the tin. This can vary a lot! It’ll definitely be influenced by the first question, but it’s something to maybe think about separately.

Can a werewolf be “cured”? This can depend, of course, on what exactly your werewolves are/how they work, but it’s always useful to know the answer as to whether or not there’s any hope of someone being totally human again. Plese see previous questions for other useful facts, like if your lycanthropy is a curse in the first place! Useful werewolf facts: How to cure lycanthropy

Can the werewolves control themselves, or ever learn how to do so? Are your werewolves even uncontrollable in the first place? Is there any hope for a sad werewolf to ever gain control, if so? Useful werewolf facts: When Werewolves Went Feral Part 1 --- and Part 2 --- Personality changes

How do werewolves act in their werewolf form and why? Are your werewolves full of rage? Are the hungry? Do they eat people? Why? Would they hunt specifically people, or what? Useful werewolf facts: When Werewolves Went Feral Part 1 --- and Part 2 (yes, again) --- Werewolves vs Evil --- Personality changes (again) --- Werewolves don’t bark --- Werewolf diet --- Werewolves vs vampires (my most controversial post lol) --- Werewolves as noble knights --- The trial of Peter Stubbe -- Werewolf Intelligence (and speech)

Are werewolves immortal, or anything approaching it? How about that immortality? Useful werewolf facts: Immortality and aging --- Powers and abilities (again)

How are werewolves treated/seen by others? Are they outcasts? Kill on sight? Hunted from the very moment someone finds out what they are? Do they have to hide the fact that they are a werewolf? How does it work? Useful werewolf facts: Hiding being a werewolf

Do werewolves remember anything about their transformations? What it says on the tin! Do they, or do they not? Is it hazy? Do they have no memory of it at all and might not even realize they are a werewolf? Or do they remember everything? Useful werewolf facts: Memory

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Please note of course that my werewolf facts are here to give you ideas, not be instructions. Werewolves of your creation are of your creation, and thus you should create them the way you want and like them! I don’t want to dictate to anyone the way werewolves “should” be, although I absolutely have my personal preferences. The werewolf facts are meant to give you ideas and, hopefully, be a good jumping off point.

Folklore isn’t always the coolest portrayal of werewolves - it’s just better, IMO, to use folklore as a basis or at least as an idea basin instead of ignoring it entirely. The folklore for werewolves is awesome, just like all folklore. But pop culture has given us some cool things, too.

And remember, if you have any other questions or want to throw ideas at me or ask me my thoughts on anything, I am more than happy to talk werewolf ideas with you! Please, share your werewolves with me! I promise they don’t have to be ultra-folkloric for me to love them (mine actually aren’t, in many respects), since I’m a big fan of several very Hollywood things as well. I’m also always here to give writing advice.

Enjoy!

More on werewolf tropes

Reframing “werewolf angst” into “werewolf anxiety” (very important!)

On pop culture werewolf designs and Underworld’s influence

Werewolves are not British

The Beast of Gevaudan and what isn’t a werewolf legend

Wargs/worgs

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BLANK VERSION OF THE SHEET:

What is lycanthropy and where did it come from?

How does one become a werewolf?

Are there different terms for werewolves?

Are there different kinds of werewolves or similar shapeshifters?

What do the werewolves look like?

Do werewolves have packs?

What are a werewolf's powers and abilities?

Do they have any weaknesses, and why?

What triggers a werewolf transformation?

What triggers a werewolf to return to human form again?

Can a werewolf be “cured”?

Can the werewolves control themselves, or ever learn how to do so?

How do werewolves act in their werewolf form and why?

Are werewolves immortal, or anything approaching it?

How are werewolves treated/seen by others?

Do werewolves remember anything about their transformations?

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And of course, don’t forget to check the werewolf fact masterlist for even more info on folkloric werewolves (and my sundry opinions on pop culture werewolves)!

Be sure to give me a follow for lots more werewolf facts, vampire facts, answering all your asks, and a whole lot more folklore and writing, as well as writing advice!

(If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to check out my other stuff! And please consider supporting me on Patreon - every little bit helps keep this blog running!

Patreon --- Wulfgard --- Werewolf Fact Masterlist --- Twitter)

#writing advice #worldbuilding #werewolf #werewolves #lycanthropy #lycanthropes #fantasy #urban fantasy #supernatural #paranormal #werewolf wednesday #werewolfwednesday #worldbuilding tools #worldbuilding sheet

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sigynappreciation · 3 years

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Sigyn Meta: Who is Sigyn?

A Norse Goddess who is known for being the wife of the Trickster, Loki, and holding the bowl to protect him from the snake’s venom.

But besides that, Who is Sigyn? What does she mean to others?

Journey with me as we explore who she is -- not only in the mythologies, but in other forms like the Marvel Comics, Worship and through fans.

#JusticeforSigyn

Sigyn’s Origins (Mythology):

Sadly, not many stories that have Sigyn in them have survived till today. She is only attested in the following works: Poetic Edda & Prose Edda.

In the poem, Lokasenna, the most famous of poem’s with the couple, it talks of how Loki has been bound by the gods with the guts of his son, Nari, and how his son, Vari, has been turned into a wolf. The Goddess Skadi fastens a venomous snake over Loki’s face, from which venom drips. Sigyn, stated as Loki’s wife, stays by his side and holds a basin under and catches the venom so it won’t drip onto her husband, but when the basin grows full, she pulls it away to empty it, during which time venom drops onto Loki, causing him to wither so violently that earthquakes occur that shake the entire earth.

In the poem, Gylfaginning, Sigyn is introduced in Chapter 31 as being married to Loki and that they have a son by the name of “Narfi or Nari”. She is then mentioned again in Chapter 50 where events are described differently than in Lokasenna; Vali, described as a son of Loki only, is changed into a wolf by the gods and rips apart his brother, “Narfi or Nari.” The guts of Nari are then used to tie Loki to three stones, after which the guts turn to iron, and Skadi places a snake above Loki. Sigyn of course catches the venom in a bowl. This process is repeated until he breaks free, setting Ragnarok into motion.

In the poem, Skáldskaparmál, Sigyn is introduced as a goddess, an Æsir, where the gods are holding a feast for their visitors and in kennings for Loki: “husband of Sigyn” and “cargo [Loki] of incantation-fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms.”

Sigyn’s name means “Victorious-Girlfriend” in Old Norse.

Sigyn may appear on the Gosforth Cross and has been the subject of an amount of theory and cultural references.

She appears in the 9th century skaldic poem Haustlöng from pagan times, written by the skald Þjóðólfr of Hvinir. Due to this early connection with Loki, Sigyn has been theorized as being a goddess dating back to an older form of Germanic paganism.

Sigyn in Worship/Honor:

I’ll be speaking on this through my personal experience of working with Sigyn while also sharing some tid bits of basic info from others on this subject. I’m someone who works with Sigyn primarily, but sometimes gets help from Loki.

A Lokean is someone who honors Loki as their primary deity ( or at least one of their primary deities.) Most are polytheists that respect a variety of worldviews and a wide variety of gods. FOR MORE ON THIS SUBJECT, VISIT THIS BLOG: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com

For those who work with Loki, you will also find yourself working with Sigyn. And sometimes you don’t even need to work with Loki first in order to work with Sigyn (like me!)

Sigyn is usually a calming and motherly presence. Loki is protective over her, but they usually work in unison together to help.

SMALL DEVOTIONAL ACTS TO SIGYN:

Holding the Bowl: It is a reflective act of Sigyn holding the bowl to protect Loki from the snake’s venom. This is usually the major one.

Helping to support mothers (especially single mothers)

Support single parents

Supporting Women’s Rights

Keep fighting through the hardships

Wear earthy tones

Commitment in everything you do.

Help others, but remember that self-care is important too

More devotional acts

KENNINGS/HEITI FOR SIGYN:

Wife of Loki

Incantation-Fetter

Lady of Staying Power

Lady of Unyielding Gentleness

Lady of the Unconquerable Heart

Mother of Narvi and Vali

North Star

Victory Woman

Lady of Loyalty

Loki’s Treasure

Devoted Mother

Lady of Endurance

Goddess of Constancy

Goddess of the Heart

Goddess of Neglected Children

Goddess of Comfort

Healer to All

Mother to All

Beloved of Monsters

SIGYN’S VIRTUES:

Strength

Loyalty

Grace

Humility

Gentleness

Charity

Constancy

Love

Endurance

Patience

Simplicity

Mindfulness

Compassion

I’ll cover more on this subject soon in a separate post, but this is the basic.

Sigyn in the Marvel Comics:

Sadly, Sigyn is not portrayed the best in the Marvel Comics of Thor, resulting in her being missing from the comics since 1996 and practically killed off (only being referenced to in flashbacks.)

Loki comes across her and desires to have her. However, she is already engaged to an Asgardian named Theoric, who Loki has killed and ends up taking on the disguise of in order to take Sigyn for his own. On their wedding day once the vows are said and done, Sigyn accepts her duty as his wife, granting her the title Goddess of Fidelity by Odin.

She doesn’t have much of an agency or personality besides being Loki’s faithful wife in this.

Fans wish for her to make a comeback in the Comics and MCU with better characterization. Hence, much Fanfiction, Cosplay, Roleplay and Fanart has been made of others own interpretation’s of Sigyn and #JusticeforSigyn is shared around in hopes of this.

LIST OF SIGYN COMIC APPEARANCES:

Thor Vol 1 #275 (First appearance, 1978)

Thor Vol 1 #276

Thor Vol 1 #277

Thor Vol 1 #278

Thor Vol 1 #301

Thor Vol 1 #302

Thor Vol 1 #303

Thor Vol 1 #307

Thor Annual Vol 1 (9)

Thor Vol 1 #313

Thor Vol 1 #321

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 (1)

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 2 (1)

Gamer’s Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 (1)

Thor Annual Vol 1 (14)

Thor Annual Vol 1 (19)

Thor Vol 1 #479

Thor Vol 1 #483

Thor Vol 1 #484 (1995)

Thor: The Legend Vol 1 (1) (1996, last appearance)

Avengers: Loki Unleashed #1 (2019, first & only modern day appearance since 90s. FLASHBACK ONLY)

LIST OF SIGYN MENTIONS IN COMICS:

Thor Annual Vol 1 #10 (1982)

Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe Vol 1 #11 (1983)

Thor: Asgard’s Avenger Vol 1 #1 (2011)

Mighty Thor Vol 1 #12.1 (2012)

Loki Vol 3 #1 (2019 - referenced)

Sigyn and her impact with Fans:

Sigyn is still not that well known among others, but there is a small community of us fans who honor her through all forms she is displayed and her relationship with Loki. This is the reason this blog and @dailylogyn were created: to help unite fans and spread the word of Sigyn and her relationship with Loki through appreciation and education.

Fans also show their appreciation for Sigyn through Art forms like Fanfiction, Cosplay, Fanart & More! The cool thing is that she can be interpreted however you wish, but her love for Loki and her compassion is always her strong points.

There is a tag #JusticeforSigyn in order to help give her the proper attention she deserves. MORE HERE.

FANARTISTS:

I’m not going to post any of their art here in order to make others visit their blogs and give them the appropriate credit they deserve.

Let’s support content creators! <3

@nanigram/Nanihoo: This artist makes wonderful fanart of her own interpretation of Sigyn and her relationship with Loki (plus their children.) You can usually find most of it on Deviantart.

@sigynart: This artist makes lovely art of Tom Hiddelston’s Loki, but has recently come out with their own interpretation of Sigyn and has even started to draw Loki & Sigyn together.

@dank-art: This artist makes a lot of interesting twists to Sigyn and Loki either if it’s a modern look, an alternate universe or a certain aesthetic of the couple. They have a lot of amazing concept designs concerning Sigyn and Loki!

COSPLAYERS:

@bubbleteycosplay: She is known as the German Sigyn! This cosplayer has done a wide varieties of different versions/outfits of Sigyn. Besides here, you can usually find her on Instagram, Deviantart and other websites. She also helps inform others on Sigyn and her relationship with Loki.

In fact, HERE IS A LIST she has created pertaining to other Sigyn Cosplayers. I’ll list the others below though with links to their pages:

Vontrug (Instagram)

lady_laufeyson (Instagram)

Mizerious (Instagram)

Maryintothewoods (Instagram)

danni_darling (Instagram)

I myself am planning to join these wonderful cosplayers too as I work to create my own Sigyn cosplay as well. :) They are all such an inspiration!

CONCLUSION:

I could go on and on about the subject of Sigyn. She’s an amazing, caring and loving goddess who teaches us many helpful traits we need throughout life. Despite still not being that well known, she is greatly loved by this community -- and none other than Loki.

Hopefully someday she will make a comeback in the Marvel world and get the proper characterization and love she deserves. Till then, us fans will continue to share the love, joy and appreciation we have for Sigyn and her relationship with Loki, welcoming anyone as Sigyn does with open arms and loving hearts.

SOURCES:

Holding the Bowl: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com/post/102422224083/a-bowling-tutorial

Lokean Welcoming Community: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com

Small Devotional Acts to Sigyn: https://bramblevitch.wordpress.com/2020/06/23/small-devotional-acts-to-sigyn/

Sigyn on Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigyn

Lokean Welcoming Community’s topics on Sigyn: https://lokeanwelcomingcommittee.tumblr.com/tagged/sigyn

Sigyn on Marvel Database: https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Sigyn_(Earth-616)

Sigyn’s Shrine: Who is Sigyn?: http://www.northernpaganism.org/shrines/sigyn/sigyn/who-is-sigyn.html

Sigyn - Norse Mythology for Smart People: https://norse-mythology.org/sigyn/

#sigyn #justiceforsigyn #norse mythology #marvel #logyn #loki and sigyn #sigynappreciation #sigyn meta #norse pagan #marvel comics #loki x sigyn

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therealmintedmango · 4 years

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Cerberus - Part One

Summary: ...”An eerie shadowy figure looms across the way making my murderous blood run cold. It looks smaller than a bear so the thought of running into a bloodthirsty wild animal leaves my mind. It looks not like a wild boar or cat. Wait. There appears to be not just one figure looming across the meadow but two. My eyes widen. The figures don't move but they both stand like humans would upon two legs. But they are bigger… Much larger now that I squint across at these two unknown figures. My stomach drops as I feel like a low growl is produced by the looming, unwavering figures… with… glowing amber eyes?...”

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Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual romance/ smut

Beta Read By: @justanothergirlfromeurope Thank you so much my darling for helping me with this! You are wonderful! Thank you! 💖

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit

Words: 5,379

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Dark themes; Possible Yandere Vibes in the future; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Implied Incest (nothing happens - I promise); Mentions of being naked/ being seen naked; I think that’s it.

It’s late July in the afternoon, the hot sun baking boils on exposed skin if you are a brave enough soul to show any flesh. The cicadas cry, the large winged beasts screaming into the scorching air, sounding like terrible, angry monsters. My giggles cut through the loud droning of the winged beetles, pleased to my core I even let out an unladylike snort, shoulders shaking as Seungkwan tells the group of us a joke. I sit with a few of my brothers - the princes of the land in which father rules - in the shade of the maple when the laughing ceases as a shadow blocks the sun from roasting us further. The younger crowd of my brothers and I look up to see it is men from the king’s court, walking over to our shady spot in the garden, solemn features, shiny hats, and a loyalty to my father is the only thing they share.

They say that mother has passed.

My brother Minghao gets up and asks where the older kin of boys are. The advisors tell him as he barks at us to stay here. The castle, they say. Infection, they say. Seokmin gasps, the bright smile like mother’s downturned at the news. Seungkwan’s joyful attitude dies. Vernon covers his face with his hands, a sob ripping from his throat. Youngest of my thirteen brothers, Chan, clings to me suddenly, tears welling in his large brown orbs as I hold him steadfast.

The food sitting in my stomach feels rotten and cursed all of a sudden. All the sound dies from my ears, my mouth hangs open as the breath escapes me.

Infection they say? How could they say such a thing? She was never ill, I think as people are running in and out of the castle, screaming and crying—something I wish I could do at this moment. I flinch, hearing my most vicious brother - Soonyoung - bellow a sound I wasn’t aware he was able to produce.

I feel the same, but only in my heart for my lips cannot utter even a simple, single whisper.

I was never close with mother even being the only daughter she had out of the fourteen children she created over the years with father when she was fertile - the only job a woman of nobility has in these times. And when she is finished having many children she is to still retain her youthful appearance which she did easily.

They said that she gave her children a little piece of herself when she birthed us all. Chan has her sparkling eyes, Seokmin her smile, Junhui has her high cheekbones, Soonyoung has her unbreakable spirit, Minghao has her sharp tongue, Jeonghan has her cunning brain, Jihoon has her feisty attitude, Mingyu has her ability to be understanding and kind in the midst of her fire and passion, Seungkwan retains her strange sense of humor, Wonwoo got her cool intelligence, Vernon got her uncanny skill to be so young but so strong at the same time, Seungcheol has her unyielding stride, and Joshua her wit. And they say that I am a twin of my mother physically: her hair, her body type, her smile, eyes, her wide hips, sharp shoulders, feet, hands, legs, and even my fingernails.

I only wish I had her spirit and fire my brothers bear, but perhaps they took it all before I was created in her belly? They say that children suck precious things out of you. Did I take everything else from her? Was my guilt eating me alive?

My father, the king of this land, kept her locked away most of the time in the high tower of the west portion of the castle. I don’t know much about father but I know he is easily jealous. He wants the best whatever that may be: the most children, the best cloaks, the best military, the cleanest streets, the shiniest coins, the happiest peasants, the most beautiful queen in all of the land. Father hated when mother would talk to anyone that wasn’t close kin at dinner time or when we went to the market when she would merely look at the fruit seller man. She would be gone for days, no trace of her for a week or so, emerging with tired eyes, brushing the stray hairs from my face as she smiled sadly at me. Little did I know there was no fruit seller in the cobblestone market either.

Still, my heart aches for a mother I had and hardly ever knew.

The sound of the boisterous cicadas fills my ears, hearing returning to normal as brothers Jeonghan and Joshua come to collect us shortly after that, faces made of what looks like stone.

It has been many moons since mother has passed. The air that was once ripe with colors and sounds is quieter now. It’s cool, my peacoat and shawl wrapped around me when I roam the garden in the afternoon with a different brother each day. It’s almost time for a harvest moon which comes in a week, Wonwoo told me on our walk yesterday. The demons and goblins of the underworld are said to have sprung up from the dirt and mud during these times. We sent mother away on a burning ship out to sea so I can’t help but wonder if mother is in the sky, the ground, or the sea still.

My brother Soonyoung and I walk quietly together, the brown leaves crunching under our boots. It is a rare time when his voice is still. I know he is pondering what to say to me.

What can one say to me?

I love them deeply though, their touch and affection they still bring to me after each day. Sun up to sun down they coddle me. They have always coddled me, even the elder ones who are fit and strong and ready to be wed treat me as if I am a babe. I used to hate feeling like this, like I am small and unimportant, a babe who needs protecting. The only daughter the king has ever had. One of fourteen. I am no one to my father, to his people. But to my brothers now I see, I am their youngest sister. Something they only have one of. They cling tighter to me emotionally and physically now that mother is no longer here.

I will take this feeling and hold onto it. I am important to them for that is why they treat me this way.

The sound of horse hooves clattering up the path behind startles me. Soonyoung shields me, pulling me into his warm chest. I am comforted and protected.

“Prince Soonyoung, Princess.” The captain speaks monotone. They do not call my name for I am a woman. Even of nobility and the pride of my brothers, I have no name besides my title.

The captain’s lips move. I have no idea if what I heard was true. Soonyoung snarls and tells them that it's preposterous and evil and to shoo before he cuts them with his blade attached to his hip. They turn on their stallions and leave, a fog rolling into the garden as I feel hot and confused.

Did I hear them correctly?

They say that father wants to marry me.

They say that he will never be able to find a bride as beautiful and as perfect as my mother. They said that I will wed at sunset tomorrow.

It is my turn to be made of stone as I fall into darkness. My breath is gone, a warm exhale hits the cool air, leaving my lips in a wisp before I pass out in my middle brother’s strong arms.

When I awaken, my eldest brother, Prince Seungcheol, is heard pleading with my father in the political hall. His usually calm voice echoes against the rock of the building, the fire crackling in his basins as my thirteen brothers all object to me being my father's next bride. His brows are kit, furrowed as his lips speak my thoughts for me while father watches with mild amusement, seated at his holy throne.

“She is not ready to be wed! She has not even bled yet!” He remarks, flinging his hands out to his sides. Little do they know, I have, I have just kept it a secret, becoming a woman is nobody's business but my own. “She is your daughter! Think, father! Think! How the kingdom will hate you for that! It is vile!” His voice cracks, tears swim in his brown eyes as my brothers shake their heads in agreement.

Yes. How vile indeed, I think watching them all silently behind a pillar from above the hall.

Father gets up with a wretched smile stretched upon his lips. I take a few steps forward, uncloaking myself from the secrets of the darkness in my nightgown a maid must have dressed me in, looking over the stone railing. “She is our littlest sister! Our only sister! She deserves to be married for love and only love-“

SLAP.

I gasp as my stomach pits into itself. My brothers flinch.

“How dare you talk like this to me, Seungcheol!” Father spits, anger flashing in his eyes like the fire in the torch basins. “She is a woman. She has no rights no matter who and what she is. She belongs to me.”

“How dare you treat Y/N like an object and not like your daughter!” Soonyoung snarls, mothers fire lit inside of him like the hot sun. He is brilliant and strong like a tiger who burns through the forest in his powerful wake.

Father raises his hand striking Soonyoung across his cheek with a sound that echoes in the corners of the hall. Something falls from his hands, though its clanking sound is covered up from the shouts that follow.

“How dare you thirteen boys!” Father is shouting, my feet are moving on their own, rushing down the stairs to my brothers. “All of you are utterly worthless!” He shouts as Mingyu, the tallest brother, rage ablaze on his face as he moves toward the king, arms raised as he acts like he is about to slap father.

Please, don’t! Is what I want to say, but I cannot.

“Guards!” My father shouts into the hall as they come running in at his command. “Flog them all hundred lashes each!” He smiles a wicked smile as I run up to the scene with the ones carrying swords and pointed sticks. “And if they make a sound give them ten more!”

My brothers are being beaten and detained and my heart is breaking into fragile glass as the noise and blood coming from their mouths is too much to bear.

I do the only thing I can do.

It is my turn to protect my brothers.

Please mother, give me all your strength to stand up to this vile, evil man who surely killed you for the sport of it. My gut twists thinking of the peril I may face rising to the challenge that is our father.

“Stop!” I say, my voice shaking as the next few seconds feel like hours and the eyes of all the men in the hall are on me. I walk toward my weathered and old looking father as he smirks a devilish grin down at me ascending the steps to his throne.

“Father please, I beg you: I will marry you and do whatever you say, as long as you let them go now.” My voice does not shake now. My voice is calm and steady. Mother’s spirit fills me at this moment as I speak up to my father. Before this, I have not spoken to him before this for what feels like eons until now.

“No!” Several of my brothers yell as I stand in false confidence, inhaling the iron from the red liquid that fills the hall. “No! No! No!” They shout as I stand in front of the man that doesn’t see me as a daughter. I am an object to him, whether I like it or not.

He smiles, stroking his wiry, grey beard as he sits back on his golden chair, cloaks draped over his shoulders pool and spill over the seat behind him.

“Whatever you say?” Father quips and I nod, hands balling into fists onto my sides, nails that are not mine dig into skin that is also not mine. “Then strip.”

My eyes grow wide, my lips part in shock, my blood which is mine boils, white-hot and merciless trapped in this skin that should belong to my mother.

“Father, please!” Jeonghan, my father’s son and second eldest, pleads now. “Be reasonable!”

“She said anything, boys.” My father, the ugly worm that he is, states calmly.

“Should a virgin be seen like this before she is wed?” Joshua makes a good point while father rips his pupils away from me as Jihoon, smart bugger that he is, recites the article of the kingdom where it is unlawful for a virgin to be seen in such a state before she is made another man’s woman.

Father scoffs as he says, “Flog them two hundred times if they don’t like-“

“No.” I say, holding my ground, brushing hair out of my face. All eyes on me again as Chan starts crying. “I will do what you wish.”

“Then do it!” Father shouts, banging his fist on the arm of the golden seat as he gets up. “Do it now and if anyone makes a noise: I will behead you.”

I do it. I find the buttons on my yellow nightgown, my hands do not shake or waver as I shake the comfortable garment from my shoulders. My slip is the only thing that covers me now. My brothers close their eyes, look away, Chan choking on his sobs but the only thing I can hear is the roar of the crackling of fire. I step out of my nightgown, walking up to my father's throne. I see it. Glinting in the torch light. A stray blade lies upon the steps close to the devil king that is my flesh and blood.

Praise the gods for the viscous middle brother I have.

I step out of my white slip now, distracting the men who have their wicked eyes set upon me, hungry wolves ready to take any meat they can. I hold my father’s gaze as it travels down my body, making sure he does not look upon what my right hand is doing.

I have it. I move quickly, the spirit of my mother now fully alive inside of the body that is said not to be mine.

But now it’s mine.

I am not a disrespectful child nor have I lashed out against my parents ever. I followed the rules without exception, never spoke out of turn and always let my older brothers go first for treats and presents. Always. I am a slave to my family and the system that I was born into. The ugly demons and snaggle-toothed goblins are really alive and well during this time as my brothers have said. The scent of strong ale hits my nose the closer I get. Maybe the beings of the underworld have possessed him? I am looking for a way out, a way to logically justify the way father is. But no. I know the real answer.

This man is evil. Has always been evil. And he needs to be stopped.

I am not a killer. But I am sick of the mistreatment of my family. I know my father killed my mother. There was no infection. None.

Like a crazy witch with eyes burning like white-hot coals, whose blood is singeing to be set free, I plunge the pointed blade into my father’s throat.

Blood spurts from his neck, squirting against my bare flesh, his eyes roll back as he gurgles profanity, my body blazing as my whole existence is overcome with the desire to end this cycle of corrupt injustice.

“Run!” Vernon shouts as the guards descend in my direction. I drop the blade in haste, my brothers scream for me to run away as the guards scream mutiny.

And I do.

—

-Somewhere deep within the neighboring wood...-

“I’m hungry.” A clear tenor tone sounds off in the dark wood, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he resumes a human form in all his naked glory. Hoseok’s lithe body full of sweat glistens under the moonlight as he reaches for his purple cloaks under the large tree in the middle of the bog they just finished running around in.

“Me as well, brother.” A deep bass vibrates off the trunks of the thick trees, his wolf form morphing into his handsome, tan body.

“Taehyung, Hoseok.” A soft voice wafts through the air. “We aren’t to feast before the full moon.” The eldest quips, melting from his shiny fur, shaking his dark locks free from his collar as he dresses under the almost pregnant moon.

“I can’t wait.” The second eldest grunts as he comes into the torch light that was burning on the stump next to their favorite tree. “The air is ripe with so much wildlife tonight.” He wets the edges of his lips, the thought of fresh, pink, juicy flesh at the forefront of his mind as well as his brothers.

“Where are Jungkook and Jimin?” Namjoon growls as he quickly morphs into his tall self, sweaty skin glistening under the light from the mother moon. Their run through the dense wood was very fruitful in the sense that they let loose and got a lot of pent up energy out of their bodies.

“Weren’t they behind you, Yoongi?” Seokjin questions as he scoops up the younger one’s clothes in his arms, signaling Taehyung and Namjoon to take the torch light. Yoongi shakes his white hair back and forth with a solemn grunt. “Very well,” Seokjin nods, twitching his nostrils in the air. “Hoseok, you have the loudest howl. Will you please call for the troublemakers?”

The man with the hair as bright as cherry pie chuckles right before he sucks in a large breath. The third eldest bellows a howl that will be heard throughout the wood surely.

They wait with bated breath for two of the younger brothers to respond. The wind whips around them carrying the smell of fallen, rotting leaves, thick moisture in the atmosphere, and the odor of something unfamiliar in the air. They all exchange looks in the torches' soft, orange glow. Something doesn’t feel right.

The five brothers start to become uneasy. Taehyung shifts on his feet. Yoongi wets the edges of his lips more. Namjoon shifts his eyes between his brothers, swallowing uncomfortably. Hoseok frowns, kicking a few leaves in the dirt as he waits for the brothers to return his call.

After another moment or two, the second eldest bristles, anger flashing in his amber orbs. “I swear if those wild banshees from the Twicelands have set another trap for us in our forest-“

The white-haired brother is cut off by the sudden cry of both of his brothers they were in search of, coming east off the dense bog.

“Come quickly!” Jimin yelps, his higher pitch ringing around the wood. “Come see brothers!”

Meanwhile, Jungkook only utters one word that has the brothers taking off like bats out of the deep trenches of hell. “Mate!”

—

My skin is on fire, my fingertips numb, and my feet hurt as I run naked from the castle into the blackness of the night.

I escaped through the kitchens, not a sane soul awake at this hour so I quietly slipped through the cracks. I hear more yelling and shouting but I cannot slow down. The blood of my father drips down my naked body, making me feel like a painted warrior.

A shout is heard from the stable. The men on my father’s court call my name but it is not a happy sound. It is a sound of lies, of deceit, of pain they want to inflict upon me. I shudder when I hear Soonyoung scream a throaty battle cry into the evening air, on his way to find these men and rip them limb from limb surely.

Under the almost full, pregnant moon, a blood bath is occurring in the usually peaceful castle.

I trip on an exposed root from a tree beyond the stables. When I gather myself, pushing up off the ground, I see a bed sheet hanging from a line out to dry and I snatch it from the air. I tie it, tugging it around myself loosely, giving my legs room to carry me off into the thick wood that lines the backside of the castle.

Dread and fear taint my senses as I pad along the brush barefoot, trying to maintain a quietness even though I am running. The fallen leaves crunch underfoot, the earth cold. My naked body starts to shiver, the adrenaline of my actions wilting away as I fly through branches and bushes. I have no clue where I am headed, the pale moonlight guiding me. Wherever I see on my path I go next.

My feet slip on the slick ground under my feet. I trip over my heel several times, mud and dirt covering my palms as I right myself. I must not look like a princess, so disgusting, covered in blood and unkept in this feeble, white bed sheet.

I have to press on, I remind myself.

My breathing is ragged as I climb through long, pointed branches and under low shrubs. I stop for a second to catch my breath as I glance at the almost completely blackened forest. The nightlife of the dark wood whispering around me: bats screeching overhead, crickets that haven’t died out sing into the cold night air, even a pack of wolves howl out into the throes of the velvet evening.

I suck in a cool gust of air, ready to trek along the unknown path once more.

Wisps of my breath leave my lips as the cold night air stings my lungs. It feels as though I have been running for ages, the torch light not visible through the thickness of the tall trees. Have I run far enough? I think as I come to a little clearing in the wood, a meadow of soft, lush clover encompasses the land.

An eerie shadowy figure looms across the way making my murderous blood run cold. It looks smaller than a bear so the thought of running into a bloodthirsty wild animal leaves my mind. It looks not like a wild boar or cat. Wait. There appears to be not just one figure looming across the meadow but two. My eyes widen. The figures don't move but they both stand like humans would upon two legs. But they are bigger… Much larger now that I squint across at these two unknown figures. My stomach drops as I feel like a low growl is produced by the looming, unwavering figures… with… glowing amber eyes?

A wind whips through the meadow quickly, breezing from behind me, whipping my hair and the bedsheet about like a flag on a pike.

I hear the sound of horses and I gasp, covering my mouth with the noise I just made. I shake my head, snapping out of my trance of looking to the almost human like figures.

Have they found me? Have the guards and the men of my father’s court located me? My brothers were surely fighting, right? I pray none of my kin have lost their lives because of me. Or are they not men from my father’s castle? Would they hurt me? Torture me? Deflower me?

I shudder.

I turn to run east, looking over my shoulder to the figures that have disappeared in the trees. A fog sweeping through the thicket, blocking my vision. It was probably a trick of my scared mind, I remind myself.

Another thought chills me to the bone as I feel the exposed skin of my legs and arms slice under the thorn bush I accidentally stumble into, making more noise than necessary. I squeak in pain. The more I try and pry myself of the spikes, the more I become entangled inside of the nasty, winding plant. I want to call for help but I don’t want to alert whatever is coming near me.

It is almost the harvest moon. The line between realms is blurred meaning creatures that normally I think exist in fairy tales are real at this time of year. Could it be a wandering herd of ghouls? A pack of wild demons coming to devour my flesh clean off my bone? My body shakes with uncertainty as I paw about the dirt.

Ever since I was a little girl, my brothers have warned me about the wood. I should never go in alone. I should always bring someone. I should always have a weapon or a horse or something to protect me. Monsters are said to lurk in the bog that the wood surrounds in a thick sea of lush brush and vegetation.

An owl hoots overhead as the sound grows thicker, heavier. The footfalls inching closer and closer by the second. The wolf’s howl sounds off again, this time the cries from the beast desperate - the noise much too close for comfort.

No, I think as I freeze with a bone-chilling noise that vibrates off the trees around me. Not just one lone wolf howl. There are two very distinct animal noises that echo off the earth I lie bound to. One softer and longer. The other a little nasally and short - more like a bark than a howl.

I should have run to the market, I think, body shaking from the cold and acute fear that plagues my mind. I should have tried to hide with a peasant or two until this treacherous act blew over or married a nobleman’s family in a neighboring town. Mentally I chastise myself as the thunderous noise draws closer and closer. Why am I so rash?

My heart hurts, it clenches in around itself as I look up into the shimmering moon hanging low in the sky. In a bed of thorns I lie, blood from wounds of my own and from my father still flows down my body, exhaustion overtakes me finally. I’m entangled, suffocating in the sharp spikes that pierce my body, choking me from the freedom I so desire. I can’t move my muscles, my body tense and sore, my feet blistered and cold. I’m weary. A tear rolls out of my eye and falls onto my dirty cheek as I snap my orbs tightly closed, the horses almost upon me, I think as I hiccup a sob.

All of a sudden, the boisterous noise of what sounded like a hundred horses pounding toward me, stops. I suck in a breath and prepare for the worst. An eye for an eye, right? So they should slit my throat like I did to father.

It is my turn to die.

“Little bird,” a soft, steady tenor of a voice purrs out above me that I don’t recognize. My eyes fly open, revealing a glowing torch light and a few handsome faces I cannot place hanging around me. “It seems you’ve flown far from your nest.” He simpers, flames dancing off his puffy lips as he gently brushes a stray hair away from my unkempt face. He shows no disgust, only empathy as he gazes upon me trapped in this tangle of wild thicket.

I flinch as the long thorn branches I have ensnared myself in are being removed from my shivering body. The other boys, I’m unsure of how many surround me, take extreme caution, trying not to harm me as they pull the plants off of me.

“Are you from Royaume des Diamants (Kingdom of Diamonds)?” His puffy, pink lips utter quietly in the night. I stare at his sculpted face, admiring his accent as I feel like the terrors of the darkness are melting away with his soft speech. I say nothing but look up into the rich eyes that seem to glow a golden-amber shade in the torch light. They bewitch me and I am in awe. “Little bird?” His perfect brows twist into an expression of concern and I take a moment to glance away from his otherworldly face and to his other features for a second.

Dressed in rich purple with gold medals hanging from his broad shoulders, I can tell he was from a family of prestige. His lips are giant and lush but they are not out of place on his pale face. He appears to be a prince from those fairy tales I’ve heard so much about from the stories my brothers have told me since I was a babe. His dark hair envelopes his face, curling just at the ends, making him look far younger than I am sure he is. They finish uncovering me from the thorns and all gaze upon me covered in blood, dirt, sweat - looking positively disheveled - the farthest thing from a princess.

“Hyung,” a deep bass speaks from behind the broad shouldered noble-man, “she’s shivering.” A tan boy with thick eyebrows observes above me. His velvety voice makes my cold body feel warm with the way his timbre seems to echo off the wood of the trees around me.

“I know you are probably frightened and it looks like you have been through a lot…” The prince-like man holds an arm out for me to take. “...and even though your lips don’t speak, I do not wish for you to freeze out here in the wood.” The boys surrounding me shake their heads in agreement with the handsome one speaking. “Will you come with us, little bird?”

I don’t want to die and I don’t want to die out here in the cold night. Even if they want to hurt me or worse, I don’t want to die frozen to death in the thicket. Somehow, I don’t think they are bad men, but my threshold of trust was high due to the internal struggle I faced with my family. Still, I feel oddly comforted by the seven who are mostly quiet above me.

As I go to speak - to tell them ‘yes’, opening my lips slowly, nothing comes out. Not a peep or a squeak I can utter. The boys share looks of confusion at my lack of acknowledgment. My orbs flit from one handsome face to the next. Are they all princes wearing the same cloaks of purple and gold? I register you all, I swear I think in my mess of a mind. My body is too exhausted, not being able to do anything but nod once.

That’s all they needed to collect me it seems.

“Come, little bird.” The soft voice purrs again as I am being propped up gingerly, carefully by one of the boys around me. I lull my head against his warm body, a blanket or a cloak (I haven’t a clue which) was placed upon my dirty body. This boy is strong, not struggling to hold me up in the slightest I think as my eyelids flutter. I look up to him. He has long, black-as-night curly hair that falls around his neck, smiling tenderly down at me, his nose is long and rounded at the tip, a little mole under his lip catching my eyes that flutter more and more with every breath I take. Sleep was overtaking my body now that I know I am safe. “We will take you to a place where you will not suffer any longer.”

And with that affirmation, I nestle closer in the arms of the strong, young boy, believing the prince-like voice that hums a sweet lullaby. I yawn while he continues stroking my matted, tangled hair as I fall fast asleep against this stranger's chest.

I miss the seven smiles and nods, drinking me in with their sparkling amber gazes.

---------

PART TWO

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tumblingdowntheway2019 · 3 years

Text

Sleepless Nights, Part Two (2).

Hello my lovelies, how are we today?

💕🤗💕

As promised, here is part two (2) of Sleepless Nights. If you have not read the first part yet, I shall link it here.

WARNING: BELOW THE CUT, THIS POST WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERS, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION/PTSD/PANIC ATTACKS/GORE, CHILD TRAUMA, TRAUMATIC EVENTS, ETC.

I MAY NOT BE GOOD AT WRITING THESE BUT EVEN THEN, IT IS BETTER TO WARN YOU JUST IN CASE.

Now then. Let's continue, shall we?

DONNA'S P.O.V (IN THE DREAM)

Unlike their parents, her sister did not hold a look of anger or malice. Instead, she stood there as radiant as ever.

It almost looked as if Bernadette had a soft glow around her as she gave of a radiant smile to Donna.

Almost as if a gentle breeze had blown, the entrance to the Beneviento Estate blew open.

Almost as if she were a statue, Bernadette did not react as all as she glides backward and through the doors. Her dress blowing gently in the unseen breeze.

Donna followed close behind as she called her sister's name, jumping down the steps and toward the path in front of her.

The faster the girl ran, the faster her sister seemed to have gotten as well.

As soon as she got to the outside elevator, Bernadette was gone. With no choice but to continue, Donna proceeds downward.

Halfway down the elevator shaft, a sudden scream was heard, scaring the girl as she tucked herself into the furthest corner and covering her head and ears.

A soft jolt indicated that it stopped, but Donna did not want to leave. She may have seen what was to come next before, but she was never prepared for what lies ahead.

She can't wake herself up. She desperately wanted to wake up. But she can't!

Another scream. Donna knew she has no choice in this nightmare and stood.

She saw the wooden doors that lead to the gardener's huts, then a suspension bridge and straight to Potter's Field and Garden.

The closer to the door Donna got, the clearer the sound of tearing flesh alongside the moans and groans got.

Pausing at the door, Donna took a different approach rather than go straight through the door. She wished she just ran past them.

The gravestone was no longer there. Instead, a massive clump of tumor lumps and tendrils with limbs stood in it's place.

The limbs and tendrils twitch violently with every gag the creature took. If it weren't for the torn pattern on the dress, Donna would not have know who that was.

A flock of crows appear and fused together to create a form of a woman. She wore dark robes, with black feathers and a golden bird head shaped mask.

"M-m-Mother Miranda....I-I-I did as you a-asked." It spoke.

"No.... Bernadette." Donna almost chokes out.

But she wasn't quiet enough.

Miranda shot her head up in Donna's direction, instantly spotting the young girl peaking through the letter box.

With a single finger, Mother Miranda pointed toward the girl as a silent order for the monster to pursue her.

Donna had no choice this time than to run back toward the elevator and upwards. The wooden door slamming open and the elevator began to ascend.

She bolts straight out and upward.

In a terrifying twist of fate or worse imagined scenario, her bloated and drowned father made his way out the basement and began stumbling towards her.

Her mother was fidgety in her movements, a stumble to the left here, a jolt forward immediately after it.

Donna made her way toward her right, up past many trees and up the path. Nearly and actually losing her footing over the tree roots and stones.

It felt like forever before Donna found herself at the top of the waterfall.

They say that if you get killed in your dream, then you would also die in the waking world too.

She turned to see all three (3) of her family member's grotesque form coming closer.

Taking a few steps back, Donna used the extra space to bolt off the edge of the cliff and fall toward the water below.

But halfway down, a huge murder of crows began to swarm around her. Swirling around her that she saw nothing but pitch black feathers.

A tight grip on her wrist startled her. Donna turned to look and saw Miranda, who's form was protruding from amongst the crows.

Extending her other arm, Donna saw the Cadou in Miranda's grip, placing it over her eye.

That's when she woke up, panting and sweating. It felt all to real.

She got up to go to the bathroom to change, hoping that the cool water will settle her racing thoughts.

As she soaked her face in water, a distinct growl was heard. She reluctantly looks at the mirror and saw ... Nothing but herself.

Her Cadou was completely flat now, nothing but it's shape remained. Along it's edges was where her older scar was barely visible. But her eye was now fused shut and no longer visible, but Donna didn't care now that the curse was gone.

Believing it to be the drain, she looked down to turn off the running water.

Before looking up again to Bernadette's Cadou mutilated form charging up into view!

LADY DIMITRISCU'S P.O.V

Lady Dimitrescu was now standing outside of her chambers, focusing on sharpening her hearing to get a better sense of where the whimper came from.

A few tense seconds go by, before she heard another one coming from her right. Or below her? She follows the noise.

Lady Dimitriscu strides downstairs, more worried than anything, but kept a calm demeanor upon her face.

She listens again when she had reached the row of chambers below hers. Another whimper was heard, echoing slightly, in the large bathroom located at the very end of the hallway.

And a very faint smell of blood.

With fear rising, The Lady of the Castle rushes toward the bathroom door and forces her way in, ready to attack whoever dared invade her castle and dare to try harm her daughters.

Instead she was met with a pitiful sight.

There, laying curled up in the corner of the room with her arms over her head and knees tucked in, was Donna.

The mother within Lady Dimitriscu took over as she rushes to the young woman, who refused to even leave the safety of the fetal position.

Alcina tried to coax her out of it, but Donna wouldn't budge. Instead she kept repeating, "My fault, it was my fault. They're right."

The mother held back tears as she gently placed a hand on Donna's shoulder. The latter having nearly scrambled back further into the wall.

She quickly realised it was Lady Dimitriscu.

The crouching 9ft 6 tall woman nearly fell back onto her back with the force the smaller woman jumped at her with.

She quickly embraced her back in assurance that everything was ok. She was there and she won't leave her down here alone.

The smell of blood was stronger now, causing the vampire lady to quickly examine the room. This was when she notices the broken mirror with thin blood trailing downward and along the cracks.

Motherly instincts took over as she gently pushed Donna back to get a better look at her.

It was heartbreaking, the poor woman breathing was hitching while trying to catch her breath.

Her white gown had splotches of red liquid on it, but mainly on the front and right sleeve.

Without another word, Lady Dimitriscu gently scoops the Doll Maker up, grabbing some cloths and another clean gown as she leaves the bathroom to take her back to her chambers.

Back in the chambers, the women were now sitting on the huge bed. Donna's injured hand was hovering over a cloth and basin of water as her adoptive mother gently removes the remaining shards of glass out of her hand.

Poor girl didn't even flinch. Just sat there, curled up with her head on her knees with her uninjured arm wrapped around them.

The wound now treated and bandaged, Lady Dimitriscu gently asked what happened.

It was here that tears were shed by the Lady, as Donna recounts her nightmares, a few hiccups and pausing in between to choke back tears

The part that finally had Lady Dimitriscu in tears now was when Donna admitted that there were many times she followed in her parents footsteps in their demise.

Many a times did she find herself of the waterfalls edge, looking into the the mist that hid the jagged rocks below.

Even after the events with Mother Miranda, she found herself there with what she thought was nothing to lose.

When she finished, Alcina took a moment to let it sink in. The fact that it had actually been going in for a MONTH was horrible and brought up a lot of guilt for not noticing sooner.

She quickly pulls the Doll Maker into a protective yet loving embrace that a mother can give. Apologising profusely for not noticing and the promise of always being there.

It was then Lady Dimitriscu clicked that a month ago, Donna had talked about her family and their demise. The poor girl had yet to actually accept that it happened and talking about it brought in the horrible guilt.

She felt the small hands grip onto her arm, it was... desperate? No, in fear of letting go.

It felt like forever before Donna looked up at her mother again, tears staining down her even more paler cheeks.

Once again, motherly instincts had The Lady gently wipe the away with her thumbs, as Donna leaned her head into the bigger hand. Which meant that thankfully, she was calmer now.

Alcina knew this meant that Donna will now be now submitting to her instincts to become mute and elusive again for a while. But it was ok, she will always stay nearby to assure her daughter that she is there when she is needed.

She finally let go of all her bottled up emotions, frustrations and fears that now meant that the path to recovery can finally begin.

Alcina noticed Donna's heavy eye closing and leaning into her hand more. She places the medical equipment and clothes onto the cabinet beside the bed, before positioning herself to lean against the pillows and pulling Donna into an embrace before turning off the oil lamp.

And so for the first time in a month, the Weaver finally had a peaceful slumber, wrapped up in the protective and loving embrace of the Dragon's wings.

____________________

As promised my lovelies, Part Two (2) of Sleepless Nights.

The reason behind this was to bring up awareness that just because someone who experienced traumatic events, mental illnesses or had thoughts of/attempted suicide, etc, may seem happy, that may very well may not be the case permanently.

Those sort of things will always lay dormant and all it takes is a simple trigger to bring about those thoughts all over again.

As was the case with Donna here.

But it may also effect those closest to you because the could end up feeling so guilty in not being able to help and not noticing. Even if it's just by listening.

As I had said before, I may not be the best writer, but I did want to bring some awareness about the dangers and effects of mental health.

Remember guys, you are not alone. Yes, the world ain't all dark clouds and rain, but it also ain't all sunshine and rainbows either. It's those little rays of sunshine that makes all the difference to one's day really.

There will always be one person who will be there to listen, as will I.

💕🤗💕 💪😎💕

There will be one more part to this, but it won't be called "Sleepless Nights". I'll get that out as soon as I can in the coming days.

If you wish to use the H.Cs for art, stories and such, always feel free to! All I ask in return is credit for the H.Cs and to be tagged to see it when it is done! 💕🤗💕

Love you guys and I hope you have a pleasant morning/afternoon/evening/night. 💪😎💕

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #donna beneviento #resident evil #video games #alcina dimitrescu #re8 headcanons #headcanon #awareness #mental heath awareness #family dynamic

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spaceasianmillennial · 3 years

Text

Part 5: Home

Summary: Alucard and Sypha give Trevor Belmont a bath... with soap.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

The sun shimmered and he awoke to the sound of her breathing, a warm wind upon his cheek and jaw. When he yawned and fluttered his eyelids, there she was, eyes crinkled with exhaustion but her lips curled into a smile, a deep relief that she was not dreaming and Trevor Belmont was there. Minutes passed between their gazing. He wanted to say something, something to light up a bigger smile and assure himself that he was real as well. If he could lift his right arm, he'd twirl his finger in her hair.

"Sypha, I've been thinking."

"What, Treffy?"

"What if I'm not Trevor Belmont?"

"Hmmm?" She paused. "Well, I did wonder if you were a beastie in disguise."

"What if I'm an incubus?"

Now her face wrinkled into playful disapproval, as if processing this as yet another one of his crude joke that hadn't sunk into her Speaker brain. She would know of incubi, they went through a rundown of beasts in the Belmont library before they hit the road together.

"What if I'm an incubus who shapeshifted into the form of Trevor Belmont and was sent to seduce you and infiltrate this human village?"

She seemed to be in on the joke, but the way her brows lifted indicated that she was trying to dissect some hidden meaning.

"If you're an incubus come to seduce me, well, you're doing a good job dressing up like Trevor Belmont and being all crude and getting on my nerves. I have to hand it to you. If you keep up this ruse, I might not mind spending the rest of my life with you. Keep up the ruse and I won't kill you, incubus." She patted his jaw.

But there was something he did not tell her. That incubus thing was a joke between his mother and father. "Your father never touched me. He had to have been an incubus. He must have killed Gabriel Belmont, took his shape and skin, and came to the Belmont Hold to seduce me. And I didn't care. Your father never touched me so I rather an incubus love me than not. It took having human children to convince me that it was Gabriel."

"Belmont, can you chew, or shall I spoonfeed you?" Alucard opened the cover, releasing the steamy scent made Trevor's mouth water. Trout with some lettuce leaves. Finally, something that wasn't broth.

"I'm not letting you spoonfeed me. Let Sypha spoonfeed me."

"Suit yourself, Belmont. By the way, Greta, the headwoman, wants to speak with you later this evening. So there's something we need to do with you. Just, don't panic."

"What?" He was expecting more experimental painkillers leaves to chew on.

"Belmont, as he said, don't panic," Sypha added, her expression mildly sour as if preparing for the worse.

"You're going to react," warned Alucard.

"Ok."

"We have to give you a bath, Belmont."

"Ok."

Alucard's expression remained unmoved. "With soap, Belmont."

"Ok."

Alucard lifted his brow. "You're not... repulsed? I figured you were so comfortable in your own filth and stink for eons that soap repels you the way silver and close-up crosses do to a vampire." Even Sypha seemed to raise her brows with skepticism. Trevor Belmont, not repelled by soap.

"Oh haha. Soap is not my weakness, hahaha."

"Belmont, will you be okay with me carrying you into the tub?"

Trevor finally pegged down what Alucard was implying, what the vampire did not want to say out loud. That the task of bathing Trevor Belmont would involve Alucard carrying said Belmont--naked--into the tub.

It was not the most ideal situation, to be carried naked by a man both your vampire adversary and your battle compatriot, but the benefits of not lying in his stink and unwashed wounds outweigh the cost of subjecting Sypha--and himself--to his scent. It would be as practical as your war comrade needing to tear your clothing to tend to a wound. Sypha had to endure weeks without him, so she deserved a less scruffy Belmont to make love to her.

"Whatever you need to do, Alucard. You're the doctor."

There was even one attribute of Lord Dracula that the Belmont family respected as they deemed Dracula Tepes as a serious threat. Lord Tepes was a man who understood that technology was magic in itself.

There sat a large porcelain basin standing on four golden lion-claw legs. A tube and knobs protruded from a wall. Sypha turned on these knobs and water-- "captured rainwater," Alucard explained--poured out. Sypha snapped up sparks of fire onto the coals beneath the basin to heat it up.

Sypha helped loosen the drawstrings of Trevor's trousers.

And so Alucard lifted him. The gesture was a clinical affair for a man raised by a doctor and far from the manners of a man who lifts his lover to the bridal chamber, yet Trevor swore he saw some tints on the vampire's cheeks as he lowered him into the warm water but the thought washed away as the warm water wrapped and sloshed him in its warmth.

"How do you feel?" Sypha asked.

"Better." The hot water embraced his numbing arm and he flexed his stiff fingers. When was the last time he bathed? He fondly remembered those times climbing into the cool lakewater with Sypha. He could detect that memory in Sypha's sly eyes and the curve of her lips whenever she wanted him badly. She took a soapy washcloth and began scrubbing his arm, his pits, his neck. She squeezed the water onto his hair and scrubbed it with sweet-smelling soap in circular motions. She winked at him before she reached deeper to draw the cloth at his pelvis and electricity shot up against his body.

"I sure miss looking at that body of yours, Trevor. I was wondering how I was going to live without that body for the next decades of my life."

He was aware that Alucard was sitting right there, just idly reading a book.

"You could join me," Trevor offered, loudly, to pester Alucard.

She smirked. "Another day, Belmont."

When she judged him pristine enough, she yanked the plug and the water drained into a pipe connected to the floor. He dried himself and she slid on him a long nightshirt that went down to his knees. Alucard carried him out and they helped him back to the bedroom.

This nightshirt, satin and smooth, felt so comfortable that it didn't feel right.

Greta sat in an armchair, uptight and professional.

"We've met, Trevor Belmont, but now's a great time for a proper reintroduction. I had a great deal of time to get to know Sypha. She's wise. She's very eager to help out. She's been great help sorting out the preserved herbs in the castle. So if there's anything you need or any suggestions you have or anything you want to contribute, you can go to me--or send for me. After all, you are a man of knowledge. We might have to consult you for many things."

"Well you got the books for that. Centuries worth of research down my family line, down from Leon Belmont."

"Yes. And you yourself must have knowledge that wouldn't be documented in the books."

Knowledge. It felt gratifying and he reminded himself to boast about it to Sypha, who was sitting by and observing the conversation. That someone came to him for knowledge, that word, as if he were a scholar.

Alucard, the bastard, must have clocked his thoughts and had to chime in, "Careful Greta, I don't think Belmont gets these kinds of compliments, let alone earn them."

Trevor continued on, "I understand your people of Danesti have grown fond of the libraries."

"A lot of them were excited to explore through to their hearts' content. They even asked Alucard if they could take some of the books home to Danesti. Some volunteered to stay back and be transcribers as well to bring it back to Danesti. Then it became clear that our lives would improve if we stayed around. For one, they didn't want to leave the graves of their loved ones and there were bodies to move, but two, they didn't want to leave behind knowledge that could very well save their children's lives."

"Which one do they seem to like better? The boring books about medicine and cosmos in Dracula's castle? Or the books about monster-slaying in the Belmont hold?"

The headwoman smirked at him. She seemed to have figured that he wanted something to rub in Alucard's face.

"I say the adults like them both equally but the kids look through the Belmont books more." Alucard gave her a furtive glare. "I think I'm more preferential to your books, Belmont. But anyway, I also wanted to meet with you because, while this is my village, this is also your land, and your library, as well and you should have input in how you want your home to be respected."

Home. Trevor felt tempted to slump down. He never quite wanted to go back and felt disconnected from the idea that this was his land. While he would technically be its heir, he never harbored real ownership when he bequeathed the lands to Alucard. It had been taken from him and that was that. It made a nice visiting place, or a place to restock weapons or retrieve research, but living among the ghosts and ruins was another weighty matter. Once something had been stolen by the zealous and bloodcurling priests, it could never be given back.

"We look forward to having you in our new town of Belmont, Trevor Belmont."

Having you. No one really asked him to stay. He was just expected to stay. He simply nodded.

"Great, as long as you don't name it Treffy."

Greta's eyes darted at Alucard and Trevor was sure that bastard vampire suggested that dreaded name to her.

She gave a head bow. When she and Alucard left, Trevor clocked the way Greta touched Alucard's shoulder, reminding him of the way his mother danced her fingers on Father's shoulders or when married relatives would rub their significant other's shoulder.

Sypha stroked his hand. "Greta likes you. That's good."

"She's trustworthy?" He liked Greta at first sight, had her pegged as a dutiful leader and someone who worked for her people. But God, anyone these days could be playing nice. God, they didn't want to get ensnared in a Judge situation again.

"She brought her people there to the castle to protect them. She listens to them. She... doesn't talk cheerfully about flogging her people. She and Alucard founded this village so they can have better things, including books and schools." She smiled, as if sensing his caution. "She... checks out."

Glad to know she's likely no child murderer. "If I doubt Alucard's judgment, then I trust Sypha Belnades's judgment," he announced. He wanted a moment to talk to her, about the idea of staying, but he decided that would wait, perhaps when his body no longer ached.

His eyes followed the seams. His finger traced over the patched area. He had finished mending his tunic. He figured that steadying a needle and thread could bring back some precision to his still numbing right arm. Alucard and Sypha brought him clothing from the Belmont hold, where he once acquired the meteorite-dark utility tunics with his knife-wielding cuffs. Now he had nothing else to do but to swat at any passing gnat.

His eyes fell on the open books at the nightstand, books that Sypha had been reading.

And then he reached for a book. He flipped idly around the text and illustrations of the sun, moon, and stars. He liked illustrations. Usually, he'll look at them and his mother would read to them. He already knew which creature tends to appear in a full moon or a dark moon or a crescent moon, which creature is powered by daylight (ironically), and which came out during certain constellations. But for the first time in eons, Trevor Belmont read about the stars.

–

Next up: Trevor *gasp* reading.

–> PART 6

COMMENTS OR REBLOGS APPRECIATED

The more refined version of this story is developing on Archive of Our Own

Check out my other fanfic on AO3

Tip me on Ko-fi or leave a comment

#trepha #sypha belnades #trevor belmont #castlevania #trephacard #greta

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creamypudding · 3 years

Text

Excerpt

For the probably four people who enjoy my Clack | AkuRoku mashup stories... I’m gonna feed you so damn hard with the Ocean in Your Veins series. I’m so damn excited to bring it to you XD Mind you... I need to write part 2 first. And then part 3.

I did finish the 1st draft of chapter 1 of part 2 though. It’s got me eager to keep writing more. Have a juicy excerpt!

All the context you need for this is that Zack (going by Zak’kusu in the first chapter) is a fish creature, same as Axel (think Sidon from BotW or the fish monster from Shape of Water). Zack wants to be human so he can make eyes at Cloud (Roxas’ brother, because duh) and Zack’s finally found a way to make it happen and has invited himself over to Roxas’ house where it all will go down.

“Axel. Don’t do that. Not here. Not now.” Roxas tugs on Axel’s arms.

There comes a knock at the door.

All eyes land on it.

“Rox, are you okay? I forgot my wet-suit,” comes Cloud’s voice.

“Both of you, out. Now!” Roxas whispers with a harsh edge at the ch’ta and points to the door with a furious scowl. “I'm fine. It's just the TV. Hang on. I'll turn it down!” He calls out and twitches on the TV before he heads to the door.

Axel makes for the backdoor. He chitters at Zak'kusu. Zak'kusu, however, doesn’t want to go. He’s annoyed at Roxas’ attitude. Roxas would have never talked to Cloud about him. It boils his blood. He will talk to Cloud one way or another. But he still hopes that the magic spell will kick in. And soon. He glares at Axel, takes a step to the wall, and opens the first door that he sees. He ducks, so as not to knock his head, steps through to tiled flooring, and casts a glare behind himself at the other two occupants of the house.

Axel lets out a displeased click.

“Go. Leave him and go,” Roxas whispers and waves in a shoo’ing motion across the living space.

Axel leaves. The backdoor shuts. The bathroom door shuts. The front door opens.

“Hey. Are you sure you left it here? I thought you packed everything after our dive this morning.”

Zak'kusu finds himself in the bathroom. He stays bowed as he’s much too tall for this space. It’s dark in here. The moonlight filters through the diffused bathroom window and paints everything in a cool blue hue. He spots the mirror by the basin, walks over, and leans down until he can see himself in the mirror. Even in the gloom, he can see how his face remains unchanged. Except he’s covered in green goop. He clutches the basin in his hands. His claws dig in and something cracks. Why is it taking so long? He whispers the enchantment to himself again and glowers. It’s even more frustrating with Cloud just outside the door. He hears the two humans talk.

A tap comes at the window. He leans over and opens it. More light streams in. Axel’s on the other side. His spines are up.

‘What is your problem? Get out of there!’ he snarls.

“I’m not leaving until I’ve talked to Cloud.”

‘You’re insane. Cloud can’t see you like that’

“I’ll turn human in a minute. I know I will.”

‘It’s not going to happen. Aerith told you shit to get you to stop annoying her. That’s all that green goop is’ Axel’s lower half of his face is almost the same red as his forehead. His teeth are bared. ‘Get out’

“I can’t fit through the window. I’m much too—whoa” Zak'kusu steadies himself. He feels weird. His skin’s all tingly. The room looks bigger. Axel’s mouth hangs open. His eyes stare wide.

Voices from beyond the door draw near—

“I’m pretty sure I left it in the bathtub.”

“No, it’s not! It’s down by the boat,” comes Roxas’ frantic response.

“Let me just check—”

The light comes on. Axel disappears from the window. Zak'kusu whirls around. He stares. Cloud’s standing there, hand poised on the door handle and the other on the light switch. Zak'kusu can't see anything but those big sky-blue eyes that stare at him. See him. Finally see him again. It is him. Zak'kusu is sure of it now.

Eyes dart off him. Cloud's mouth flaps. Some sort of sound comes out of him. Zak'kusu forgets to breathe. He tries to chirp in greeting. No sound comes out.

“I’m so sorry!” Cloud flees and shuts the door.

Zak'kusu’s left in the empty bathroom. The light’s still on.

“I… I… I can explain everything! Please don’t freak out,” comes Roxas’ hasty words.

“Why is there a naked man in your bathroom?” Cloud sounds breathless.

Zak'kusu turns back around to the mirror. He stumbles. He grabs the sink. He startles. His hands! He looks at himself in the reflection. He jerks with another start. Pale! He’s all pink and pale. He touches his face. Smooth. Smooth and flat. He pinches the end of his nose. So squishy and weird. His eyes are so small. His spines… he runs his hand through his… hair! He has hair! Thick. Dark. Black. His eyes are blue. He thumbs over the scar on his cheek with a scowl. He can still hear Cloud outside. With a deep breath, and a grin so big it hurts his cheeks, he turns and takes running—stumbling—steps toward the door. His body feels all weird and uncoordinated. He slams into the door. His grasp on the handle slips. He gets it and yanks it open. He beams and steps out into the living room. A laugh leaves him as he sees Roxas and Cloud.

He tries to say something. His words stick in his throat. He switches to human language. Still nothing comes out.

Cloud’s averting his gaze. Roxas looks as red as a lobster. “Get back inside and put a towel over yourself,” comes the feral shout.

Zak'kusu doesn’t understand what Roxas is mad about. He’s human. Everything is fine. He tries to say as much.

Roxas continues to point angrily at him. “Towel! Now!”

Zak'kusu looks down at himself. He twitches. He’s grossly pale and pink everywhere. He turns around and goes back to the bathroom. He’s naked. Is that what the humans are upset about? He supposes he’s never seen a human naked. But he’s always been naked in front of Roxas. It’s something he’s never thought about until now. He grabs one of the white towels and throws it over his head. He can’t see but carefully makes his way back, feeling around for the wall. He comes back out to hear—

“What is going on?” Cloud asks, a cautious yet distressing hitch in his voice.

"Look, I can totally explain this—oh my god, Zack, you moron!”

Zak'kusu can’t see anything except for the white towel covering his face. He feels a tug. The towel comes off.

“Around your waist like this,” Roxas snaps.

Zak'kusu holds the towel in place like Roxas shows him and watches Roxas walk into the bathroom. He turns back and looks at Cloud. Cloud is right there. So close. So much bigger looking up close. He looks so lovely. Zak'kusu doesn't know why his voice isn’t working. He tries to say something. His throat vibrates. Strangled sounds leave him.

Roxas brushes past again, something dark in his hands. “Here is your wet-suit.” He hands it to Cloud.

“Can you please explain who this strange naked man is and what he’s doing in your house? Do we need to call the cops?” Cloud keeps a wary eye on Zak'kusu.

Roxas groans. “This is Zack. He’s… he’s…” Roxas stares at Zak'kusu. He looks back at Cloud, the scowl now replaced with a smile. He laughs. “He’s an intern from MU. He’s a lighthouse tech and is going to be living with me and helping me with my thesis. He’s from the north so has some experience in and knowledge about the ecology of colder climates. You know how I’m studying the special properties of plankton and I think I can get more insight about it when comparing findings from the northern pole and how it compares to the warmer climate around Costa Del Sol. Isn’t that right, Zack?” Roxas glares at him.

Zak'kusu smiles with all his teeth. His lips feel funny. He tries to tone it down. Cloud’s giving him a funny look. He nods.

“Why isn’t he saying anything?” Cloud whispers in a poor attempt to be discreet.

“He isn’t a native speaker. He’s… a bit shy about speaking.”

“Oh. Okay… but… why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? I was just here this morning. He wasn’t here,” Cloud says quietly, holding the wet-suit in front of himself like a protective blanket.

“I… uh… I wasn’t expecting him until next week. I was going to bring it up closer to the time. But he came by early. Wanted to get settled in before starting his work. Isn’t that right, Zack?”

Zak'kusu nods again. He can’t stop smiling. He can’t believe it worked. He’s human! He feels the need to trill. A squeak leaves him.

“Okay, well… I’m… going to go now.” Cloud backs up with slow steps, not turning around as he goes.

Zak'kusu waves eagerly. The towel drops. Roxas snaps and yells at Zak'kusu. Cloud turns and hurries out.

“See you, Rox. Bye… Zack,” he says and shuts the door.

A laugh bursts out of Zak'kusu. Cloud said his name… well… sort of. He could burst with joy. He laughs harder.

The next chapter will be challenging as Zack gets used to human life. It’s going to be so fun exploring things through his clueless lens. Any input/suggestions/bright ideas on what Zack might see or do or experience is totally welcomed as I’m cobbling this together.

#ocean in your veins #excerpt #chapter 1 #zack fair #cloud strife #Axel #roxas #axel as a fish-man #zack is a fish-man #clack #zakkura #akuroku

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benisasoftboi · 3 years

Text

Unorganised thoughts on Trails of Cold Steel IV:

WHY ARE THEY CALLED CLASS VII?

WHO ARE CLASS VI?

Anyway - I started playing Trails in August, and I’ve finally, finally caught up (yes I know Hajimari I can’t read Japanese) and like... what do I do now?

It’s a fantastic series and I’m so, so glad I picked up Trails in the Sky on a whim last summer

This game was long. Is it longer than the other ones? It felt that way

The best part was the first chapter because Rean wasn’t in it and yeah I still don’t like him!!! But seriously, it was astonishing how much more I was enjoying things without him

I audibly groaned when goddamn bonding points returned in the second chapter

Actually that was a lie, the best part was Any Time My Angel Estelle Was On Screen

I missed her so much

I let her get the final hit of the game against the boss because she’s the best

Speaking of angels I caught three Wazy cameos!!!

Also Gilbert came back and if there had been a camera on me... I quite literally teared up a little I was so thrilled

I hate the curse it is dumb and rips all the nuance out of the characters. People do not need a goddamn evil curse to be swayed to extremes by overzealous nationalism. Trails I know you are better than this, I played Sky and Crossbell

Fav new location was Milsante (liked Alster too, though). I really like going to tiny little outposts and villages in JRPGs, they make the world feel more real

What the hell was up with the Osgiliath Basin? As in, Giliath Osborne??? Is this going to be a Hajimari thing?

Oh yeah, HOT TAKE, Alan Richard >>> Giliath Osborne. I was reading an LP of Sky FC while playing the game, and Richard’s motivation is clearer and less over-complex, more sympathetic, and he’s just generally a far more human character

Alan Richard best political antagonist in the series fight me (Rufus Albarea distant second)

For best supernatural/cult-y antagonist I’m stuck between Weissmann and Joachim. Or maybe Campanella lol

Oh uh speaking of characters named Georg I will never not hate everything about the George and Angie subplot. Angie should have died and George should have stayed evil, or it shouldn’t have happened at all. As it is, it was a complete waste of time - you could take it all out and NOTHING would change

Angie would have been the perfect character to sacrifice as well, she’s just important enough that it would feel like ‘oh shit’s getting real’ but not so important that it’s unbelievable

(like Olivier. I could not fully believe they’d actually kill him, and the moment Laura told me ‘they never found the bodies’ I was like, oh, so they’re definitely all still alive, cool)

I mean, it would be a Bury Your Gays, but honestly... there are things I like about Angie, but is anyone really looking to her as a lesbian role model? I hope not. Yikes

So yeah I guess I hate George now for getting my hopes up and then being boring. Shame

I did the Towa romantic ending, of course. I genuinely think she’s the best match for Rean, of all his love interests

Chaaaracters

Rean: Still the least interesting person. Not a good sign when I’m sadder about the robot dying than the main protagonist yeeting himself into the sun (side note, the two endings thing? Unnecessary and dumb). There is no reason girls would like him this much, blah blah I’ve said it all before. Liked his new hair. Honestly would have respected it if they’d had the balls to kill him off. I basically never even used him in battle lol, Juna became my new team leader

Juna: Honourary protagonist imo. I’ve changed my mind since CS3, she’s my fav new Class VII without a doubt. She’s just really good and full of personality and depth and OH GOD WHY IS SHE CRUSHING ON REAN WHY FALCOM WHY

Kurt: pls falcom don’t try to force this aroace king into a nonsense ship with Sully I liked her but what are you doing, anyway Kurt is great and he got cool new swords and he got to hang out with Mueller, who I adore, I love Kurt

Altina: I also love this little bunny. Her relationship with Millium is so lovely and seeing her grow and become her own person made me so happy and OH GOD WHY IS SHE CRUSHING ON REAN WHY FALCOM I LITERALLY SAID SHE HAS THE BEST RELATIONSHIP WITH REAN OF ALL THE GIRLS BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T DO THAT IN THE LAST GAME WHY DO YOU HATE ME????

Musse: Yeah I’m still not sold on Musse but I liked her better this time! I like a smart, confident girl! Just stop being weird about your teacher and we’d be golden!

Ash: Good boy. Sweet boy. Ash and Joshua game now Falcom

Alisa: Still cannot believe she’s presented as the deuteragonist by the marketing - but you know what? Solid arc, she got some closure with her parents, maybe she and Jusis can get together for tea and complain about their messed up families. She’s never going to be a character I like all that much, but I don’t dislike her. I just wish she hadn’t clearly been written as ‘Rean’s love interest’ before anything else

Elliot: I love Elliot, I really do. I mean, I wish he hadn’t been flanderised to the point of speaking in music puns half the time, but he’s a solid, consistently pleasant character

Laura: Goddamnit Falcom please give Laura anything resembling an emotion regarding her dad dying. Also you tell me she’s kind of oblivious and stuff but we never see it. I like Laura but she really could have been more

Machias: I love Machias, fight me fan base. He’s so funny to me. It feels like, at this point, all he really wants is a nice office job, near a nice coffee shop, where he files papers and sometimes gets to yell at corrupt rich people, but NO, he has to run about in dungeons and fight monsters, and are you FUCKING kidding me, ANOTHER crazy snake cultist!?!? It’s great, he’s the only one who’s just done with it all and love it

I low key headcanon that he and Jusis are kinda dating at this point, but we don’t see anything because the games are from Rean’s POV and they don’t want to tell him because they know he’d be weird about it

Jusis: I still really like Jusis! He’s interesting, and his surrogate brother-sister relationship with Millium is so sweet (yes, I saw that bouquet catch, Falcom, and I hate it, stop it, gross). Awesome to see him confront his brother, obviously I let him have the final blow. Rufus was a great antagonist. Jusis has some of the best development over the games, and is also really fun to use in battle (apparently I am the only one who feels this way though :/ ah well)

Fie: I was surprised by how much I liked Fie’s confession scene, seeing as I don’t like Rean/Fie at ALL. Fie finally gets to have feelings about her dad, and we see her working with Zin at the end! Very happy for Fie, best girl

Emma: Ahhh I still find Emma kinda dull and exposition heavy, but she also had a nice arc, I liked her relationship with Rose, all good

Rose beat me at Vantage Masters for 40 minutes lol

Gaius: It’s still extremely funny to me that Gaius became one of the most important people on the continent *off screen*. And he still doesn’t really do anything. He has his own airship now, I guess. Justice for Gaius

Sara: Kind of faded from relevance after CS1, but I do really like her all the same. And I loved her speech at the end

Crow: At the end his hair got darker and everyone was like ‘you’re back to normal!’ and I literally did not realise he was meant to have been looking different

But anyway Crow is a really good character and I literally never didn’t enjoy him. I love the bit where Jusis and Machias team up to call him a cringy edgelord, because they are right. Crow is fantastic

Towa: Towa has never done anything wrong in her life and all of Erebonia should pay for her therapy

Patrick: I cannot believe how much I love Patrick now, compared to CS1. He’s just such a sweetie. Good boy

Elise: Take her to the sun with you, Rean. Pointless character

Alfin: Is she the heir now? I hope so. She’s such a funny character, not my fav, but I enjoyed her

Angie and George: Should have died, moving on

Celine: I love her, but did she really need a human form? No, no she did not. Great character though

Tita: Special mention, because you know what? I do not like this version of Tita! Like I said, I was reading FC recently and she was so much better there! Now a third of her lines are just her saying ‘Agate’ in various different tones. And it feels like she’s lost a lot of her confidence, where’s the little girl who followed us up Carnelia Tower? I would have preferred them to just not bring her back at all

Duvalie: Haha I love Duvalie she’s great. Stop implying that she’s crushing on Rean. Literally WHY would she. Ugh

Rose: Everything about Rose is great, I would play a full game about her backstory. More Rose

Ships!

Obviously I like Machias/Jusis because I am BASIC

I didn’t like Olivier/Schera back in Sky, but you know what? They sold me. It’s cute (even if I feel Schera’s character was neglected in favour of Being A Love Interest, sigh). Though I’m not sure when Olivier made the switch from ‘Schera is one of many people I flirt with’ to ‘Schera is my one and only’?

But am I the only person who’s kinda on the Oliver/Schera/Mueller train? I’m not normally into OT3s, but Olivier and Mueller have one of the best dynamics in the series, and Schera and Mueller would probably get along great if they were ever allowed to properly interact. And you know Olivier would be down

Like I say, I do not like Jusis/Millium at all, it’s not a ‘I like another ship better’ thing, it just massively skeeves me out because of the maturity difference

Ash/Tatiana was unexpected but adorable

Patrick/Elise, because I want Patrick to be happy and Rean to be mad

Also Elise/Alfin, sorry Patrick

I hope Anton and Sharon really do get together. Sharon deserves unconditional love and Anton deserves a happy ending

Sharon also deserves to hook up with Sara like once

I also sort of feel like Sara/Claire would be fun

I’ve actually like Gaius/Linde from CS1, I’m happy it’s kind of a thing now!

If Lila/Maybelle is the LET’S GO LESBIANS Trails ship, then Emily/Theresia is LET’S GO BABY LESBIANS

Vincent/Margarita. They’re both horrible people. At least this way no one else has to deal with them

Joining my Kloe/Josette in the ‘crack ships I love that have very, very little canon basis’ is Fritz/Kairi, based on their interactions in that one mission and then that they’re eating together at Mishelam. It’s pretty much just a height differences thing, lol

Miles/Elnan. I have literally no justification for this

Other stuff There was this one scene where Gaius says how nice it is that Mueller cares about Olivier and Mueller just snaps his head round and the scene ends, and I don’t think it was meant to be funny but I laughed for like a full minute

The intro to the music at Mishelam is extremely creepy to me

I love the Pom Party mini game a whole lot

There were... a lot of typos in the second half of the script. It’s massive, so I’m not mad, but I hope there’s a patch at some point

BERYL BERYL BERYL BERYL BERYL I love her

Uh if we’re still doing romance next arc please give us a gay option, no Crow did not count

I hate divine knight battles! I really do! That last one against Ishmelga was really hard and not in a fun way! In a ‘this is bullshit fake difficulty’ way. Please don’t bring them back!

The true final battle, though? FANTASTIC, now THAT is a final boss! One of the best in the series, like that’s such a fun gimmick!

I got it trapped in break state and spammed Heaven’s Kiss/Quick Star, because I’m a strategic gamer

I am embarrassed by how long it took me to recognise Lucy

KLOE CAMEO!!!

Oh and I assume Kaela is going to be important next arc, since it’s in Calvard?

I love Thomas??? And Rosine???

Why was the grandmaster reveal hidden behind watching the ending twice, why do that? Great scene, though

My theory is that she is Aidios, I will cling to this for as long as possible

I probably have like a million other things to say that I’m just not remembering right now. Look forward to random shouts into the void about it in upcoming weeks, followers

I really enjoyed this overall, despite the problems I mentioned above. It was just fun, I like the cast, the gameplay is great... just a solid game

Trails is a really fantastic franchise - not perfect, but what is? I’ve had such a fun time with it over the past half-year, and I cannot wait to see what happens next. Thank you, Falcom, the localisation team, the VAs - stellar job all around

This is normally where I’d end on a joke but like. Nah, I’m just happy. Cue ‘The Whereabouts of Light’

#long post #cold steel #cold steel 4 #trails of cold steel 4 #cs4 #cs4 spoilers #cold steel 4 spoilers #trails of cold steel #kiseki #kiseki series #trails series #:)

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birdwithavendetta · 4 years

Text

A New Creature Named Link

Hello! I am here to project onto Wild until it int Wild anymore! This is a self indulgent fic born from the fact that i feel like i can't share my interests with my friends without them making fun of me or getting bored, and my mother not really letting me stim...... this should be fun!

I'm changing wild’s age because I'm 15, and I want to, so he's 15 now.

expect some fluffy angst(eventually), cuz that's what I'm good at.

When he awoke, first awoke, he felt nothing, remembered nothing, heard nothing but the voice speaking to him, much too loud in his head. It was calling a name, a name he suspected was his name, repeating it over and over again.

"Link"

Feeling came to 'link' in a rush. He hated it. It was cold, and in a bad way. The room buzzed and hummed and echoed, despite the fact that he was under what felt almost like water. But it wasn't water, the strange water around him was too thick and too smooth at the same time. It felt wrong against his skin.

The voice that woke him was still too loud inside his head. He recognized it, but had no idea why. He could tell it was a woman, he felt like he should know her.

But he didn't.

She was begging him to open his eyes. Begging him to wake up.

No matter how much he wanted it to, his body refused to move. Even as the strange water slid against his skin, draining down tubes somewhere above his head, he couldn't grit his teeth like he wanted to, he couldn't throw himself away from it trying to wipe it off his arms.

Only once most of it was gone, and the rest of it was evaporating all too fast on his skin, making the horrid cold worse, could he open his eyes.

Link shot up, stumbling out of the black stone basin, trying to shake off the feeling of the not-water. An ache in his chest made itself known....... An ache that link realised was from not being able to breathe, but he was breathing, the echo of links panicked breaths hissed in his ears. Strange, and not at all how breathing should sound. He was breathing, why did it feel like he wasn't, why did it ache like that if there was air moving through his lungs, he shouldn't feel like he wasn't breathing at all.

Wrapping his arms around himself, in a vain attempt to keep the air in his lungs. Link closed his eyes tapping his fingers rhythmically against his ribcage. Till the quick hissed breting, evened out. He wasn't sure where he learned the tactic, or even why he knew it in the first place, but he was grateful.

The way the room echoed was not bad. Link decided that he honestly really liked the echo. The ambient hum in the room was nice too, it was very quiet, he could barley feel it rumbling under his bare feet.

Keeping his arms wrapped around himself, Link let his eyes roam around the room. The blue tint that everything had was...... eerie, but soothing, in its own way. The room was mostly empty, filled only with the now dry basin that held the not-water, glowing blue tubes attached to a flower shape above the basin, and a pedestal that sat in the corner of the room. The same blue emanated from carved lines on its surface.

Deciding the pedestal to be the more interesting artifact, Link unwrapped his arms and trotted over to it. reaching out to touch it. Link almost yelped when the clicking and whirring of machinery spilled into the stagnant air.

The voice was back again, calling the glowing orange thin box thing that had risen from the pedestal, a sheikah slate. The orange glow on it grew and reseeded with every breath, but the blue weeping eye kept on staring at him.

Reaching out a hesitant hand Link took it. jumping a little when it came to life. There was a belt on his hip with a convenient hold for the slate, reasoning that it was probably for this express purpose, a link attached to his hip.

More mechanical whirring and clicking as the pedestal righted itself, the humm of the room grew, energy moving from one place to the next. The scrape and grinding growl of stone sliding across stone filled the air, the segments of the wall sliding up to make a doorway. stepping out into the new room, Link found it to be rather a lot different from the one he just came from.

Same strange black stone walls, but different glowing orange constellations. Same rough gold stone wrapped around all the edges, but larger and almost completely empty, save some crates, and two cheats. He took the old worn clothes in the chests.

Warily he walked over to the opposite wall; it looked quite a bit like the stone door behind him. Another pedestal, and more words from the woman, telling him what to do. Hold the sheikah slate up to the pedestal. it wasn't the same as the pedestal in the other room, it was smooth excusing the same weeping eye carved on it.

Slowly, he held the slate up to it, not quite sure if that is what the girl meant. Blue light bursts from the carved lines, more energy hummed and rumbled under foot, moving toward the door.

The grumble of the stone was stronger with this door, Link had a feeling that this one led out. He was very quickly proven right when an unbelievable amount of light shone under the rising stone slabs. The cool green air from outside the cave rushed over him, filling his lungs.

The voice echoed in his mind as the light shone, too bright, in his eyes. She seemed to like speaking in her metaphors. Metaphors he did not understand.

Making his way through the tunnel, toward the bright daylight on the other side. The air full of green life, the bright sun warm on his skin, the grass whispered and murmured with the trees.

This was how it was supposed to be.

--<>-----<>-----<>--

Link knew he was strange.

Everyone thought so, they were usually kind about it, if someone saved you from a bokoblin you werent gonna be rude to em'. But it was evident that they thought him a strange sort.

He did a lot of things that he had never seen other people do. These were the things that people stared at him for. But he really didn't try to pay attention, if they had a problem, that was for them to decide. If anything, Link felt that most people were weirder than he was.

Other travelers and warriors understood.

Once he had been sitting with two other travelers at a fire for the night. Coming together as strangers, for safety as they slept, and parenting as friends with the sunrize. They had spoken about all the weird things they had come across in their travels.

Link was glad that most people knew sign language, because he couldn't force words out of his mouth. Every time he tried it felt like something was wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing. All the stable masters knew sign, and so did most of the warriors he came in contact with. They would use it to talk to each other without alerting monsters to their presence.

When he spent too much time around people, everything would get too loud, he would flinch at the feeling of his clothes, people would get mad at him, and he'd find himself on the brink of tears. So he'd wrap his arms around himself, and find a quiet place to sit, away from any travelers or any monsters, and just be.

some people were rude about all of it,

But Kass was always happy when Link got excited for each of his songs, and every time link caught a beetle for....Beetle, the man would give an excited shout. The stable owners never complained when he opted to sleep outside, children liked Link, playing with or around him. Sidon would smile and talk with him despite the fact that link could only bring himself to sign.

so he didn't let the other peoples reaction bother him.

Then Link defeated Ganon, and rescued Zelda, he was ecstatic, she was almost hysterical with joy. they both were tired, dirty, and just so happy.

Zelda knew she had to rebuild hyrule. She had to connect the fragmented bits of the now broken land. explaining to them that she was zelda, and she had held back the calamity for 100 years. There were mixed reactions. But most people were glad that the kingdom was going to be put back together, some seemed to think that Zelda and Link had failed them, they were wrong about Zelda, she had fought so hard. But Link had failed them, failed them and gotten to take a one hundred year break, while Zelda held back the calamity, Alone.

Link hadn't really spoken before the calamity, had not spoken at all after he woke up in the shrine, so it was difficult at first because Zelda had never learned sign language, and Link's voice was so broken with disuse that he could barely choke out a single word. But slowly, Zelda helped Link speak. Now he could carry a short conversation, very short, and very quiet, but he could do it.

The calamities hold on Hyrule had left its mark, blood moons still happened, if irregularly, travel was dangerous, as monsters still plagued the land. Some of the monsters were even getting infected with something, their blood turned black, some of them got smarter, they all got more aggressive, they all were stronger.

They would seek out the smell of blood, so Link told all the warriors he spoke to, to cover the scent if they got hurt, so they had a better chance of getting back to safety. Tt was already common to stash and hide weapons so that monsters don't get their hands on them after blood moons, now you just had to hide the smell of blood on them too.

Bundles of flowers work, so do most spices, but spice hurts when you put it on an open wound, much more than a silent princess paste.

Link and Zelda traveled around finding capable warriors to help rebuild the army, the shika trained them, it wasn't much, but it was enough to keep those working on rebuilding the castle town safe.

It was fun at first, traveling across Hyrule, like he had before he had defeated Ganon, but not crushingly alone this time, connecting hyrule. But Zelda kept giving him rules. Like,

"Stop wrapping your knuckles against the sheikah slate"

"Don't rocking back and forth when talking to someone it's rude"

"You need to quiet down, your talking to loud,"

He kept getting comments on how he acted, so he started correcting himself, and started doing things he saw other people do. After the first week of doing this he ran into the woods next to the riverside stable, he stayed there, crying silently, until Zelda found him, several hours later.

"You need to stop fidgeting so much,"

"Look at people when your talking to them,"

"Quit humming like that,"

The words meant a lot more coming from Zelda, he had heard them before, from other people, more detached from him, less personal. And what's worse, now he had to listen to them, she was the queen after all.

"Stop snapping your fingers it's distracting"

"I know you like to run off but were busy now,"

"The inn is not too loud, your overreacting, come on,"

He was getting tired, Zelda had shika warriors to guard her, Link was just a sort of trophy, since he was the one who dealt the final blow to the calamity. He was just sort of there. Most people still had no idea that link was the chosen hero from all those years ago. They still thought of him as a boy playing hero, carrying the name of a man that died in battle.

Soon his voice was lost under anxiety, each time someone ignored, spoke over or got mad at him, his words he got quieter, no one really seemed to notice. Zelda did, she never remarked on it, but he caught her looking when he signed with sidon rather than speaking like the last time they were in Zora's domain together.

One night, while staying at the South Akkala Stable, Link decided to leave. unceremoniously, quite honestly not sure why he had decided to, he got up. It was the middle of the night,Link was tired, but he continued, completely silent.

he asked for a piece of paper and something to write with from the stable owner. making a simple note for Zelda. It may be a bit rude, especially to give to the queen of Hyrule, but Link had made his decision. Tucking a dried and pressed silent princess into the fold of the paper, Link stepped away from Zeldas sleeping form.

"If you don't mind me asking, what might you be doing?" Dmitri, the stable owner, asked. Quiet, carefully mindful of the other residents of the stable. Link smiled, only just visible under the shadow cast by his hood, lifting his hands to sign.

"Running away," that pulled a snort from Dmitri,

"From what boy, if it's your job, i think your too young to have one anyway" A playfully exasperated tone seeped into his words as he leaned forward, "Of course it must be tied to that slumbering princess over there"

Link only gave a hum in response,

"Right," Dmitri grinned as he stood up straight. "So let the other stables know that the hooligan is back on the loose, got it." he said, chucking. Link's smile grew, he liked it when other people laughed.

Link's eyes flicked over to the moonswept fields that he was about to find himself immersed in again. The whisper of the long grass was so close. He missed it all. Somehow even the crushing loneliness.

"Do you want to take a horse or are you leaving on foot?" Link faltered, it would be faster to ride but there was more of a chance of someone waking up and ruining his chances for today. he couldn't warp using the shrine, every time he did that Zelda could see where he went on her own slate.

"Walk" was safest, and the fastest way out, if he chose to ride he would have to wait for all the paperwork.....And he'd have to saddle up his horse, which could make way too much noise. Dmitri hummed in affirmation, putting away the papers he had started to get out.

"Well safe travels boy," he leaned back against the side of the counter. "Hope to see you soon," Link smiled in return, and silently trotted out into the field. immediately lost to the untrained eye.

This was how it was supposed to be.

( I got my own issues that I plan on projecting onto wild, but this ended up being a bit more like a sloppy prologue. writing a character for the first time is hard, especially when you imagine everything in move/animation format,)

#linked universe #wild #twilight #time #hyrule #four #warriors #legend #wind #sky #idontknowhowtotag #loz #legend of zelda #link #hero of wild #flora #botw

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Tides of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 10

Tides of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because will Detective Pirate skekSa’s scientific know-how save Tae? I sure hope so!

Last times on book: Amri and co have gone to Cera-Na on a quest to unify all the Gelfling clans but Sifa Maudra Ethri doesn’t seem that into what they’re pitching. Since it rains when it pours, it turns out that someone poisoned their guide Tae, Madura Ethri is scheming something, and skekSa the Mariner is in town. skekSa takes the assorted characters in this little drama to her ship, A GIANT SEA MONSTER.

Chapter 10

Emergency medical treatment on board the sea monster, Amri does a goof.

Amri did not want to board the ship.

It wasn’t even a ship. It was a living, breathing, heaving, groaning onster. But he didn’t have a choice.

Damn right you don’t, get in the sea monster young gelf.

So when you make a living creature a vessel, you have two to two and a half options. Option half is that you just ride it. I dispute this because it is riding. Option 1 is that you construct some vehicular framework around the creature. Like the giant sea turtles of Warcraft II. The gerblins built a water-tight structure on the back of the turtle and drove them around. The space British people of that one Doctor Who episode built an entire spaceship around a space whale, using the whale basically as the engine, in space.

Option 1 is generally less messy but more tentative than option 2. Option 2 is that you hollow out a giant creature somewhat and build whatever you need inside. In terms of living vehicles, you also see this more when the people using these vessels are kinda dicks? See also the Brood and building ships inside some different space whales.

Long story short, skekSa pushes aside a scale to reveal a door into the sea monster.

Welp.

The passageway inside was a slope reinforced with metal and shell, and Amri committed the path to memory in case they needed to escape. The flesh that made up the artery twitched and spasmed underfoot and all around, circulating the fluids in the wall and giving off the occasional draft of tepid, thick air smelling of fish and blood.

Okay. Not loving this. Not the biggest fan of the womb level trope.

They also find a giant worm lying dying in the passage and skekSa waves it off as the cleaners not having reached this far up the corridor but they don’t encounter any crew at all, cleaners or otherwise, on their trek.

skekSa reached a widening in the tunnel and blew a series of chirps on her whistle. The flesh in the wall trembled, scales folding back and spines retracting to reveal a chamber.

“Welcome to my laboratory.”

Cool but also ew.

And hey she’s a pirate captain detective scientist!

Most of the Skeksis just get to do one thing but skekSa is having it all.

They must have been deep under the behemoth’s shell, for the ceiling was high and structured with beams and rods and poles. A large chandelier of the golden lamps glowing with a fireless light hung from the center of the ceiling, illuminating a long row of shelves stacked with bottles and jars and flasks, and on the other end an expansive library of books. Crystals, looking glasses, lenses, and other objects littered every surface.

Cool pad, skekSa!

She sweeps a table clear, dramatically, and has Tae laid down. The Sifa is barely breathing by this point and has gone nearly white.

Amri points out that zandir shouldn’t cause this, its just a truth dust. And neither should nectarwine.

“Astute, my little Grottan apothecary. However, the zandir flower, known to unlock the mind, is less commonly known to be a distant relative to the sogflower. When taken together, the fruit of the sogflower is awakened by the zandir pollen. It results in a spore that causes the worst effects of both plants: dehydration, loss of blood pressure. And of unlocking the mind, yes -- to a degree most severe. Had Staya known this, surely he wouldn’t have given both to Tae in one cup.”

Ah, so its an adverse reaction. Its like they say, don’t take medicine with alcohol. Although I’m amused at how much Staya has borked up a simple attempt to pump Tae for information by having niche taste in booze.

skekSa shoos out everyone except Amri and Naia. Naia for her healing magic and Amri for knowing him some drugs. While she and Naia get to healing, skekSa has Amri fill up a basin with warm water and grind up some soothing salts into it. “Figure it out yourself, I’ve got to help your friend now.”

Amri has trouble deciding what to choose from skekSa’s extensive inventory.

skekSa asks Naia whether she trained under Maudra Laesid, which Naia confirms.

“The Blue Stone Healer. Her name is well-known. I heard from Lord skekZok that she had twins, one a son who went to serve my kin at the Castle of the Crystal, one a daughter who inherited her abilities with healing vliyaya. Oh, what I’d give to meet the two of them. Twins being so rare among Gelfling and all.”

OH SHI-

Amri starts to panic about being trapped in a Skeksis’ lab in a Skeksis’ sea monster and that skekSa is going to disappear them.

Tavra tells Amri to be cool, that the only play is to wait and play along and hope an opportunity to escape comes up.

Which calms Amri for a time but he starts thinking about all the songs glorifying the Skeksis and how they’re all lies and how the Grottan way had failed them and their clan was the first to fall.

Now here he was, doing as skekSa told him without protesting. Despite the lies the Skeksis had told them all, despite how the Lords of the Castle had begun plucking from the Gelfling as he was about to pluck from the scented salts. He would never become a hero if he kept doing things the Grottan way. Alone and hiding in the dark.

So this time, Amri asked himself what a daylighter would do.

As skekSa and Naia focused on healing Tae, Amri draws his sword.

Amri no!

Tavra pinched him, hissing in his ear, “Amri, no. Don’t be a fool!”

Listen to Tavra for once!

“There are only so many Skeksis,” he whispered. “After tonight there could be one less.”

“She’ll kill you. She’ll kill us all!”

AMRI!

Tavra bites him several times, finally taking control of his body and forcing him to stop mid-swing. Spider powerrrrrrs.

Naia and skekSa notice Amri standing there with his sword raised and skekSa snatches the blade away. Then she grabs Tavra spider from Amri’s neck and traps her under a bottle.

“Interesting,” skekSa said. She turned away from him as if nothing had happened. “Ah, there she is. Good evening, my dear.”

Consumed by his attempt to kill the Mariner, Amri had failed to notice that Tae was awake. Naia grabbed her shoulder and helped steady her as she sat up.

Naia stares at Amri but he doesn’t really know what to say so he doesn’t say anything, just holds his bleeding neck and feels angry at himself and at Tavra for stopping him.

The Mariner stood back, pulling a lace handkerchief from her coat. She handed it to Amri and gestured.

“For your neck,” she said. “Now fetch that water, will you? Then we’ll discuss your little spider problem.”

You’re pretty chill, skekSa.

I think everyone else in the room is screaming internally.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #Tides of the Dark Crystal #liveblog #skekSa #the Mariner #Amri #Naia #Kylan #Tavra #Maudra Ethri

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n6or · 5 years

Text

showers | piers nsfw

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions

Relationships: Nezu | Piers/Reader

Additional Tags: Self-Insert, Vaginal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Rough Sex

Words: 2583

READ HERE ON AO3!

It’s nearly four am when the first knock sounds. Piers stirs in his sleep. It’s about the fifth knock that actually (begrudgingly) drags him from his bed. He wears a baggy black jumper with an even baggier pair of black sweatpants.

His feet drag slowly along the carpet, padding to the front door. He’s grumbling quietly to himself, totally annoyed at the disruption to his much loved sleep--at least, that’s until he opens the door.

He’s taken aback when he sees the sight of you. Your eyes are rimmed red, glassy, and your face is stained with tears. He blinks a couple moments, trying to figure out if it’s really some sort of dream, but when you take the first step forward, and your face finds his chest, his arms instinctively wrap around your shoulders.

“H-Hey,” he mumbles into your hair, having leaned down to kiss your head. His voice is lower than usual, raspier, too. “What’s goin’ on?”

Your silence is worrying, especially when the only thing close to a reply is the shaking of your shoulders. He squeezes you gently, trying to draw back, but is stopped by your tightening embrace.

"Babe," he says again, voice quiet, deep, and soothing. His hand comes back up to the back of your head, stroking your hair. "C'mon… let's get inside."

He straightens up, arm manoeuvring around your waist so that - although you still clung to him - you were now tucked into his side. The pair of you move slowly into the bathroom, the only noise being the shuffling of socks against carpet and your soft hiccups.

Piers flicks the bathroom light on as you both enter, his eyes squinting to readjust to the sudden abusive change in brightness. Keeping one arm around you, he rubs the sleep from his tired eyes, other hand squeezing your hip gently.

He coaxes you around and slowly guides your shirt up and over your upper half, folding it up rather neatly and placing it on the basin's bench behind him. His spindly fingers move up the smoothness of your belly, fingertips gingerly grazing the swells of your breast. The silent journey of his touch traces along the curve of your shoulder, up your supple neck, and finally, his palm meets your cheek. Calloused pads press against the skin, coaxing your head up.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His eyes are soft as he watches you — less distant than the first time you had both met. "I won't force it out of ya, but y'know I'll always listen."

You lean into his palm and relish in the cool touch. Compared to you, he was always a lot colder, but you loved it. You often relished in the way his chilled fingers would trace aimless shapes above the small of your back, especially when he was concentrating.

"Just… a bad night," You manage out through staggered breaths.

He nods knowingly, slowly tucking some of your hair behind your ear and out of your face.

"I can't solve ya problems…" He begins, slowly leaving you to turn the faucet on to the bathtub. You miss his touch, the once could touch now burning into your skin. You wanted it back. As he returns once more he takes your hand and squeezes it tight between his own. "But i can hold ya hand and listen."

The soft words prick at the corners of your eyes as a new round of tears settle in and threaten to spill over at any given time. Squeezing his hand in return, you bow your head, forehead dropping onto his shoulder. A silent submission; a usual occurrence during these sorts of nights.

Slender fingers trail up your arms and around your waist, fiddling with the buttons and zipper of your jeans before he's dragging them down your thighs. Lowering himself to his knees, Piers helps you out of your jeans before slowly kissing up your leg. He starts at your ankle, teeth lightly grazing the skin whilst his tongue caresses the soft bite. His hands explore the side of your leg as he trails the kisses higher.

Your breath stutters when his lips find your thigh, your eyes fixed on his mouth, staring silently as he takes the supple skin between his teeth and bites down. A jolt rolls through you and you can feel the slight smirk — especially when you gasp.

He looks up from where he's knelt before you and rests his cheek against your thigh.

"Want me to try and make ya forget, babe? Or is it too bad t'night?" His voice is soft as he speaks, fingertips massaging wherever they can find in an attempt of easing your emotions. "We can just have a bath 'n go t'bed if ya don't wanna do this kinda thing. I just wanna help." You watch his brows crease with concern and can't help but to reach down and run a hand through his thick, two-toned hair.

Slowly, you nod.

Piers mimics the response and litters soft biting kisses up your body towards your shoulder.

Lithe arms find your waist and tug you closer, hips grinding slowly, sensually against yours. Your head tilts to the left, granting your lover more space to work those perfect lips into your suddenly heated body.

A hand moves up into his long hair, your fingers working skilfully to tie his hair up into a loose bun. This earns a quiet chuckle from the older, followed by a small "thanks".

It doesn't take long for the clothes to leave your entangled bodies. Your hands are everywhere on his sculpted frame; feeling up each indent of his ribs, tracing the protrusion of his scapula, moving down over the subtle curve of his ass; this particularly makes him groan with anticipation. You're addicted to his body—completely enthralled by his tall, thin stature.

"Bath," he groans again once you squeeze his ass.

You oblige and slowly draw back from the passionate lock of your lips.

Piers is the first to step in, turning the nozzles of the bath to slow the water. The action earns a cock of your eyebrow. Instead of turning off the water and laying back, he grabs the detachable shower nozzle and carefully adjusts the settings so that water trickles from the silver showerhead now.

You blink, clearly perplexed, but Piers (with his open legs and proudly standing cock) motions for you to sit between his legs.

It's then that you realise the tub isn't quite full yet.

Nonetheless, you oblige.

You move carefully, stepping into the wider bath and taking your seat between your boyfriend's thighs. The feeling of his aching erection pressing flush against your lower back elicits a warm flow of arousal to spread between your thighs.

"Lean back, babe," he murmurs, left hand caressing your thigh. You recline back into his chest, gasping softly when his hand slips under your knee and widening your legs.

"P-Piers," You stammer quietly, trying to sit up again, but Piers merely pulls you back down and greets you with a soft kiss to your shoulder.

"Trust me. I'll make ya feel good, 'kay?"

The question leaves you feeling hot all over, know far too well that Piers never fails to deliver in the pleasure department.

His lips move slowly against your shoulder, massaging your thighs. The water is at a slow pace for the time being, spraying across your pert nipples, causing you to squirm slightly. Piers groans into your ears when your ass grinds back against his cock, the longer shaft jumping excitedly at the friction building between you both.

Slowly, Piers sits you up so that your lower half is totally free of the water (and considering the water level, its not that hard). You shiver when his long fingers slide along the folds of your head, body shuddering at the tender touch. He licks your ear slowly, moaning once two fingers tease your entrance.

"Y'so wet already, babe… Such a good girl."

A fire flames across your cheeks and you squeeze your eyes shut tight. Praise makes something inside you flutter and results in you becoming absolute putty in Piers' hands.

He doesn't penetrate you yet. Instead, he teases your tighter entrance with one fingertip, the showerhead slowly being angled closer towards your clit. His fingers pry the lips of your warmth apart and spread you open for the water to splash against you sensitive core.

The first touch of water steals the breath from your lungs, briefly. Your back arches and your eyes snap open, wide and completely taken aback by the foreign pleasure. Your hips tremble instantly and violently, a string of higher pitched whines falling from you as you writhe atop your boyfriend.

Continuing to tease your ear, you feel him smirk yet again. And it's when the pressure of the shower nozzle increases that you realise why.

The warm water that repetitively soaks your clit makes you want to scream. Droplets remain relentless in drowning your pussy, massaging your clit so strangely to anything you've ever experienced before—it's totally overthrown your previous depression and replaced it with something dangerously delicious: lust.

"Piers…!" You finally cry out, bucking your hips. You can feel your abdomen becoming tight—can feel the familiar tremble of your thighs.

You're panting and moaning and whining his name—and he's living for it. Watching his sweet, innocent girlfriend become a whining whore does things to him. It gives him an odd power trip knowing that he is making someone so beautiful—someone so pure—cry out his name like this.

"Y'like this, Princess?" comes his quiet cool, tongue grazing up and along the shell of your ear. You shudder, pushing yourself both backwards and forwards, wanting both Piers' cock and the vibrations of the shower head. "Can't hear you…~"

When he lowers the showerhead away from your clit you almost cry.

"Yes!" You choke out hurriedly, nodding over and over and over. "P-Please don't stop, Piers. Please. Please, I'm so close…"

There's a quiet chuckle before the bliss of the showerhead returns. The welcomed pleasure makes you sigh with relief, hips slowly beginning to bounce in spot for something more. It's then that a strong hand wraps around your hips and the shower is finally pressed onto the highest pressure it can muster.

The orgasm hits you so suddenly you swore you must've passed out because there was absolutely no warning for you or Piers. Your body convulses against the unyielding attack of the tiny droplets, your eyes rolling into the back of your head which falls back against Piers' shoulder. He holds you in a vice-like grip so that escape was pointless.

You're grounded after a few starry moments with a loud gasp, followed by an even louder whine. Your back arches up off your lover and your toes girl as the pleasure begins to fade to pain. You're crying again by this stage, babbling, begging, trying to move your hips—but no matter what, you can't.

"Not gonna stop. You're a big girl. You know how to use ya words." Piers' words reverberate off each end of your skull, his husky voice going straight to your already dripping pussy.

Safe words were something that he had introduced to you after the eight month mark of your relationship. That's when things became a little more intense between you both—when Piers taught you a whole other world of pleasure from the vanilla sex you knew of.

But this wasn't time for your safe word. Although it hurt, there was the slightest lick of pleasure that teetered alongside the pain that made you want more.

"A-Ah--!" You choke when you feel your hips angle and the head of Piers' cock tease your entrance. "Please!" You cry without any encouragement, knowing full well how badly you wanted to be fucked while the shower head abused your clit.

"Hm… 'Kay. Since ya such a good girl."

The flush spreads from your cheeks down your neck when you feel just how easy his cock enters you, like your pussy was made to sheath his sizable erection.

Another sigh of contentment leaves you when a gradual rhythm of his hips is settled. You reach behind you and run a hand through his hair, tugging on the bun and earning a guttural growl from the older, which entails a rather sharp thrust up into you.

Handing you the showerhead, Piers angles it so its directly targeting your clit.

"N-No!" You cry when he begins to increase the pace of his hips, his throbbing cock slipping in and out of you. "Too much!" Your head falls back against his shoulder once his hands find your hips, angling you so he's thrusting upwards, cock burying deeper and deeper inside your sopping sex.

"Don't y'dare move that hand," he growls once more, teeth nipping at your ear. "If you move It, I won't let ya cum again."

The threat is too much; you almost want to cry out no. The second orgasm is so close. You can feel it conjuring inside you like a tempest, a violent storm that will wreak havoc as it tears through your trembling body. So instead you just nod, silently crying out every time the head of Piers' cock dragged across that sinfully sweet spot deep inside you.

"Y'such a good girl, Y/N. Fuck, I love you so much." You can feel he won't last long. The one thing you've noticed about Piers, is that right before his orgasm, he becomes cutely sappy; reminding you how good you are, telling you how lucky he is to have you—how lucky he is to love you. And again, he groans into your ear, his cock jumping inside of you as he sloppily angles his cock inside of you.

He grabs your hand and begins to shake the nozzle, the droplets splaying in every direction they can, hitting every inch of your sensitive heat and, finally, drawing out your second orgasm.

Euphoria washes over you so strongly that when you clench around Piers, he can't help but to shoot his seed deep inside your sinful pussy. He groans, hand bruising your hips as he fucks himself into you, riding out his orgasm, but also prolonging yours.

"Piers!" You cry out loudly, voice higher pitched than earlier—strained, too. His name seems to be the only thing your sex filled mind can think of because its the only thing you can seem to babble as your consciousness slips.

Piers hums quietly as he continues to hold the showerhead (now right up) against the throbbing bundle of nerves, watching the way your twitching and stiffening body begins to limpen.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he rubs, finally turning the pressure down and allowing the showerhead to fall back into the slowly rising bathwater.

Heavy pants heave your chest, sweat lining your brow. The afterglow of your orgasm is so warm against the chill of Piers' cold body. You feel the distant press of supple lips trailing along your neck; calloused fingertips tracing aimless shapes (which now you think may have been hearts) against your abdomen.

"I love you so much, Y/N," he whispers again, cradling you so close. "I'm sorry y'so sad right now… I don't really know how t'help… but i'll always be here to hold ya whenever y'need me to, yeah?"

You smile exhaustedly at the soft nothings he whispers and tilt your head to press a small kiss to his jaw.

"I love you, Piers. Thank you."

#piers #piers x reader #nezu #nezu x reader #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #pokemon #self insert #nor writes #smut #im not very good at labelling stuff like I know this aint rough but like.......its slightly that thing u know #me trying to explain anything: instantly fails #also im trying hard 2 work on smut #sorry if its not great #I hope u enjoy it nonetheless

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