#a new generation without any continuity from the previous generation

[muaka-safari]

Last rambling post for now about the millennium spent on Mata Nui, I promise, but it's just as well the system for triggering new Matoran to be built was (presumably) manual. Otherwise there's a not-zero chance the Matoran would have returned to Metru Nui to discover they'd been replaced by a new generation of workers

[solarmorrigan]

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.

[casscainmainly]

The Evolution of Cassandra Cain's Dialogue

Since Batgirl #1 is out and thriving, I thought it'd be fun to dive into the history of Cass' dialogue throughout different writers/runs. This is not comprehensive - I'll miss some writers, but I'll be covering her generally most known runs in mainline continuity (so no DCeased, Shadow of the Batgirl, etc.). Not a linguist by any means, so linguists on here feel free to chime in! (I'll also give opinions on which interpretations I personally prefer at the end).

Without further ado, we'll start at the beginning:

Kelley Puckett - Batgirl (2000)

Pre-issue 4, Cass speaks minimally in one-word sentences and doesn't have internal narration. Post-issue 4 (when a metahuman changes Cass' brain), she develops an internal monologue and begins to speak longer sentences. I'm splitting Puckett's Cass dialogue into 3 stages: early, middle, and late.

Early (#4 - #12): Cass speaks short, fragmented sentences. Each word has an ellipses between them (panel 1 above, from #7).

Middle (#13 - #24): Cass continues to speak incomplete sentences (often missing a subject or pronouns), but without ellipses (panel 2, from #13).

Late (#25 onwards): Cass begins to speak complete, simple sentences, punctuated by a few ellipses (panel 3, from #33). She continues to speak grammatically (though slowly) throughout the final part of Puckett's run.

Dylan Horrocks - Batgirl (2000)

Horrocks writes very similarly to late-Puckett, with Cass speaking in full, simple sentences, punctuated by the occasional ellipses. Horrocks introduces two new elements to her dialogue:

Cass stutters, sometimes repeating a word or phrase at the beginning of a sentence (panel 1 above, from #39). This is mostly used in the earlier parts of Horrocks' run.

She quotes reality TV (panel 2, from #51).

Maybe because of the reality TV, Cass also speaks more colloquially here than in Puckett's run, using phrases like "come 'n' get it" (from #57).

Andersen Gabrych - Batgirl (2000)

Gabrych's run focuses heavily on Cass' dialogue. Panel 1 above, from #58, suggests her narration boxes are another form of dialogue - Cass is speaking into a recorder. Several features of Gabrych's Cass dialogue are:

Ellipses: Even more than his predecessors, Gabrych scatters ellipses throughout Cass' speech (panel 1).

Fillers: Cass extensively uses filler words such as 'uh', 'um', and 'like' (panel 1, panel 2 from #61).

Longer sentences: Cass is more talkative and speaks longer sentences (panel 1, which is basically more words per panel than Puckett and Horrocks combined).

Wordplay: Cass often ponders definitions and word structures (panel 1, 2).

Adam Beechen - Batgirl (2008)

After evil Cass (that dialogue is not worth discussing), Beechen gets another chance with Cass in this miniseries. More than any other writer, Beechen differentiates Cass' internal monologue from her dialogue - her narration boxes are much wordier than her speech.

Her dialogue is a more loquacious version of late-Puckett or Horrocks: full sentences interspersed with ellipses (panel 1, from #1). The ellipses drop off towards the end of the series.

Her narration boxes use a variety of sentence structures and vocabulary. They read more or less as fluent English (panel 2, from #4).

Scott Snyder - Gates of Gotham (2011)

Snyder's Cass somewhat resembles mid-Puckett, using short sentences without ellipses (panel 1, from #2). She speaks a fair amount, but is more taciturn here than in any previous run. This is partially due to her not having narration boxes.

A unique feature of Snyder's Cass is preferring formal to informal speech. Though she uses contractions (panel 1), she goes large stretches without them (panel 2, from #3). She also omits the subject of a sentence only once in 5 issues, whereas native speakers (like Dick) drop the subject all the time ('have you ever been to Paris?' vs. 'ever been to Paris?'; Snyder's Cass would always say the former instead of the latter).

Sidenote: Batman & Robin: Eternal (2015)

Quick note about B&R:E: Cass is reintroduced into canon after being erased by the New 52, which means she's back to having very limited language ability. The series is scripted by multiple people, so it's hard to analyse. Suffice it to say she speaks in monosyllabic words, at most a short, incomplete sentence, but is mostly silent.

James Tynion IV - Detective Comics (2016)

Because Cass' language ability has been reset, Tynion develops her speech along the lines of Batgirl (2000).

Early Tynion has Cass speaking single word sentences (panel 1, from #938). Very similar to pre-metahuman touch Cass in BG (2000).

During the League of Shadows arc, Cass begins to speak a few words at a time, often separated by an ellipsis (panel 2, from #956).

Afterwards, Cass' friendship with Basil Karlo blossoms, leading to this run's most distinctive language feature - Cass improves her speech via studying and quoting Shakespeare (panel 3, from #958). Her improvement is reflected in the rest of the run through speaking longer and more frequent sentences.

Bryan Hill - Batman & The Outsiders (2019)

Like other writers, Hill's Cass generally uses short, simple sentences. She frequently drops the subject or pronoun in a sentence (panel 1, from #1). Hill doesn't use ellipses to separate the sentences, opting for periods most of the time.

Cass sometimes omits other words from her sentences too, dropping articles like 'a' and 'the' (panel 2, from #4), prepositions like 'to', and verbs like 'is' (panel 3, from #9). This peters out in the second half of the run.

Becky Cloonan and Michael W. Conrad - Batgirls (2022)

Similar to mid-Puckett, Batgirls has Cass speak mostly in short, 1-2 word sentences (panel 1, from #2). Cloonan and Conrad occasionally use ellipses as well, though mostly for emphasis/natural hesitation rather than indicating a unique speech pattern (panel 2, from #7).

Cass also has a habit of repeating/echoing a phrase Stephanie says (panel 3, from #16). This might be more of a friendship thing than a speech thing, though.

Alyssa Wong - Spirit World (2023)

Wong's Cass uses short sentences sometimes interrupted by ellipses, like late-Puckett and Horrocks (panel 1, from #1). Generally, if the sentence is three words or less, there won't be an ellipsis (panel 2, from #5).

Kelly Thompson - Birds of Prey (2023)

Thompson's Cass draws on a lot of previous iterations, but is somewhat unique as a whole. Some elements of BoP Cass include:

She speaks in sentences of varying lengths, but rarely with more than one clause (panel 1, from #1). Thompson is more strict about not using commas with Cass than most other writers.

Cass is a little more talkative (panel 2, from #5). Her sentences are fairly lengthy compared to most other runs, and she doesn't always opt for the shortest way to say things ('where is it?' instead of 'do you know where it is?'). Thompson also doesn't use ellipses, which adds to the sentences feeling longer/more complete.

BoP is ongoing so Thompson may add more to her speech.

Sidenote: Ram V - Detective Comics (2023)

Putting this in a sidenote since there's not much to say, but Ram V takes after mid-Puckett, with Cass using shorter, incomplete sentences. Cass almost always omits the subject of a sentence; her dialogue is as short as possible while retaining clarity.

Thoughts

Because Cass' language disability is a core part of her character, but learning to speak is also a core part of her character, I prefer writers who emphasize her unique speech patterns without reducing her range of expression. My favourites are:

Gabrych - by far the person who put the most effort into his dialogue, Gabrych-Cass has such a vibrant, distinctive style of speaking. The narration boxes, Cass' wordplay, and the use of fillers and ellipses all combine for a speech style that highlights her disability without reducing her to it.

Puckett/Horrocks - combining because they are really very similar. Puckett and Horrocks both use ellipses to great effect, and is a great style to emulate for Cass in an earlier stage of life. Horrocks' use of reality TV is severely underutilised. Puckett, of course, is the gold standard for typical Cass dialogue - if Gabrych's style is a little too much, Puckett and Horrocks are the way to go.

Tynion - mostly because of the Shakespeare thing. It's such a beautiful and clever way of showing her progress, and the amount of symbolism you could do with Cass quoting Shakespeare is unmatched.

I don't super enjoy the more talkative Casses (Beechen, Thompson to an extent), though I kind of like Snyder's take because there's a sense of Cass being very careful with her speech there. If you're writing Cass for a fanfic or something, I would avoid Hill's Outsiders; the run is great, but Cass' ungrammatical speech is unusual and doesn't jibe with the rest of her depictions. Ram V and Wong are relatively good depictions to draw from though.

Of course these are my opinions! I may have gotten some things wrong/overgeneralised stuff, so take all this with a grain of salt. All you need to know is you should read Batgirl (2000) :).

[deeplyshalllow]

An in depth study of the Lion Cub Scene in the Wicked Movie

Elphaba and Fiyero's meeting

Dancing Through Life

Sorry it’s taken a little longer than I expected to come out with this essay, I’ve been busy general pre-Christmas stuff and then recreating the entirety of Heather the Musical with Funko pops – you know, the usual. In any case, in a way I’m glad that it’s taken slightly longer as it’s meant that the movie screenplay has come out in the meantime so I can make the odd reference to that.

[Elphaba practices her ‘toss, toss,’ Fiyero notices.]

“You’ve been Galindafied.” [smiles at her fondly,] “you don’t need to do that, you know. Come on, let’s get to class.”

This is essentially the same line as in the musical (though my best friend was quick to point out removed Fiyero imitating the ‘toss toss’ and I’m pretty sure she nearly walked out of the cinema in outrage), and I think it serves the same purpose. The idea that Galinda is indeed continuing on her mission to make Elphaba popular and Elphaba is somewhat receptive to it. Fiyero, though fondly, kind of thinks the whole thing is a little ridiculous and finds Elphaba fine the way she is.

This scene is actually the one most impacted by what was cut from the screenplay. In the screenplay version we do not have the “Let’s get to class” line as it’s actually set a considerable amount of time (potentially a few months) before the Lion Cub. I go into much more detail here but basically there is a montage between the “toss toss” scene and the Lion Cub scene that shows time passing and  Elphaba, Galinda, Fiyero, Nessa and Boq becoming friends.

Elphaba is wearing different clothes when she enters Dillamond’s classroom than in the “toss toss” scene, so I am going to take this as canon that there is still the same time jump, as it makes a lot more narrative sense (otherwise there’s very little time before Elphaba goes to the Emerald City for anyone to become friends). Therefore, by the scene in Dillamond’s classroom we are to assume a few months have passed, and Elphaba regards Fiyero as somewhat of a friend that she’s comfortable enough being around, if in a bit of a superficial “my best friend’s boyfriend” sort of way.

The scene continues mostly as it does in the musical, Doctor Dillamond tells the class he’s no longer permitted to teach, Elphaba is cross and tries to stop it, Doctor Dillamond is taken away. All this is expected and as expected of Elphaba’s character considering her previous scenes.

What is new is Fiyero’s reaction to Doctor Dillamond being taken away, he also stands up and shouts “hey!” he’s clearly not the only student distressed, but aside from Elphaba he appears the most distressed. It’s immediately clear that “Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters” is not as true as he makes it out to be. In my opinion, this is a very good change from the musical, as it sets up his actions later in the scene, he’s on Elphaba and the Animals’ side, he’s always been on their side.

Fiyero, however, does not react like Elphaba. After the initial outburst, he is silenced and sits down like the rest of the class (albeit he is one of the last to do so) and does not respond to her challenge to the class of “Are we all just going to sit here in silence?”  

Elphaba, never one for staying silent, like her musical counterpart, continues to challenge the teacher and get increasingly distressed through seeing the Cub in the cage (the premonition of seeing Dillamond in a cage here is, obviously, new to the movie and I think mostly serves to show how distressed she is – I don’t think she’s really realised what she’s seeing is the future, but it may haunt her later).

“Can you imagine a world where Animals are kept in cages and never learn to speak. This Lion Cub seems so frightened. What are we going to do?”

“I’m sorry, we?”

And here we see the dichotomy between Elphaba and Fiyero, both care, both are upset, but Fiyero is not one to spring to action in this situation without outside provocation – again, he’s sung an entire song about how he’ll get less hurt if he pretends not to care. While Elphaba wants to do something no matter what the cost, Fiyero is stuck on the practicalities of the situation: they are powerless students, they will immediately be stopped so, at least for now, he does not try.

“Well someone’s got to do something,” [Elphaba slams her hand on the desk, causing poppies to float in the air, putting everyone to sleep]

[Fiyero, stares around, not falling asleep but somewhat bewildered, Galinda falls asleep on his shoulder] “hey, hey, c’mere,” [lays Galinda’s head on the desk].

The spell going from making everyone crazy dance, to poppies putting everyone to sleep is a change for the movie, and I think a good one. I don’t think the crazy dance would have worked as well in film format, and the poppies is obviously a lovely reference to the Wizard of Oz – ultimately though, I don’t think it changes much about the narrative.

What I do find really interesting about this scene is the inclusion of Galinda and Nessa. In the musical, neither are in the class, so the casting of Elphaba’s spell seemed to imply that she didn’t magic Fiyero because he was the one person she liked. In here, the two of them are present, and are spelled too, so Fiyero being left out has got to be for a different reason – I read somewhere on Tumblr that apparently they’ve said this will be explored in part 2 and I hope so, because my reading is that it’s another sign that Fiyero alone cares as much about this as Elphaba.

“What is happening?”

“I don’t know, I got mad and...” [Elphaba notices that Fiyero has already got up and is heading towards the Lion Cub] “Fiyero, what are you doing?”

[Fiyero, having already got the Lion Cub out of the cage like the amazing, kitty saving, hero that he is]

“Well, are you coming?”

I love this. I love this so much. Script wise this is not very much of a change from the musical, in fact only one line of Fiyero’s is cut, “Alright just don't move! And don't get mad at me!” but the fact he moves the beat before, that the moment he realises there now is something they can do, which won’t get them stopped or in more trouble than the good they can do, he springs into action – does so much for his characterisation. It’s so very clear from this that he’s doing this because he cares about the Cub too, he’s doing because he wants to himself rather than to help Elphaba, I also like that the removal of this line takes away any idea of blame or frustration at Elphaba’s powers – Jonathan’s Fiyero never really judges her for being unusual.

This scene, both in show and film, is always excellent at showing why Fiyeraba suit each other. Elphaba is all passion and fire, she cares and will fight, but will also go in headfirst without thinking of the consequences. Fiyero, meanwhile, needs the spark of passion and push to act, but when he does act he is careful and tactical, he gets what he wants but in a way that smoothes the consequences of Elphaba’s rash actions and gets at least the majority of them out safely (see also: Throne Room Scene, Corn Field Scene).

There’s nothing particular to note in the bike scene, but I appreciate the cute reference to Mrs Gulch and Toto in the Wizard of Oz (that reference alone made me pleased I watched WOO a few days before I saw Wicked).

[Madame Morrible enters the classroom and sees everyone asleep] “What in the name of Oz?” [immediately writes a letter to the Wizard]

Not Fiyeraba related but I think it’s important to note what’s going on here. Madame Morrible has seen not only that Elphaba has cast a spell, but what she has cast the spell to do (to free an Animal). She’s not writing to the Wizard because she sees Elphaba is already talented enough to see the Wizard (as a first time viewer is led to believe), she’s speeding up the process so Elphaba is safely at the Wizard’s side before she can become any more pro Animal rights. It’s another great addition to canon, showing how much Morrible is in control even in act 1.

Also, Fiyero, who is also not in class, is completely overlooked, because being seen as a himbo often puts him beyond suspicion (she probably assumed he was just skiving off).

We have a few lines cut from the show here:

Elphaba: Careful! Don't shake him!

Fiyero: I'm not!

Elphaba: We can't just let him loose anywhere, you know. We have to find someplace safe...

Fiyero: Don't you think that I realize that? You must think I'm really stupid or something!

Elphaba: No, not really stupid.

These lines are in the screenplay so they’re a recent cut, but I think it’s still important to see the impacts of them being taken to. Again, we see the Fiyeraba relationship being a little less antagonistic than in the show. They still wind each other up a bit, because they defend themselves from the world in such radically different ways that they don’t quite understand the other at times (which we’ll see later in this scene), but they’re not actively sniping at each other in the movie. It’s times like this where we see their similarities, they are supporting the same cause, they have the same end goal in mind and, when they are both sure what they’re doing is right, they’re both very focused on getting it done.

It’s probably important to note that from here on out the musical and movie script is almost identical, so this becomes more of an analysis of the scene in both works, though I will point out where I think the movie particularly differs.

[Elphaba puts Lion Cub down so he can drink water] “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Why is it you’re always causing some sort of commotion?”

“I don’t cause commotions, I am one.”

“Yeah, well that’s for sure.”

Now the Lion Cub is somewhat safe, and resting Elphaba and Fiyero are finally given some time to think and interact.

These are musical lines, but again they hit differently with the meeting scene in the movie. Fiyero constantly uses derogatory humour about himself/his persona, so offhandedly that I’m not sure he even realises he’s doing it anymore. So it’s natural for him to think that Elphaba’s response is the same semi-joke at her own expense as he so frequently does to himself, so he plays into it.

“So you think I should just keep my mouth shut, is that what you’re saying?”

Elphaba, however, does not share quite the same self derogatory humour, any time she insults herself she truly means it. While Fiyero is desperate for people to see him for who he pretends to be, Elphaba wants people to like her for whom she really is. So she doesn’t see Fiyero’s reaction as him laughing at her joke, but instead as him also insulting her and, again, she goes on the defensive.

I get a feeling this also harks back to Elphaba’s relationship with her father, and the general reaction whenever she talked back or accidently did magic. Elphaba is used to being told to shut up, used to be seen as lesser and it’s just happened again with a boy she’s beginning to like and trust.

“What? No, no, I’m saying-”

And, again, Fiyero answers back, because he didn’t mean that – Elphaba puts him on the back foot once again when interacting with her – for all his smooth talking and easy charm Elphaba cuts right through it, because she simply will not let him act like that with her. If she is to trust him she needs to see his true feelings.

“Do you think I want to be this way?”

“I th-”

 “Do you think I want to care this much?”

“I mean-”

“I know that my life would be much easier if I-”

There’s so much self loathing in Elphaba’s feelings about herself, so much of an assumption that everything she does is the wrong thing, that she could be better. Fiyero has basically said nothing against her, even less than in the show. This is all her criticising herself.

But it’s interesting what she says. It’s not the usual “no your opinions on why I am green are stupid” stuff, it’s vulnerable stuff. It’s her admitting that all the things people say to her, and the way she’s treated hurt, that she would dearly like to just be normal. Without really realising it, she’s allowing Fiyero to see a lot more of herself that she usually lets on.

“Do you ever let anyone else talk?”

This is a mask slip for Fiyero. Not in a big way, but it’s him suddenly having to be direct and real with her. Elphaba makes Fiyero have to express real feelings and emotions (even if at the moment it’s mostly frustration).

“Sorry.”

Fiyero letting his mask slip breaks Elphaba out of her rant. Again, it’s the same in the musical, but I do think there’s an added part in the movie where it references Fiyero calling out her defensiveness in the first scene. It gives Elphaba a second to reassess and realise it wasn’t an attack. She apologises, she’s also out of her natural comfort zone of unrelenting defensiveness.

“I just-”

“But can I just say one more thing?”

[Fiyero motions for her to go ahead]

“You could have walked away back there”

The realisation the Fiyero isn’t attacking her has allowed Elphaba to rethink, and for it to sink in what Fiyero has actually done, that he didn’t just freak out and run away, that he cared, that he helped her. And I think this sobers her up a little, to question and to see Fiyero in a new light.

[Fiyero shrugs] “So?”

I always find this line so interesting, because Fiyero hasn’t noticed yet that his mask has slipped. He acted on instinct to help Elphaba, to save the Cub, we see here that Fiyero’s natural instinct to care about things has never been very well hidden (which is why the mask is completely off by the time we hit Act 2).

“So, no matter how shallow and self absorbed you pretend to be.”

“Um, excuse me, there is no pretence here, I happen to be genuinely self absorbed and deeply shallow.”

I love this line. Obviously I love this line. I’ve loved it for 15 years. Have you seen my username?

But anyway, now he’s been made aware of what he’s been called out for Fiyero pulls himself back, tries to put his walls up again.

It’s interesting, because this line is obviously an old one, but it fits very well with Jonathan’s movie Fiyero persona, it’s more self derogatory humour, it’s more deflection, but it’s also something so dumb that someone genuinely dumb probably wouldn’t say it. It’s not really up to his usual standards of charm, Elphaba has, once again, put Fiyero on the back foot.

“Oh please. No you’re not, otherwise you wouldn’t be so unhappy.”

[awkward silence as they stare each other down]

Elphaba is not buying Fiyero’s words. She tells him straight out that he’s more than that, completely rejecting his happy, carefree, persona. She’s seen that he wants more out of life than this.

Again, such interesting parallels to Fiyero calling out Elphaba’s defensiveness in their movie meeting.

“Fine, if you don’t want my help.”

Fiyero is scared. And for the first time we see him react in anger. His normal act of charm and stupidity has not worked at all, so he falls back to having to try and push her away without this.

“No, I do.” [Elphaba grabs Fiyero’s hand]

I mean obviously there’s supposed to be some kind of electricity here, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s Fiyero and Elphaba having realised they’ve found a kindred spirit. That both of them have suddenly found themselves vulnerable, without masks, and really seeing each other for the first time. They have let each other into more of their feelings than they expected to and it’s both elating and terrifying.

[Back in the classroom Galinda wakes up, notices both Fiyero and Elphaba are gone]

I feel like this is supposed to be the first niggling hint Galinda gets that there are feelings between Elphaba and Fiyero, especially because the “I’m not that girl” chords in the background start here rather than in the background of Fiyero and Elphaba’s scene. Like nothing right now enough to truly alarm her, but something she’ll look back on and realise this was the start.

“What did you mean to do back there? And why was I the only one you didn’t do it to?”

[long silence]

“You’re bleeding.”

Suddenly Fiyero is the one challenging Elphaba, asking her questions she’s scared of answering. And she, like Fiyero, isn’t quite ready to face what it means, so she changes the topic.

“Mhmm” [Elphaba reaches out to touch Fiyero’s scratch, at first Fiyero flinches, but then lets her], “there. It must have scratched you.”

“Yeah, or maybe it scratched me or something.”

This change of topic does not work at all, just ends up bringing them closer. Although, I must say, I miss how much it was an almost kiss in the musical. I feel like this version had a bit less chemistry, which was a shame. Still, it is the pinnacle of the sexual tension, where something more could happen and they both know and want it.

 [Fiyero retreats] “I’d better get to safety, the Cub.”

With this line and the last we see Fiyero go back to full on saying dumb shit when Elphaba flusters him (we saw it when he first met her, and will see it again in the throne room). Fiyero is often very smooth with words so it’s always telling when she renders him unable to use this.

“Of course.”

“Get the Cub to safety.” [Fiyero grabs the Cub and runs away]

[Elphaba gets up and shouts after him] “Fiyero!”

Fiyero chickens out, scared by his feelings. Elphaba calls out after him. Both of them are changed by the day and the challenge to their personas but both end up, in their own ways, talking themselves back into them. Fiyero goes back to Galinda, who loves him for his dumb playboy persona, while Elphaba sings a song essentially saying she’s not good enough for him because of who she is and how he’ll like Galinda better. But we know for the future that it is obviously something that sticks with them and will alter their actions and perceptions of each other going forward.

Fiyero and Elphaba have always been a story of two people afraid to show the world who they really are, who dislike the other’s persona but who discover that they both love the other for the traits they hide from the world. While this scene isn’t necessarily that different from its musical counterpart (which is also excellent), I do think the softening of Fiyero and some of the antagonism from Elphaba, puts a little bit of a different spin on things. It makes it very clear that they are two people that share ideals and, while they hide from the world, both, when push comes to shove, will do anything to make it a better place. I think the movie does an excellent job to show why they suit and are attracted to each other, and also a good job of foreshadowing that neither of them will ultimately shy away from giving up everything to do what is right.

An In Depth Study of Elphaba and Fiyero in the Train Station Scene

[beckyninja]

Hope

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: So. Much. Angst.

Description: Guilliman mourns his beloved's "death".

Oof, this was a rough one to write, even though it's short. I've really put this poor blueberry through the wringer.

(This is a continuation of my Guilliman x Reader series. To find the previous chapters, check out my Masterlist.)

Guilliman observed the rage in Captain Takahashi’s black eyes as if from a great distance. Dimly, he registered her voice as she bent over the holographic star map.

“We will come to the beginning of the Wards in a few standard hours’ time.” She gestured with her left arm, the right ending in a bandaged stump just below the elbow. “I’ll need a moment to observe the maelstrom and discern the patterns, before I can begin imparting instructions.”

The Chief Navigator stood at her elbow, double-jointed fingers steepled before his gray lips. “These ‘Wards’, you say? They are a… maze, in the Warp?”

“And out of it.”

“How is this possible?”

Guilliman let his gaze drift between the two.

The Captain’s eyes remained fixed on the map. “You’d call it, Archeotech. The secrets of its creation have been lost to time though, thank the Light, TerraNova’s original colonists preserved the knowledge of its maintenance. I am no engineer, but every school child learns how our forebears scattered mechanical ‘beacons’ of a sort behind them as they fled the Machine War.” 

Pressing her remaining hand to her lips, she gave a single, tearing cough. A medica in a charred uniform, half her face bandaged, stepped forward.

“Captain, you should return to the infirmary for your next round of anti-rads.”

Captain Takahashi waved her away. “In a moment, Lieutenant.” She returned to the star map. “As I was saying, these ‘beacons’ emit frequencies that twist both the Warp and Realspace, bending reality and unreality into a knot of ever-shifting pathways. The Wards.”

The Navigator’s white eyes widened. “As a child I heard rumors… stories of Navigators caught in such knots… driven mad….” His head jerked toward the Captain. “How do your people pass through such insanity?”

“Few ever do.” The Captain’s lips tightened. “But for those who must, we are taught to recognize the patterns in the maelstrom, our reflexes sharpened to make split-second navigational corrections. It is a brutal process, and in the last few decades has mostly been delegated to new navigational computers.” A sharp snort. “Mine, which now happens to be charred debris in the void.”

Something rose inside Guilliman, clawing at his shield of detachment. “You made promises, Captain Takahashi.”

Every soul in the room, even his Ultramarines, flinched. The TerraNovan Lieutenant cowered back against a wall. 

The Captain trembled a moment, then turned to face him. “I did. And I will keep them, Lord Guilliman.” Her eyes rose to his face, but did not meet his gaze. “I am of the last generation of naval officers trained to manually navigate the Wards. I will see your fleet through.”

“Some would call your actions treasonous.”

Her eyes managed to meet his. “All those to whom I swore oaths of service betrayed me, Lord Guilliman. Because of them, hundreds of my crew are dead. Not just proud voidsmen and women of our Navy, but the families who sailed with them. Children. The ship we called our home lies a broken corpse.”

Her eyes dropped away. “I failed them. And I failed the only one of our royal family for whom I felt any true loyalty. Let them call it treason.” She clenched her one fist.

“I call it vengeance.”

For a brief moment, a flicker of understanding passed between them. Primarch and Captain. He felt himself nod before turning away and exiting the room.

He moved without conscious thought, feet following patterns drilled into him long before his ten thousand year stasis. Corridors, doors, people all passed in a blur. The cacophony of the ship morphed into a meaningless babble. Vaguely, he registered the heavy tramp of ceramite boots behind him.

Too late did he realize his destination.

The door to your quarters stood before him.

No….

His hand reached for the control panel.

No…!

He watched himself enter the code, heard the hiss of sliding metal as the portal opened into darkness.

Stop….

But his body refused to obey. Or, perhaps, it obeyed some urge far more powerful than conscious will. He heard himself ordering his guard to remain outside, and stepped through the door…

…into memory.

Your scent rose all around him, overwhelming, choking. It shattered the frigid defenses he’d erected around his mind and hearts. It stabbed. It soothed. He loved it. He hated it.

He stumbled forward, hands pawing blindly until they met the bed. His knees buckled. He crashed to the floor, hands still tangled in the sheets that smelled achingly of you. 

You…you…you…you….

You, standing before him for the first time, single heartbeat fluttering like a bird in his ears.

You, face earnest as you advocate for the home and people you care for.

You, giggling at one of his ill-timed, foolish jests.

You, laid out beneath him, eyes shining as you tell him you love-

“No…,” Guilliman groaned, “stop. Please….”

The memories ceased, replaced by something far, far worse.

You, dressed in purest white, standing before him at the altar, pledging love and faithfulness for the rest of your days.

You, blushing fiercely, as he presents their new Lady to the cheering crowds of Macragge.

You, panting his name as he worships your perfect body.

“No, no, no!” He buried his face in your sheets, only for the concentrated fragrance they carried to unlock his most searing fantasy.

You, glowing with joy as you bounce a golden-haired child on your hip, your belly growing round yet again.

“Pater! Pater!”

“Come, Roboute! Work will wait. Come spend time with your family, my love!”

Roboute Guilliman, Primarch, Lord Regent of the Imperium of Man, wept.

He did not weep as he had as a young man when Konor Guilliman, his true father, lay dying before him. He did not weep as he had when, after his reawakening, he discovered the memorial to Tarasha Euten deep within the Fortress of Hera.

Even in those times, he’d known there to be a future beyond his pain.

But now….

Fabric tore as his fists clenched around the sheets. He raised his eyes to find one of the innumerable skulls carved into every surface upon the ship. A grisly symbol of the deity supposedly watching over them all.

“Why?” His voice felt ripped from the bleeding center of his being. “If you have the power people say, why do you use it to torment me?” 

He staggered to his feet, still clasping the torn sheets. “Have I not given enough? Did you find me undeserving of even the smallest modicum of happiness? Why, then, did you let me feel it, only to rip it away?”

His next words came as an agonized roar. “Why did you give me hope?!”

The very cruelest of punishments.

Guilliman looked down at the shreds of fabric in his hand. “What did she do to deserve your ire?”

But, deep within, he knew the truth. The Emperor had not doomed you. He had. His love was a poison worse than any follower of Nurgle could concoct.

Hadn’t everyone he ever cared for died?

“I am sorry. Oh Throne, I am so sorry, my love.” Once again, he buried his face in your fragrance. “Forgive me. Please, forgive me.”

He knew he tortured himself. He also knew he deserved it.

Vengeance and rage could only light his steps for so long. He would destroy all who had taken you from him. And then their fire would flicker out, leaving him with nothing but a cold, lonely trudge into the gray of the future.

At the thought, all strength left him. 

Roboute Guilliman curled onto the floor, knees tucked to his chest, whimpering like a child left alone in the dark.

…ping….

His eyes snapped open.

…ping…ping….

He clawed to his feet, chest heaving in great gasps. 

…ping….

Guilliman hurtled from the room, nearly bowling over Cato Sicarius. The Commander’s queries went unheeded as he crashed through the great gilded doors at the end of the corridor and into his personal office.

ping…ping…ping…

There, on his desk, lay a small vox receiver, gifted to him by Captain Takahashi. The unfamiliar device was set to receive one specific frequency from one specific source: a miniaturized beacon set into a band of gold and sapphire.

A band he’d placed upon your finger minutes before you left the Macragge’s Honor.

“If you need me, press the largest gem in the ring. A beacon will activate.” He’d grasped your chin, ensuring you looked into his eyes. “And I will come for you.”

Ping!

The receiver lit with a pulsing, golden light.

And hope, that cruelest and most enduring of flames, ignited in Guilliman’s hearts once more.

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[dyaz-stories]

put your arms around me and i'm home || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

summary: In the dead of winter, you have to do a run to go get fuel for your generator. Things go wrong, but fortunately, Hyun-Su is here to save you.

word count: 3.7k

warnings & tags: canon-typical violence, gore, monsters, hyun-su and reader get injured, reader briefly thinks hyun-su is dead, monster!hyun-su makes a brief appearance, hyun-su needs a hug and he gets one!, angst, hurt/comfort, season 2 canon compliant.

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A/N: this can be read on its own, but there is another one-shot, if you're interested! for context, this takes place during season 2. reader and hyun-su know each other from high school and reader runs into hyun-su after the events of the first three episodes. reader also doesn't know that he is a monster/neohuman.

You’re not one to get caught off guard, not usually. You’ve always been cautious, measured, far-sighted. It had been an advantage back in high school, and you’re pretty sure it’s what kept you alive thus far.

Yet, in this new world that you never asked to be a part of, unforeseen complications were the norm. You could plan, and plan, and plan ahead, but here you were, freezing in your living room, because the biting cold of the lasting winter meant that you’d run out of fuel for your small generator, and everything else you used to generate electricity wasn’t functioning the way it should.

If you didn’t want to freeze to death, you had to act, and act quick.

You’d already held out a few more days than was reasonable, hoping that the weather would clear and your solar panels would be useful again, or — but you hadn’t dared to voice that thought — that Hyun-Su would come by, and you could ask for his help. He’d offered before, after all, even if he had always kept you at arm’s length whenever you’d returned the favor.

But things were dire now, and you couldn’t wait any longer, so you’re kneeling in your living-room, preparing yourself for a hazardous trip in the outside, shivering as you do. Things are dangerous enough on a good day, but the snow that’s been continuously falling only makes you dread it more. It swallows sounds, means you’ll leave tracks behind you, and you’ll consume twice as much energy just to move around.

The last thing you pack is a map, which you make sure to keep available, though you hope you won’t need it in between breaks.

You’re heading for a four-stories parking lot, where you hope you’ll find fuel in one of the cars, but that’s not the dangerous part. What’s risky is that monsters love these kinds of places, with all their nooks and crannies, all the dark places to hide, and fear already has your heart beating twice as fast as usual before you’ve even opened your door.

Still, you take a steadying breath, haul the backpack over on your shoulders, and exit the house without making a sound.

Everything is quiet outside. Snow is falling gently, and the sight would be heart-warming, if it wasn’t for all the overturned cars, the gaping hole torn into the building opposite from yours by one of those missiles a few months ago, and the worrying fresh footprints going towards the river. The snow also covers the decomposing bodies, and you can only hope that you don’t accidentally step on one as you start walking.

At least it fills your tracks behind you. By the time you’ve reached the other side of the street, which was one once an impossible task due to how bad traffic you used to be, nothing leads back to your door, and you leave with, at least, the reassurance that home will still be here waiting for you when you come back.

If you come back.

There’s comfort in knowing that you’d planned well, this time, to get to the parking lot. You get to your destination with only expected complications. You spot the monsters before they spot you. You have to reroute twice, but that had been accounted for, and you don’t even have to pull out your map. You reach the building right before noon, and after surveying it for a few minutes, you let yourself in before you can chicken out.

In the dark, you make your way to the first floor, where you will be able to have the greyish light of the day, instead of having to use precious batteries for your flashlight.

It’s not long before you’ve picked out the car, a familial minivan with an untouched baby seat in the back. You try not to think about the people it belonged to as you kneel by the side and prepare to siphon the tank. You make quick work of preparing it, with the tanks and hoses you’d brought for that purpose.

Maybe it’s your confidence that’s to blame for what happens next, or maybe it’s another one of these unforeseeable accidents. Either way, you catch movement from the corner of your eye and you jerk your head back as a reflex, but you’re not fast enough and unnaturally long claws dig into your cheek.

You manage not to scream despite the pain, scramble back and away from the van. There, standing on the roof, is a creature. Though it stands on two legs, there is nothing human about it anymore. The side of its face are sagging and drooping like it’s centuries old, covering where you assume its shoulders would be. It brings its claws to its lips, and your realize with horror that your blood is dripping from them.

Bleeding, in this world, might as well be a death sentence. You don’t bother wasting energy in stopping the tears from spilling from your eyes.

“Younnnnng,” the monster screeches. “Give— meeeeee…”

It at least snaps you out of the stupor, and you grab your bat, unwilling to go down without a fight.

But it’s not much of a fight, not when the scent and the noise are waking up all the other creatures hibernating around here.

You swing wildly as the thing, and manage to send it tumbling back. It’s only a short respite though, considering pain is only ever short lived for them, while blood is dripping down your chin and onto the concrete.

You throw your backpack on your shoulders with trembling hands and grab the first cannister that you’ve filled, abandoning the rest behind to start sprinting towards the exit.

You already know you won’t make it. You know you’ll have to run through the pitch dark ground floor, which is no doubt filled with more of those nightmares, and that the chances you’ll make it out on the other side are slim to none.

But you owe it to yourself fight until the very end.

As it stands, you don’t even make it to the downward slope that leads there. There’s the sound of something charging towards you, and then the— the head, it has to be, of a bull-like thing catches you in the ribs, and sends you flying into a car. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, your vision goes blurry, your head starts reeling. You’re aware of the thing crashing into a concrete pillar. It at least stays there, struggling to pull itself out, but that’s barely any relief, because soon enough the first creature is calling out to you again, stretching out a skeletal arm towards you.

“Younnnnnng… Give meeeee…”

It kicks you in the ribs, and you roll onto your back, only to be met with the horrifying sight of its arm in the air, claws out and ready, preparing to cut your throat open.

You refuse to close your eyes.

And then, just as you think everything lost, someone steps in between you and the monster, blocking its arm with your very own baseball bat. You stare blankly at the large back, the unkept black hair, as the man forces it to step back and kicks it in the chest.

Then Hyun-Su turns around, and holds his hand out towards you.

He looks nothing like what you’re used to. He’s usually so lost, so hesitant, when he comes to you. Now he’s focused, purposeful, and in many ways, he reminds you of the boy you once knew, the captain of the football team who would without fail lead his team to victory.

“Let’s go,” he urges you, and when you weakly take his hand, he pulls you to your feet effortlessly.

You wheeze as the two of you run to hide behind a car. You press your free hand against your ribs, hoping to lessen the pain — it doesn’t work, of course.

“It’s going to find me,” you mumble to Hyun-Su as he keeps an eye on the thing. “It can— It can smell my blood.”

Hyun-Su’s head snaps towards you, and his expression darkens at the sight of the wound on your cheek. He lifts his hand halfway, as if to touch it, then lets it fall down again.

“You should—” Your voice breaks. “You should go. If it can find me… It’s not the only one.”

A strange expression that you can’t quite decipher passes on his face, before he shakes his head firmly.

“I’m not leaving you here.”

The relief you feel when he says those words is immediately overshadowed by embarrassment. You shouldn’t be happy. He needs to go, or he will die here with you, and what would the point be in that?

“What— What are you even doing here? How—”

You don’t know if he doesn’t answer on purpose, or if he hears a sound that takes his attention away from you.

“Can you run?” he asks you, glancing over the car.

Your body’s going to hurt like hell when the adrenaline wears out, but for now you give him a decided nod.

“Do you trust me?”

You should probably take your time to answer him, actually think about the question.

“Yes,” you answer instead, like it’s a reflex.

He exhales quietly, squeezes your hand in his.

“Then run.”

Then he’s pulling with him, running at full speed towards the open wall of the parking lot. Fear spikes through you. Even though you’re only on the first floor, it’s still too high to land comfortably. That fear is completely erased by the sight that greets you, briefly, of monsters stumbling and climbing all over each other to make their way up from the ground floor. There is a whole swarm of them teeming here already, and you can’t think of any other way to make it out alive — frankly, you have a hard time believing that this will work. But you cling to your faith in Hyun-Su like your life depends on it, because it does, and when he yells for you to jump, you do it without question.

While you’re flailing in the air, you feel him pulling you towards him. Strong arms wrap around you, and keep you caged and safe. You hit the ground brutally, rolling on the floor until you land on top of him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, painfully pushing you onto your elbows. “Hyun-Su, are— are you okay?”

The obvious answer to the question is ‘no’, and yet Hyun-Su doesn’t look worse for wear as he sits up, his eyes instead going over your body to make sure you weren’t too badly injured.

If you shiver when his hands run up and down your arms, it isn’t because of the cold.

“Let’s move,” he says, letting go of you all too quickly.

But, by the time you’re both on your feet, monsters attracted by the smell of your blood have started falling from the parking lot. The two of you sprint, but you’re no match for them and you know it. You regain the tiniest hope when you make it past a corner, thinking that maybe, just maybe, the snow will swallow your smell if you hide well enough — and then something wraps around your ankle.

In a second, you’re torn out of Hyun-Su’s grasp, and when you manage to roll onto your back to see who your assailant is, all you can do is let out an inhumane scream.

This particular monster has eight legs, like a spider, and its somewhat human torso  and head is completed by two long mandibles instead of a jaw. You manage to grab a knife from your pocket, but by the time you can cut its— web, you suppose, it’s charging towards you at full speed, and it’s close, too close for you to even get on your feet before—

When it attacks you, the first thing you see is what you first identify as a black wing, before you realize that it’s made out of a complex mix of flesh, bone and other materials that you can’t quite recognize, instead of feathers.

The wing pushes the creature back, and then Hyun-Su’s back is in front of you once more.

It’s his, you realize, brain awfully slow all of sudden. The wing. It’s attached to his shoulder, and all you can do is stare in confusion and horror. It flutters as he turns around to look at you.

You’re not fully in control when you scramble back, whole body shaking — because of the second near-death experience in ten minutes or because you’re terrified, you don’t know. What you do know is how hurt he looks, and how he turns his head the other way to face the monsters that are still coming after the two of you.

“You should run,” he says, low enough that you could miss it. He sounds hollow again. “Don’t turn around.”

You shake your head quietly, try to form some words. They all fail you. You don’t— you have no clue what’s happening. All that you know is that Hyun-Su is a monster and that he’s just used that to save your life.

The wave of monsters reach him just a few seconds later, before you’ve managed to decide anything. He pushes them back with practiced ease, one by one. You hate that you’re just sitting here, unable to move, as he fights for your life, yet your body just refuses to answer to you, even if you’re begging it to react.

Soon, the spider is the last one standing — or rather, the last one who hasn’t yet decided that you’d make a fairly meager lunch, considering how hard it is to get to you. It keeps attacking, and Hyun-Su keeps pushing it back, again, and again, until the creature manages to ensnare him in its web. Hyun-Su writhes, manages to pull his wing free, but it’s clear that he’s now at a disadvantage, and the mandibles click threateningly as the monster gets closer and closer to him.

Finally, your body agrees to react.

You run.

You don’t go very far though. You find the cannister you’d dropped and then you’re rushing back to throw the gasoline at the creature, half emptying it. The monster wasn’t paying attention to you, too busy trying to bite Hyun-Su’s head off, but its head snaps towards you when the liquid reaches it. It lets out a threatening hiss, which you ignore.

Instead, you find the lighter in your pocket.

Aim.

And throw.

The screams start right away, but it drops Hyun-Su, at least, as it tries to escape the fire.

For a second, you think you’ve made it — you’ve both made it, that is. Hyun-Su pulls himself to his feet. The wing flutters again, slowly starts to retreat back into his body to go back to a human arm.

He looks at you, expression unreadable.

And then one of the spider’s limb pierces through his chest. It’s not even calculated this time — just a movement it’s making as it tries to free itself from the flames that are consuming it.

You hear yourself scream. You don’t remember asking your body to move, this time, but you know that a second later you’re reaching Hyun-Su as he falls to his knees, and your arms are around him while you cradle him, pulling his head into your lap. Tears fall down your cheeks and onto his, as one of your hands tries, and fails, to apply pressure to the gaping wound, even if you know there is no point.

“No,” you beg. “No, no, no, no… Please, please, someone, please…”

You don’t know how many times you say it, how long you stay there. Snow starts to cover both his body and yours, and you realize you have a decision to make, if you don’t want to freeze to death. You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

Until Hyun-Su’s lifeless body arches in your arms with a gasp.

When his eyes open, they’re a clear, cold, uncanny blue.

You don’t dare to do anything then — not to let go of him, not to move away, not to break eye contact. It makes no sense, but you’re afraid that the slightest movement would have him gone again.

Slowly, his lips curve into a smirk, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. You’ve seen him smile, bright and sincere, and more recently, soft and subdued. But this amused, flirtatious smirk, that is completely new.

“You’re still here,” he comments, casually getting up, like nothing happen, like he can’t feel pain, like there isn’t a hole in his chest.

Even his voice is different. There’s a drawl to it, light and lazy, like he has all the time in the world.

“Hyun-Su?” you say, unsure of what’s happening. He was dead a minute ago. Then again, now that he’s breathing again, your brain is able to form the thought that he is a monster. An abnormal one, sure, and you don’t know enough to draw any conclusion, but it could be an explanation.

The smirk widens.

“Close enough,” he answers. “Are you scared?”

You’re not sure. You think you’re too emotionally exhausted to be scared.

“Should I be?” you ask. Maybe you shouldn’t trust this version of him to tell you the truth, and yet— All your senses are telling you that this is still Hyun-Su. And you don’t think he’d do anything to hurt you. Ever.

“It would break him if you got hurt,” not-Hyun-Su says, tilting his head. He lifts his index finger to tilt your head up. “I don’t want him broken.”

“Is he—” You interrupt yourself, unsure of what even is happening right now. But before you can start asking for answers, there is something you need to know. “Is Hyun-Su okay right now?”

He scoffs.

“He’s taking a break,” he replies. “He’s worked hard.” A beat while he seems to think about it. “Also, he thinks you hate him now.”

“I could never hate him,” you say, too easily, because it’s just the truth.

“Well, he is a monster,” not-Hyun-Su says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just stating a fact. You suppose he’s not wrong, and yet…

“The people I loved all turned into monsters,” you whisper quietly. Your mother, before you even made it home. Your best friend, who begged for death so she wouldn’t hurt others. Your father, who disappeared to protect you. You miss them all so much it sometimes feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest, and you’d give anything to have them back. So, if there is any way that you can still have Hyun-Su… “As long— as long as he’s not trying to kill me, does it really matter?”

The man watches you with interest, tilting his head to the side. It’s interesting. You haven’t been hurt by this world the way others have. Monsters caused death and destruction, but you watched half-monsters doing their very best to avoid hurting others, not unlike what Hyun-Su is doing right now.

The monster in him wonders what it would take, to destroy that ill-placed trust in others around you. The rest of him… is far too intrigued to give in. He grabs your chin between his thumb and his index finger, pulls your face closer to his.

“Doesn’t it?” he echoes your words. “What if I do hurt you?”

You swallow, call back the images of Hyun-Su easily taking out these monsters earlier. But you can’t forget that he’d been doing it to protect you.

“Y–You won’t,” you reply, even if your stutter betrays your lack of confidence.

It’s a leap of faith, but it seems to amuse him.

“For now,” he says, before his eyes roll into his head and Hyun-Su collapses in your arms.

You stumble back, barely manage to keep him up, before he seems to regain some control over his limbs and starts coughing. Even then, you don’t let go of him. You wrap both of your arms around him, head resting against his shoulder, and keep him there, against you.

Hyun-Su remains still for a while, breathing pained and ragged. The snow is still falling, but his body is warm.

“Are you okay?” he whispers with a hoarse voice.

“I am,” you answer. “Thanks to you.”

He lets out a pained sigh.

“Did he— Did he hurt you?”

You shake your head, barely moving away so you can look at him. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his eyes — black again, you note — fixedly in the other direction.

Like he can’t bear to know which emotion is on your face right now.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” you say quietly. “I thought— I thought I’d lost you forever.”

Silence.

“Don’t leave me,” you beg, voice so low and broken you don’t think he’d hear if he wasn’t inches from you.

Hyun-Su’s body starts shaking against yours. Finally, finally, he wraps an arm around your waist, burying his head in your neck, and wet tears roll down your collarbone. In the freezing cold weather, they feel burning hot.

“Don’t hate me,” he begs in response, crying in your arms, fingers digging to the fabric of your clothes in a desperate attempt to keep you there, against him — even if there is no need for that right now.

You wish you could tell him that he just saved your life, that he’s been a guiding light in your cold, dark life this past few months, that you love him more than words can say. But that would take too long, and the situation calls for something shorter, more direct, and just as meaningful.

“You’re the only good thing about this world,” you say instead, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Under the snow, for long minutes, Hyun-Su holds you like he never wants to let go.

When the two of you eventually detach from each other, he keeps your hand in his the whole walk home.

i hope you liked this installment! i'm probably going to write something much softer next, still for this couple (but it's hyun-su so it's still going to be angsty). if you're enjoying this, please let me know your thoughts, reblog or send in an ask. hearing from readers is so motivating and makes me want to keep writing!

next part

[faebaex]

Accidentally Courting an Eel Ⅰ

author note: oooops I was supposed to post this days ago but then it somehow ended up being almost 5k words?? And this is only part 1?? Sorry sorry, I hope you enjoy it! A lot of chaos here, the only one who shows any kind of sense is Ruggie, we love you king! also many character cameos as well! i hope i did them justice

warnings: Cursing, violence, reader is quite a feisty and angry person tbh

characters: Floyd Leech x F!Reader

Your world had been turned upside down when you had returned from summer break. Intent to start your second year, you instead went to your first day of the semester only to find out that your mage school was closing and being absorbed by another school. In a whirlwind, you found yourself in the prestigious Night Raven College opening ceremony, being placed in a dormitory posthaste (you found yourself sorted into Heartslabyul, your new housewarden seemed absolutely unhinged) and then expected to continue in as normal. You had no idea why your academy closed, or why such a prestigious college was so willing to absorb an indie mage academy with a small student cohort and an obscure reputation, and those questions were never answered. Life just kind of… Went on.

Whilst the arrival of new students at the start of a new academic year wasn’t strange, it was entirely unusual to receive sophomore and senior students with the incoming batch of freshmen, so there was a lot of excitement that followed the first couple of weeks that you and the rest of your previous cohort had at Night Raven College. Lots of eyes on you, sizing you up and trying to get an idea of what you were worth… And for you, that meant a few fights.

You were known in your previous academy as being quite fiery, not hesitating to throw hands if you needed to, despite being on the shorter side compared to your peers. You were a scrapper, and a dirty one at that, more than willing to bite, scratch and pull hair if it meant that you could get the upper hand. It had gotten to the point that you began wearing shorts underneath your skirt, so that you had more freedom of movement if you needed to kick someone where the sun didn’t shine. You had the most spats with the Savanaclaw dorm, growing sick of being shoulder bumped and generally harassed by the predominantly beastman dorm. After the first couple of fights and during your next, you’d found yourself thrown over the shoulder of the Savanaclaw housewarden, Kingscholar, and extracted from the situation. You received a rather stern lecture on how you needed to stop getting into fights with his boys (which you gave him a few choice words right back) but after that, you seemed to find yourself getting bothered a lot less by the Savanaclaw students. And to be honest, a lecture from Kingscholar was miles more bearable than a lecture from housewarden Rosehearts. There were only so many apology essays you could write, after all.

After a few weeks, the novelty of having new students wore off and you were able to carry on with your school life without much issue. Sure, you got into a few fights here and there occasionally, but nothing too major, enough for you to skate under the detection of housewarden Rosehearts. After all, nothing was worse than sitting through a Rosehearts lecture. Weeks blended into months, and soon you were far into your first semester, and had rather gotten used to life at Night Raven College. You’d even managed to build some sort of rapport with your housewarden, who was less on your back now that your constant fighting had calmed down.

You found yourself sighing as you made your way to the potions lab, leafing through your notes on the way. Professor Crewel had set up and assignment and paired everyone off and to be honest, the assignment had been a complete nightmare. Together, you and your partner were supposed to brew an energy boosting potion, but you had to figure out the ingredients and brewing method with only a few hints and clues along the way. Crewel refused to give further instruction apart from surveying the ingredients selected by students, to ensure no dangerous mishaps could occur, stating with a slap of his whip that the whole point of the assignment was for students to study the potion and ingredients available to them to create the potion. Unfortunately for you, your partner for this assignment didn’t have the best grade in potionology, and considering that this assignment was graded, anything short of a good pass would have housewarden Rosehearts chasing you around the dorm demanding an explanation. Thankfully, you seemed close to finishing the assignment, the ginger root you required as your last ingredient finally having finished distilling. You were on your way to the potion lab after classes now to meet with your partner to finish brewing the potion and finally be free of the assignment that had been weighing around your neck for the last few weeks.

Or so you thought.

When you entered the lab, your lab partner was waiting there as expected, but you knew at first glance that something was up. The closer you got to him, the paler you noticed his face was, and you couldn’t help raising your brow as you stopped beside him. “What’s up?” You queried, placing your notes on the desk and putting down your bag by your chair. A few other students were milling around the potions lab, trying to finish their own assignments, one of them being Ruggie, a Savanaclaw student you usually saw running around after Kingscholar. He looked rather sheepish, his ears twitching as he stared hard at his own assignment. Your eyes fell back to your lab partner, who still looked like he would rather sink through the floor than be in the lab at that moment. “Well? Are you ready to finish the assignment? The ginger root should have distilled now so all we need to do is brew—”

“Um… About the ginger root…” Your lab partner began in a small voice, and you could see sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, “I think we are going to have to distil it again…” You blinked and stared blankly at your lab partner, as if he had suddenly grown an extra limb. “Distil it again? It took us 2 days to distil the first vial! What happened to the one we distilled?” You asked, frustration clear in your tone and mounting fast. If your lab partner wanted to sink through the floor before, now he wanted the ground to just open and swallow him whole. His eyes darted around nervously and he leaned forwards, closing the gap between you so he could whisper to you, “someone… Took it.”

You stared incredulously at him, “do you know who?” Your partner nodded; his eyes glued to the floor. “Then just take it back!” You hissed, at a loss at why your lab partner didn’t just retrieve your ginger root and resolve the situation, but his eyes shot up at your words and he looked terrified at the suggestion. “N-no way!” He stuttered, his face somehow becoming paler, “look, lets just wait a few days. I’ll distil another vial, I’ll do all the work—”

“Who took it?” You demanded flatly.

“Just forget about it, we still have time—”

“Who. Took. It.” You repeated sharply, your eyes narrowing into a glare on your lab partner. He swallowed thickly, and he discreetly nodded his head in the direction of the culprit. Your eyes left your lab partner and settled on the culprit, and you crossed your arms over your chest. “Look,” your lab partner started, moving to put a hand on your arm, “Just leave it, whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea—”

“Wait here.”

You brushed off your lab partner’s hand as you began walking over to the culprit, who had his back to you as he leafed through the ingredients in the potionology inventory. He was tall, towering over you even when you weren’t that close to him yet, with teal coloured hair and roughly put together uniform. You could spy what you assumed to be your vial of ginger root tucked into the crook of his hand as he thumbed through the rest of the jars and bottles on the shelf, clearly looking for ingredients to complete his own assignment. And apparently, he had decided that your ginger root was his for the taking.

“Oi. Give back my ginger root.” You demanded, glaring at the back of the culprit’s head.

“Ahh~? Get lost, guppy. I’m workin’ here.” The culprit drawled back, not even bothering to look back at you as he continued to flip through ingredients, not a care in the world.

“Yeah? Well, you’ll be working on your ass if you don’t give me back my ginger root.” You retorted, folding your arms across your chest as you continued to glare. That seemed to get his attention, as he turned around to face you. His eyes seemed to light up when he caught sight of you, a wild grin spreading across his lips, showcasing his freakishly sharp teeth. Yikes.

“Ahaa~ You’re real tiny, little guppy. Hey, why don’t you come get your ginger root back?” He challenged, a glint in his eyes that immediately told you that this guy was going to mess with you. You tried to reach for the vial, but he quickly snatched it away, dangling it high in the air over your head with a spiteful grin. “Ah, ah, ah guppy, you’ll have to try harder than that. C’mon, jump for it.”

You clicked your tongue, feeling your blood boiling at his attitude. You stood on the tips of your toes, and even then, you were barely closer to his face. “None of us will have ginger root when I shove that vial so far down your throat no one will have to hear your annoying voice again.” You hissed at him lowly, your lips twisted up in an annoyed snarl. All amusement and mocking sank out of his face as his own face darkened, his pupils shrinking as he now began to glare at you. “You got alotta nerve, guppy. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

The two of you glared at each other, and he leaned forward with menacing intent, “Maybe I should do you a favour and squeeze some sense into ya.” He said, all previous drawl lost from his tone as he threatened you now. You scoffed, having had more than enough of this guy. You quickly reached forward and yanked that stupid black lock of hair that hung down his face, catching him by surprise and using that opportunity to push him back, making him collide into the ingredients shelf, the jars and vials rattling precariously from the impact. You tried to reach for vial of ginger root, that now also balanced dangerously in his hand, but before you could reach it, his arms suddenly locked around your middle, lifting you off the ground and squeezing. You felt your ribs begin to protest as he crushed you, and you hissed in pain, your legs kicking violently at whatever you could in an attempt to get free. You could vaguely hear the sound of smashing glass, but you couldn’t focus on that. Now when he was staring down at you, a smug smile spreading across his lips as he watched you struggle. It made you seethe. You twisted and kicked, and somehow managed to free your left arm. Striking before he could restrain you again, you took your chance and seized hold of his earring and yanked. You heard him grunt as the earring came away in your hand, but it still wasn’t enough for him to let you go, so you turned your head and sank your teeth into his arm. He froze when you did that, his hands slackening enough that you slipped out of his grasp altogether, your feet hitting the floor quicker than you expected, almost making you fall backwards. You steadied yourself, readying a follow up attack when he was still stunned frozen after you bit him, only to feel yourself yanked backwards at the waist and thrown over someone’s shoulder, moving at such a nimble speed that the ginger root stealing culprit was soon leaving your sight as you were whisked out of the potions lab.

“Put me down!” You seethed, trying to lean up in your captor’s grasp, your hand pressing into their shoulder. “Ruggie?! What do you think you’re doing? Put me down right now!” Ruggie ignored your complaints, running through the corridor with surprising ease despite you being on his shoulder, zipping through winding corridors like this wasn’t his first time.

“No can do. If Leona found out you’d been fighting again and I was there and didn’t do anything, he’d have my tail.” Ruggie grumbled, his ears going flat at the thought, “and with Floyd Leech of all people! I mean this respectfully but, Y/N are you nuts? You gotta have a death wish.” Ruggie continued to spout off about how you had not perception of threat or danger, just throwing your hands left, right and centre without any care for who you were dealing with. You scrunched up your face, a lecture from Ruggie not on your bingo card for the year, that’s for sure.

“Who is Floyd Leech?” You grumbled sourly, starting to feel a little dizzy from a combination of the blood rushing to your head and how quickly Ruggie sped through the corridors. Ruggie shook his head, glancing up at you incredulously. “Floyd Leech is the guy you just rammed into the potions inventory, and probably in every student in this school’s top 10 guys not to mess with ranking. High up too, I imagine.” Ruggie commented dryly, his speed slowing to a slow jog as he seemed to near to the destination you had in mind. “Crewel is going to kill you by the way, if Floyd doesn’t first. You absolutely totalled his potionology inventory for that lab.”

You groaned at that, the consequences of your actions starting to rear their ugly head. Either way, housewarden Rosehearts would have your head, if there was anything left of it after Crewel was done with you. You didn’t get a chance to wallow, as Ruggie slowed to a stop and gently lowered you off of his shoulder. You looked around, only to notice you were standing outside of the infirmary. “Why did you bring me here? I’m fine.” You questioned, only for Ruggie to give you another stunned look, his tail flickering anxiously behind him.

“What? Y/N… Uh… Your legs are kinda…” Ruggie trailed off and you looked down, your eyes widening as you saw an array of cuts down your bare legs, dripping blood down to your socks. “Oh… Oops.” You muttered, looking a little sheepish. Ruggie scratched behind his ear, looking slightly awkward himself. “Yeah… You should probably get those checked out…”

You sighed as you turned to the infirmary door, a small grimace on your lips. “Thanks, Ruggie… Feel free to tell housewarden Kingscholar that you saved the day.” That seemed to brighten the mood a little bit, Ruggie’s characteristic smile starting to come back to his face. “You bet I will, shishishi…” With that, he scurried off, leaving you to enter the infirmary alone. As you were about to push the door open, you noticed the something in your hand, opening it to reveal a teal earring clutched in your fist. You sighed again, having completely forgotten in the heat of the moment that you’d torn that out of Floyd’s ear. Not knowing how to deal with it, you slid it into your skirt pocket and entered the infirmary.

You sighed as you trudged back to your dorm room, rubbing your head with a tired expression. You’d barely finished having the cuts on your legs checked for glass and cleaned when Professor Crewel had come marching into the infirmary to tear you a new one. You swear your ears were still ringing from the crack of his whip, knowing you’d be hearing it in your nightmares for the next couple of days at the least. You’d been instructed to attend the potionology lab after classes tomorrow to clean up the mess you’d made, and for whatever other punishment Crewel deemed necessary for however many days he deemed. You fully expected to get chewed out by Crewel even more tomorrow when you attended your detention, but that was something to dread tomorrow.

You’d survived your encounter with Floyd Leech largely unharmed, luckily the cuts on your legs not having any glass stuck in them and shallow enough that they’d likely heal in a couple of days, easily bandaged up to keep them clean. Your ribs, however, were bruised and hurt like a bitch, but again, it could have been worse. Surprisingly, another thing that could be worse was the reaction from Housewarden Riddle once you had gotten back to the dorm. He was waiting for you by the doors to be dorm, and you expected to lose your head immediately. Instead, you sat through a two-and-a-half-hour lecture about how unacceptable your behaviour was and how he expected you to apologise to Crewel sincerely posthaste, as well as demanding you write a 2000 word apology essay. But oddly enough, Riddle seemed more irked that it was Floyd Leech that you had gotten into a fight with, warning you to keep clear of him if you valued your education.

Floyd Leech this, Floyd leech that. All everyone talked about was Floyd damn Leech, like he was some sort of terror on campus. Although you had to admit, if he managed to even rile Riddle up to that extent, maybe there was something about him.

Either way, you didn’t really care. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off an hour ago, and you were beyond exhausted. You pushed open the door to your dorm room and flopped face down onto your bed, ready to pass out into oblivion, only to feel a stabbing pain in your thigh. You groaned dramatically and rolled onto your back, patting at the bed to try and find the source of your irritation. Finding nothing, you patted at your thigh, slipping your hand into your pocket and feeling something jingle. With a quizzical hum, you pulled out a set of teal jewels, squinting at it in confusion, before it finally clicked.

Floyd Leech’s earring.

You held it up to the light, watching the light shine off of the three jewels that dangled from the simple golden stud. It was quite pretty, actually. As you continue to gaze at the earring as it dangled between your fingers, you noticed that the chain that attached the teal jewels to the stud were slightly damaged. You sat up, bringing the earring closer to your face to inspect it. Huh, it must have gotten damaged when you had pulled it out of Floyd’s ear… You turned the earring around in your hand, giving it another look over whilst you mulled over what you should do. Standing, you made your way to your desk, turning on the desk lamp and laying the earring carefully on the desk, you got to work…

“I don’t want to see a single shard of glass on that floor. Do you understand, pup?”

“Yes sir.” You muttered dejectedly, beginning to sweep up the mounds of glass that littered the battered potions inventory. You had to admit, you and Floyd had done a number on it, the floor chaotic with smashed glass and spilt ingredients, plant leaves mushed together from being trodden underfoot and staining the tiles of the lab. You sighed quietly under your breath, knowing that it was going to take a long time to clean all of this up.

As you cleaned, your eyes kept flickering to the door. You weren’t the only one who was supposed to be cleaning up this mess. Floyd was supposed to be here too. However, he had yet to turn up, so the lion’s share of the work was currently left to you. Crewel sat at his desk, grading alchemy papers whilst keeping an eye on your progress, probably to heckle you if your progress slowed. Your ribs still throbbed dully, protesting every time you bent at the waist to retrieve a particularly hefty chunk of glass, Crewel peering over at you occasionally to make sure you didn’t cut yourself any more than you already were. You could only hope you could get this done quickly so you could leave.

After what felt like hours, you had finally cleaned all the glass and ingredients off the floor, the process taking longer than you anticipated after Crewel insisted that you disposed of the spoiled ingredients properly, and then scolding you for yipping and giving you an impromptu lecture on correct ingredient disposal methods. You were about to pull of your gloves when Crewel once again appeared in front of you, a large cardboard box in his arms that he placed on a nearby desk.

“You’re not finished yet, pup. I expect you to arrange the new ingredients onto the shelves in proper order.” Crewel instructed, and you felt yourself grimace before you could stop yourself.

“Do I have to? Can’t Floyd do it? I cleaned up the entire floor!” You complained, deciding to push your luck anyway. Crewel looked around the room, an eyebrow raised before his eyes fell back on you.

“Do you see Leech anywhere?” Crewel said, and you could tell by his tone that you’d already lost. Why did he have to be so sassy?!

“… No.” You mumbled, cringing as you heard the thwapping of Crewel’s whip against his gloved palm.

“Exactly, now get to work. You can go once I approve the finished inventory.” Crewel ordered, making his way back to his desk whilst you rummaged through the cardboard box of fresh ingredients, a hard done by pout on your face. “Yes sir…”

“Good girl.”

Your entire body felt stiff the next morning, your joints cracking as you stretched with a groan. Floyd had never turned up in the end, leaving you to clean up the entire inventory and restock it, which was no easy task with Crewel’s finicky tastes. It took numerous attempts and lectures on the importance of ingredient storage before Crewel was finally happy enough to grant you freedom, only to miserably crush your spirit by informing you that he expected you to attend to the regrowth of replacement ingredients in the botanical garden for the next 3 days. Lucky you.

The only saving grace was that your initial sentence in the botanical garden had been reduced as a result of Floyd not turning up at all when you were supposed to clean the potionology lab. By the sound of it, Crewel was going to be ensuring that he served his detention in the botanical garden.

You found yourself slightly irritated that Floyd hadn’t turned up to your joint detention. Not only because it meant you had to spend hours cleaning up a mess that arguably wasn’t entirely your fault, but also because you had planned to give him back his earring. You had stayed up late into the night fixing the earring, fairly satisfied with yourself for making it look as good as new. You planned to hunt him down today to give it back to him, no matter what, if only because walking around with it in your pocket made you feel like it was going to inevitably get broken again.

Your fight with Floyd had spread around campus like wildfire, and you had people you didn’t even know commenting on how hardcore you were for going up against Floyd Leech without batting an eyelid. You’d also heard that since the fight, Floyd had been in a foul mood, and it was fifty fifty between students complimenting you and blaming you for being the unfortunate victim of Floyd’s new vile mood.

Either way, Floyd’s mood was not enough to deter you from finding him to return his earring. However, you couldn’t find him in the morning on the way to classes, and you didn’t see him at lunch either. You were wondering if you were going to have to go all the way to the Octavinelle dorm after classes, not really looking forward to that thought and beginning to think about whether this was all really worth it. Maybe you should just flag down a random Octavinelle student and give them the earring and just hope it made its way back to Floyd.

As you were pondering as you walked to your club, you saw a flash of teal at the end of the corridor, looking up quickly to see the retreating figures of a light grey-haired student along with two taller, teal haired students, one with a pretty unmistakable slouch with his hands in his pockets. A-ha!

“Oi! Floyd Leech!” You called, starting to break out into a light jog in case he didn’t stop and turn around. Luck was somewhat on your side, as all three of the students stopped and turned their attention to you, and you vaguely recognised one as the housewarden for Octavinelle. He was currently eyeing you up, meanwhile the teal haired student who wasn’t Floyd was giving you a smile that, whilst coming off polite at face value, reeked of mocking. You ignored them both, slowing to a stop in front of Floyd and boy, the other students were right. He looked like he was in a terrible mood, his eyes narrowed on you like he was about to start another fight.

“What do you want, guppy? I’m busy.” He drawled; his eyebrows furrowed as he frowned down at you. You scoffed at that, shooting your own frown back at him reproachfully. “I was really busy yesterday when someone didn’t turn up to their detention and I had to clean and rearrange the entire potionology inventory by myself.” You shot back at him, narrowing your eyes at him and watching him just stare back at you disinterestedly.

“Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Here.” You fished into your pocket carefully and brought out the teal earring, dangling it carefully between your fingers. If you weren’t so distracted trying to get the earring out of your skirt pocket as gently as possible, you would have seen the flicker of surprise that went across Jade’s expression, or how Azul pushed up his glasses in an attempt to mask his own surprise. “I didn’t realise I still had it on me when I left the potions lab, to be honest. It got a little damaged during the fight, but I managed to fix it so good I bet you can’t even notice!” You weren’t even aware of the proud little beam that was on your face as you spoke of your repair job, or how all three of them stared at you in a veiled mix of surprise, confusion, and awe.

You held the earring out to Floyd for him to take, which he did, all previous traces of irritation washed from his face now as he held his earring in his palm. A silence had fell between you and considering that the situation was already awkward enough as it is, you decided to excuse yourself. “Well, that was all I wanted. I’ll be leaving.” You didn’t wait for any of them to respond, and none of them did as you walked past them and continued on your way to your club activities.

So happy you were to finally have that interaction over with and not have to worry about re-damaging the delicate earring that had made its home in your pocket over the last couple of days, you didn’t notice how Floyd Leech stared wistfully at your retreating back, said earring cradled carefully in his bare palm…

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 1. The Nostromo Killer.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: not detailed murder, feeling of fear, chase. I'm a vicious child of the internet and I have nothing to be ashamed of! And so are you.

The World of the Essence is multifaceted and large, but even taking into account this knowledge, hardly anyone could imagine something like this. The knowledge of where you ended up naturally appears in your head: the Nostromo crash site is a location unknown to anyone, large and open, with a minimum number of bushes in which you could hide from the soulless eyes of the killer, but you were pleased with a large number of smooth, different-sized stones, behind which, theoretically, you can hide.

You found yourself alone. On one side there was an exit from the monster’s lair, on the other side there was a smoking and collapsing spaceship, which was ready to explode at any moment if a person stepped on board carelessly. Your gaze glances across the sky, and although you know that it is not real, you cannot help but be surprised by its beauty: a large satellite against the backdrop of billions of stars illuminates your path in the darkness.

However, there was not a second to lose if you wanted to at least escape from the Nostromo; the four of them could only hope and pray to the Entity to escape.

There is a generator behind you, two more stand out against the gray background inside the fallen ship - it is better to get rid of this triangle, first of all, without giving the killer an advantage. This was a new trend - a fashion - for the “triangle”, as other survivors called this phenomenon, and it must be said that it was very successful, since not many managed to break this vicious “circle” and escape, at least through the hatch.

Thinking about this and hoping that the new (really new?) killer won’t figure this out, you finish repairing the generator, when at the same second you hear a scream from one of your comrades. Very far away, the aura is barely visible, and you can only see a vague red dot between the opened outline of another generator and the two previous ones. A lump forms in your throat, and cold sweat runs down your temple. The thoughts in your head become chaotic: should you go to the rescue? Continue repairing generators? What if someone has already gone to help and you lose precious time?

You can't take risks in new terrain. You don't know where the windows and planks are to escape the killer, and the limited number of places to hide only makes matters worse. With heavy thoughts, your only solution is to continue repairing the generators and hope that someone will save the wounded man.

It's loud and scary on board the Nostromo. Jets of either hot or hungry steam emerge from all the cracks, sparks are heard from damaged equipment, and blood and its smell will forever remain on board. You walk around a couple of corpses of former crew members, trying not to even look at the cause of their death. Every step you take echoes through the empty corridors, but eventually you reach another generator in splendid isolation. The equipment turns out to be a little more than half wound up; Apparently, before being hung on a hook, someone was painstakingly fixing the local generator.

“Thanks for your hard work…” You close your eyes for a second to show your mental gratitude to the other survivor before getting to work. You're almost done with the generator before you make a ridiculously stupid mistake. Sparks, a loud explosion and nervously shaking hands. - “If only he didn’t come! If only he hadn’t come!” - you pray, frantically sorting through the wires in the generator, just to make up for the lost result.

Somewhere below there is a noise of muffled groans. Man, old man… apparently it's Bill! He was repairing the generator and was able to escape from the killer. A joyful thought crosses your mind, but immediately disappears when the seasoned veteran suddenly falls to the ground from the blow, an inhuman cry of victory is heard.

Heart beats faster, like a cornered animal. Thudum, thudum, thudum, thudum.

You walk away from the generator as if from a red-hot piece of iron, afraid to even look in its direction. There were seconds left before you could finish it to one hundred percent, but the fear for your own life was much stronger. Peering out of a hole in the spaceship's hull, you notice a new killer - a creature from outer space. Moving on four legs, having sharp claws as a weapon and a long tail similar to the edge of a knife, you understand that it is unlikely that anyone will be able to escape.

Bill was lucky, he was the first to suffer.

The creature, clad in a durable black shell, lifted the man in front of him to carry him to the nearest hook. Having seen a lot in his life, the old man did not resist, he himself understood that he could not escape the grip of the Entity under his ribs, and therefore did not delay the moment. With a wave passing through the earth, the Entity took the first survivor into its possession. At the same time, like a ray of hope, another generator was repaired. If you return to fixing your generator now, the three survivors will be able to escape.

That's what you thought. So you set to work with enthusiasm, and then one woman’s scream was heard, then another… and now you were left alone, on the Nostromo, next to the working generator. Going somewhere seemed risky, but you could try to save someone still hanging on the hook, while simultaneously praying that you wouldn’t get caught.

Climbing up the wall on trembling legs, you take a bold step forward. Then the second, third, and so on until you reach a fork: you can go straight to your first generator or turn left, going to the last generator from the triangle where your comrades are hanging. It was impossible to take a detour, if only because you would lose precious time and other survivors, by the time you came to the rescue, would sooner find themselves in the arms of the Entity. You had no options…

What had once been a meeting hall or a dining room was now a deplorable sight, because half of the spaceship was shamelessly destroyed and its fragments here and there were stuck deep into the ground. Having looked around the clearing under your feet and the crash site, you quickly find Claudette’s gaze and a girl unknown to you hanging a little behind.

“No! Get out of here!” Morel screams heart-rendingly before engaging in battle with the entity. “He's behind… behind you!” the last thing the girl manages to shout before the spider-like appendage of the Entity pierced her stomach and lifted her into the air. The stranger followed her.

It was scary to turn around. It seems that if you don’t look at the problem, it will disappear on its own, but in reality you feel and hear heavy footsteps behind you, the grinding of metal from the collision with the tail blade, and breathing. Hot, heavy, wet. The creature stands close behind you, with the skin of your back you can clearly feel the loaded plates and bones of the exoskeleton. Thick saliva drips onto your shoulder, viscous, like glue, and will be difficult to wash off your clothes.

“God, what are these thoughts in my head?” - a thought occurs to you before a nervous chuckle escapes your lips. This is from nerves, from the awareness of imminent death.

The creature hisses, its voice is surprisingly high and shrill, and then next to your head, almost centimeters away, there is an incomprehensible something. Everything is covered in saliva, it turns slightly at an angle, first one way, then the other, and the fangs (God, it has fangs!) seem to bite the air. Or maybe it sniffs like that?

There is no strength left to move. Not when there is a strange something dangerously close to your head, the owner of which is standing behind your back, one of whose arms can clasp your entire body and inadvertently break it. You don't want to check the latter. The creature speaks again, and then you understand – it’s time to run!

The energy accumulated over many seconds passes into the legs. You start from your place, as Meg taught you, and run straight along the stones and pieces of metal. The creature, slightly behind you, ran after you and tried to hook you with its sharp claws; slash across the back, and deep enough to leave scars. And although the latter will still disappear, they will be cured in the world of essence, the feeling of blood on the back, skin torn to the flesh and bones, is not pleasant. You turn sharply to the side, just at the moment when a huge paw whistles dangerously close behind you and rushes towards another, smaller, destroyed spaceship.

Perhaps out of fear, but you thought there was a hatch there.

Luck was on your side. Perhaps the offering in the form of a jar of Vigo worked, or maybe the entity itself decided to take pity on you, but you manage to get to the hatch. And before you fall into the fog, you sneak a second to look behind yourself.

The killer stands motionless in place. The killer is watching. And you understand

It is remembered It is developing.

this paragraph:

This work was written as part of the game dead by daylight, because, despite my familiarity with films, it is simply easier for me to write in the setting of this game. If you're not familiar with the game, but want to read how the Xenomorph does its dark work, you're welcome.

should have been at the beginning of the text. I decided to remove it, don’t ask why.

[monstersandgenderqueers]

Little Gifts (Part Four)

Thor needs your help, and it feels like all your progress with Loki crumbles beneath your feet.

Pairing: Loki x neurodivergent!reader

Word count: 2647

A/N: The angst continues. I will it so. Also, everyone's support is shocking and very appreciated. I think I sound like a seagull each time I get a new round of notifications.

This chapter switches between memories of Loki and the present.

Divider credit @/saradika

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You're sitting in a lone armchair by the window near the shared kitchen, watching as the wind ripples the uncut grass on the far side of the pathways. It's mesmerizing. Some part of you, likely the romantic part, yearns to walk barefoot in the grass, feeling all there is to feel in that small little moment. Maybe someone would hold your hand as you walk, carrying your sandals loosely with their long fingers, their raven hair fluttering about in the breeze—

Loki startles you out of the daydream. He's holding your mug in front of your face, steam curling up and away.

"You forgot this in the microwave," he says, retracting his hand as soon as you grab the bottom of the mug.

You look at it, remembering that you put your coffee in the microwave shortly after breakfast, which was… a long time ago.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice small and shy.

He leans against the window, looking out at the lawn as you had been. It takes you a moment to realize that the coffee is hot, hence the steam. While some embarrassment does make your cheeks warm, the amusement from the mental image of Loki trying to work a microwave quickly overrides it.

Loki studies you, likely noticing that flash of emotion. Or maybe he caught the smile that lasted for merely a nanosecond. He's good at that.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, darling."

"Hm?"

"Do you have, erm…" he looks around the room, as if trying to figure out how to ask you, "difficulties?"

"Difficulties..? Like what?"

"I mean no offense, little one, but you are very strange. In an endearing way, I assure you. Puzzling out mortals is usually trivial. But you… One moment, I think I have you all figured out, but then you go and do something, or say something, completely unexpected. Strange and captivating things."

Strange?

"And this means I have difficulties?"

He sighs, a little frown creasing his forehead. "Not on its own, no. You're odd in many novel ways. Combined with your… lack of attention, and a clear memory deficit…" He motions towards the mug. "The way you describe your feelings, the way you voice your thoughts in general… I've never met anyone quite like you."

Oh.

You want to say that it isn't any of his business, but if there is anyone you want to be honest with, it's Loki. Masking and evading questions like the ones Loki is asking are second nature, though, making a lump sit uncomfortably in your throat as you think of how to say it.

You mask so hard, without thinking, that it feels like it almost cuts into your skin. You want to pry it off, but you know it'll hurt just as much coming off as it did going on. However, Loki has this way about him that makes your mask evaporate. It curls into the air like the steam from your coffee and just like that he sees you and it's horrifyingly wonderful how free you feel with him.

But you're not ready to talk about it. Each time you have so far, you're faced with follow-up questions and unwarranted comments. Why are you here, then? Are you qualified? I don't want to have to take care of you.

He'll stop talking to me if he finds out.

The loud thought scares you. It makes your stomach flip sickeningly and makes you dizzy, like you're falling backwards.

"I'm…. I don't want to talk about it."

Loki nods, breathing in sharply through his nose. He stands up straighter and says, "That's alright. It's probably none of my concern, anyway." He gives you one last glance before he walks away.

Thor tears you out of the memory, his warm hand on your back between your shoulder blades as he helps you get up from the grass.

"I can't find Loki anywhere." He shows you the bracelet used to limit Loki's magic, dangling the evidence in front of you. Gingerly, you take it from his hand. It's intact, with the runes still faintly glowing as they usually do. Given the lack of chaos that you think would follow if anyone knew Loki's missing, you assume that he found a way to avoid triggering the security system when he took off the bracelet.

"Does anyone else know?"

"No, just you. I've already scoured his chambers and the areas he usually frequents. There are other places to look, but I wish to avoid suspicion."

You think you understand what he's getting at, but with something so dire, you want to be absolutely certain, "So that's why you want me to help? Like, it'll look less strange if I take a peek in the labs or something?"

"Precisely." Thor smiles at you faintly before his face falls again. "I should have seen the warning signs."

You turn to him, concern plain on your face.

"He's been withdrawn the last few days. At first, I believed it was another bout of homesickness, but…"

He doesn't continue, eyes on the path before him as you walk back to the compound together.

You nudge his arm, "But…?"

"Back on Asgard, he'd sometimes have these… moody spells, after a heartbreak, or an especially volatile argument with our father. He'd disappear for a few days and then act like nothing had happened."

"So you think that's what's happening? But… what could've caused it? I mean, it's not like Odin called him up on the phone and started yelling at him… right?"

Thor chuckles, "No, nothing like that." He starts looking at you, like he's waiting for you to fill in the blank.

Ugh! Not again. Just say it plain!

"Do you think he's just gone, then?"

"No. I think he's somewhere on the property, he just didn't want to be tracked. Loki's likely hiding until the mood passes. He could be anyone, or anything, for that matter."

"Well… shouldn't we leave him be, then?"

Thor shakes his head. "No, that would be unwise. If anyone else finds out he's roaming freely around the compound, it might force others to reconsider his punishment."

"You mean like… make him go back to Asgard?"

His reply is sharp. "Yes."

Your stomach hurts and your eyes fill with tears rapidly. "I don't want him to leave."

"He won't. We'll find him."

Loki sits across from you on the couch, mirroring your position as you lay back against the cushy arm. He's reading a book—the one you gave him—and you have to stop yourself from bombarding him with questions each time you take note of his progress.

You watch him from over the top of the book you're reading, swiftly moving your gaze back to the page when he shifts even the slightest.

Feeling warm and fuzzy, like wrapping yourself up in a blanket fresh from the dryer on a winter's day, you think this is what contentment feels like.

Contentment must be being yourself with another person, and they have no expectations of you or what you should be doing. Just simply existing together. For the longest time, it's been one of your biggest, loftiest dreams—to be content with someone you care for…

…Someone you might even love.

He chuckles under his breath, and you can't help but ask, "What's so funny?"

Loki lets the book fall and rest on his chest, the pages crinkling. "My secret admirer underlined 'Faramir' several times and wrote 'daddy issues.' An amusing term."

You hide your face a bit behind your book, sinking further into the couch. You forgot about that. Not the silly annotations you wrote long ago, but the complicated relationship between Faramir and his father.

Oh, shoot.

From your handful of late night conversations with Loki, you know that he certainly has daddy issues. And maybe some mommy issues. Okay, he has issues. It seems he collects them the way you collect neat rocks.

I hope he's not triggered by reading the book…

You peek at him again. He's reading the book with the same mild interest he's had so far. He twists a lock of hair as he reads, pulling the long strands free from the bun they'd been in. Your eyes follow his fingers as he twists, then your gaze moves towards his chest as he breathes in steadily, and you're now just noticing that he's unbuttoned his shirt quite a ways down…

Look away, look away!

Loki's clearly taken a liking to this 'secret admirer,' greedily consuming the mad scrawlings on the margins of the pages of the monstrously-sized book. He's mentioned the secret admirer a few times in conversation now, his eyes boring unnervingly into yours each and every time. Sometimes, it feels like he's quizzing you, asking you if you'd ever read The Lord of the Rings, or if you had any interest in its themes. He brings up thoughts that you'd written yourself, wanting to know if you agreed or had thoughts of your own.

Each and every response sounds like, "Uhm… I don't know." You aren't even pretending, it's just… how you are. You can learn everything your head can possibly fit about your fixations and interests, but once you're asked to talk about it on the spot…

The brain-mouth connection simply does not exist in those moments. There are just too many words you can say and yet none of them make any sense the second you say them, so you've resorted to uhm's and maybe's.

It looks like he's about to do it again, but what he does ask is far more bewildering. "How are you so comfortable around me?"

Utterly confused, you frown slightly. "What?"

"You don't seem to be avoiding me like you used to. I take it you're not scared anymore?"

"I've never been scared of you…"

"A lie. I can't possibly believe you haven't once been scared of what I could do, or what I have done." He sits up straight, tossing the book on the table next to him.

You flinch a little, but your voice stays strong, "But… It's true. I trust you."

He sighs, frowning, "That worries me, little one."

"Why? Aren't you happy?"

Does he not want me to trust him? Why shouldn't I?

"If you trust a person like me, I fear greatly for your safety."

Offended, you sit up straight to match his posture. "I'm not naive. Or stupid."

He clenches his jaw, "I never said—"

You interrupt him, your mouth moving faster than the words can fly past in your head, "Being near you is as close to feeling safe as I may ever get. I know my instincts aren't the same as everyone else's, and I don't shy away from scary critters or icky bugs or things that are likely to blow up in my face. But I'm not stupid. I know when to back away."

He's quiet for a very long time. The only sound you can hear is the ambient buzz from the building. And your heartbeat, of course, pounding against your ribs like it wants out, out, out!

He stares, your eyes locked with his for far longer than you've held eye contact with anyone else before. His unwavering gaze seems to be searching for something, his eyes flickering between yours.

Finally, he lets out a long sigh, the harsh lines on his face smoothing out once more. He's smiling so sweetly you feel a warm ache in your chest blossom until it reaches the tips of your fingers and toes.

He raises a brow and chuckles, "Sweetheart, did you just compare me to insects?"

You look in every lab that you have access to, scanning each and every item on the workbenches to see if something is out of place in a way that just seems suspicious rather than careless. Nothing is, so you scurry back to Thor. He's starting to look more worried now, running his hand through his hair a few times as he quietly strategizes with you.

You agree to check every shared space again, working your way through each room until you're facing the training room.

You've only seen him in there a handful of times, and each time you had promptly walked out quickly after, because there's absolutely no way you would let him see you working out. But you try looking there, anyway.

The only person inside is Nat, and the distress must be visible on your face, because she frowns and meets you at the door. "What's up? Anything you need help with?" She wipes off the sweat from her forehead with her towel, looking you up and down for any obvious injuries.

I can't tell her.

"I… I uhm… I lost something."

She's close enough now to see how red your eyes are. "What did you lose?"

"A—a thing, it's uhm, hard to explain…"

She sighs, but she doesn't seem annoyed yet. "Where did you last have it?"

"Uhm… I'm not sure."

She closes her eyes and breathes out slowly. "Alright. Maybe I should take you to your room, okay?"

Ugh. You appreciate her, truly, especially since she's helped you out a few times when you're on the verge of exploding from overstimulation. But, she's acting like that's what's happening, and it is most definitely not.

Still, you can feel something building up. It hurts, and it terrifies you. This isn't comparable to anything you'd ever felt before, so flipping through the dictionary of feelings in your head doesn't seem to help in the slightest.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, and you can't stop thinking that he's gone for forever. That he left because of you. 

I've evaded his questions far too many times, or he looked something up in my profile. Maybe he's known that I gave him those gifts this whole time and he's just been playing along. Maybe he thought it was cute for a bit, like my attempts at bonding are childish. Silly.

Maybe that's why he calls me 'little one.'

That's all he sees.

You and Nat pass by Thor on your way to your room. He waves, appearing as if nothing is amiss, though he frowns deeply when he sees you.

You try to suck it up, hoping your face returns back to neutral, but it doesn't seem to work.

Coming to a stop in front of you, he asks, "You're not hurt, are you?"

Nat answers for you, "We're just going to their room. They need help with something."

You hope Thor doesn't push it or ask if he can help. You don't know how long it'll take before you're crying, and you're not sure if you're comfortable enough with Thor yet to bawl in front of him.

It feels strange and familiar when he searches your face. "Feel better soon, then." He continues on his way down the hall, not looking back.

You hope he finds Loki soon.

Opening the door for you, Nat keeps her hand on your shoulder as you walk into your room.

You pass through the archway into the bedroom, your heart dropping so swiftly you might pass out.

There, on your bed, is the one-eyed black stallion. You didn't notice it missing when you and Nat passed by Loki's door on the way to yours…

You must have been staring for a while, because she asks, "Is that it? The thing you lost?"

"Y-yeah…" you nod, hoping she believes it.

She does. "I'm glad that's settled." You hear her walk back to the door. "See you at dinner, then?"

"Yeah," you call out to her, still looking at the stuffed animal resting on your comforter.

The second you hear the door shut, you grab the horse, holding it tight to your chest as your lips tremble and a whine builds up in the back of your throat.

He knows. He knows and he's gone.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Hiii! I have a request.

Something that starts with smut and ends with angst.

My idea is that Hualian and we would be having casual sex, until one had the idea to try to do something rougher. Of course, before doing so, they asked for our consent, and believing that it would be no big deal, we accepted.However, after the first slap we receive, s/o ends up being a little shocked and scared, but not wanting to spoil the fun he kind of accepts.The smut would continue normally, our character would break even when he was in a position that was kind of "suffocated" (it can be the one that the person takes in the ass and in the mouth at the same time, wow it was funny to write this 😂), and because he can't breathe properly and already feeling pain due to previous actions, the character starts to cry and pats the thigh of whoever was in front of him. As soon as his mouth is freed, he speaks the safe word while his body trembles in terror.I would like it to end with anguish or comfort, but I leave that to the writer's discretion!

The idea in general is this, but if you feel that an ending with only dialogue doesn't look so cool, you can include a soft smut!!Thank you for your attention and please take care of yourself ;) Also, sorry if there were any grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language.

Too Much

Hualian x gn!reader

Tw!!! Safe word usage, NSFW, slapping

I just don't feel like my writing has been up to par lately y'all 🖐️😃🔫

____________________________________

You're sandwiched

Literally.

It's one of those nights when all three of you happen to be free of duties, and all of you are home. So what do you guys do when you're all home? Have sex.

It's nothing over the top, just casual, cuddly, sleepy, gentle sex. Hua Cheng is slowly fucking you from behind, but just because he's slow doesn't mean he isn't reaching deep. His dick is big and Hua Cheng knows how to use it, effectively hitting that spot that makes you moan and cry for more.

Xie Lian sits on the edge of the bed near your head. He runs his fingers through your hair and every so often he'll share kisses with you or San Lang. No one knows why and nobody asks, he just has a thing for watching.

You're lying on your back, eyes shut, with soft whimpers at Hua Cheng takes his time with you. Xie Lian runs the back of his nails across your cheek to get your attention. "Baobei, do you think you would be alright if this one were to get a little rough with you?" He hums softly smiling down at you.

Xie Lian always asks, he never dares to put his hands on you without permission. San Lang stares and waits for your answer, because although he won't be hitting you he'd like to fuck you deeper if you'd allow him to. And of course you trust your lovers wholeheartedly, you've gotten rough before so what's new? "Yes, that's fine"

As soon as yes slips past your lips Hua Cheng takes the invitation to quicken the smack of his hips against your ass. He loves to fuck you fast and deep, he really just likes to make you feel good. You yelp when he suddenly flips you onto your stomach and plunges into your hole again. Hua Cheng easily manhandles you around, bruising clutch on your hips and thighs.

Xie Lian catches your attention when he moves in front of you so that your chin rests on his soft, milky thigh. You go to say something to him but you're interrupted when his hand slaps across your cheek. "Don't speak unless you're spoken too, Qin Ai De"

It was relatively normal. It wasn't unusual for Xie Lian to get a little rough with you and make rules for you. It wasn't uncommon for him to say degrading things if you had allowed him to. The slap hurt and you're barely able to process it with how rough Hua Cheng is fucking you. It honestly leaves you a little frightened and on edge. You don't know why, this is a relatively normal bedroom activity but today it doesn't sit right with you.

Maybe you're just overthinking it, so you let them throw you around some more and you let the night keep going. It's not until later into the night that everything goes horribly wrong.

Hua Cheng is still fucking you from behind but Xie Lian has no joined in on the fun and he's fucking your throat. Also not uncommon. It was usual for you to let them do this, keep all your holes filled at all times. You enjoyed it usually but today it feels awful and no matter how much they fuck into you or talk to you, you don't feel good. Your skin pricks with discomfort and you can't stop squirming which had earned you a few more slaps.

You haven't said anything though, you wanted to make your lovers feel good they deserved that much but you can't. You feel like you're going to hurl on Xie Lian's dick if they don't stop. You feel disgusting, and smothered. It feels suffocating.

Tears align your vision and your hand smacks against Xie Lian's thigh. Albeit confused, he immediately pulls back and Hua Cheng pulls out as well. You cough and spit up mumbling the safe word through harsh pants and that's all it takes for them to know tonight's done.

Hua Cheng gets off the bed and you don't really get an opportunity to see where he went because Xie Lian holds your face in his hands. "What's wrong? Did we go too far, baobei?"

You want to answer but you end up just sobbing in his hands. He lets you curl up on his lap while he threads his fingers through your hair, cooing at you and telling you that you had been very good, that you had done well. Hua Cheng comes back with warm towels to clean the three of you up, and he carefully washes whatever swear or stickiness covers your body.

It's silent for a while, not an uncomfortable silence, calm and safe. You eventually speak up. "I'm sorry... I- when you slapped me I got scared and it just set me off for the whole night. I don't know why, I'm sor-"

Hua Cheng kisses the corner of your mouth to shush you. "Sorry for what? You do not need a reason to feel unsafe or uncomfortable. We'll always stop if you are. Do not feel sorry for us" Hua Cheng lies atop of you like a log. His face is scrunched, like he's personally offended at himself for not noticing.

Xie Lian runs his fingers across your cheek, peppering soft kisses across your face. "It's alright, this one apologizes. I won't slap you in the future, Qin Ai De. You know we love you dearly, we would never hurt you purposefully. You must tell us immediately next time Y/n we don't wish to make you feel this way ever again." his brows are furrowed and you can tell he's probably beating himself up over it.

You don't feel suffocated anymore. You nuzzle Xie Lian's leg. Mumbling a soft "Okay... M'love you both"

They both know that there won't be anymore sex tonight so they both cuddle up next to you and dote on you until you fall asleep.

[ranchstoryblog]

64 Dreams: A Look at Harvest Moon 64's Japanese Pre-Release Coverage

Fresh off the releases of the original Bokujou Monogatari in '96 and the GameBoy demake in '97, the series was starting to make a bit of a name for itself by 1998. The popularity of the GameBoy port in particular, partially credited by Yasuhiro Wada to the revived interest of the GameBoy as a platform thanks to Pokémon, led to some amount of anticipation for the follow-up.

At that time, a Japanese gaming magazine called The 64Dream, which was later renamed Nintendo Dream, was aimed exclusively at Nintendo 64 owners to give them the latest in information on upcoming and currently available games. Several issues over the course of a year would feature updates and information on Bokujou Monogatari 2. It would be a lot of work to translate everything, though we still might go over the really interesting bits some day, but, for now, we'll go over a brief summary of each issue's coverage up until release.

October, 1998

To start off the coverage of Bokumono 2, Yasuhiro Wada, Setsuko Miyakoshi, and Tomomi Yamatate are participating in a Q&A with the magazine's staff and introducing elements that are new from the SNES game like the camera, backpack, automatically leveling up tools, sheep, etc. Things to do during Winter are also referenced, like mining and the event to help out with Green Ranch, as well as it being a highly requested feature to continue playing after the ending. It also references the Goddess Fountain being the one from the previous game, which I hadn't really considered but if you think about the general layout of both maps it makes sense. The heart level system is also revealed to have a name the development staff used, the "Bakubaku system," which was implemented because sneaking a peek at their diaries wasn't the best thing to do. Since it's referencing a heartbeat, I guess if they localized that name it'd be something like "ba-dump system"?

There's a few tidbits that are completely different from the final game, like being able to carry bugs in your backpack, as well as an affection system for wild animals. Neither are in the release version, with wild animals being able to just be picked up freely without befriending them, and neither bugs or animals being willing to be stuffed into your bag. The calendar of festivals and other notable events is also a bit different, with no races or swimming events present at all, along with the Spirit Festival being on the 29th instead of the 27th.

There's also few interesting details among the artwork, like Harris being blonde and the baby's outfit being brown instead of blue. The artwork of the girls is also distinct here, with most of them not being featured in any other promotional material or guidebooks. Ran and Marie's artwork appeared in the 15th anniversary art book, but Karen, Popuri, and Elly were oddly absent. Rare stuff.

November, 1998

This month, the magazine's editors are getting to play for the first time. Most of the article is just them experiencing stuff that's new after the SNES game firsthand. Things like rotating the camera, having a bag, carrying multiple tools, tools leveling up with use, things like that. Oddly, Karen doesn't seem to appear in the demo, though the vineyard and other characters do. The article ends with some fan art of Karen and Pete at the vineyard. There's also some fan art of all the girls in the fan art section.

There isn't a lot here that's different from the final game this month, but there is a screenshot of the library with a completely different layout from the final game.

December, 1998

Wow, right off the bat there's lots of little art differences here. Mayor Thomas is blonde, Marie has blue hair like her grandma, and so does Kent! Though with that light of a shade, maybe Kent's is supposed to look shaved. The artwork for the town's map is also a little off, featuring a layout that's not present in the final game, and a few details that would go missing as well, like a tree outside the bakery. Of course, several new elements would be in the final game that are also missing from this artwork, like shop signs. I also appreciate all the little figures of characters wandering around the map.

The text doesn't look like anything new or distinct, but it does mention that there's now a racetrack. Horse races weren't mentioned at all in previous months, so maybe this was a late addition they finally felt safe confirming. It also mentions Duke being Jeff's uncle, which is something I tend to forget is mentioned in-game, as well as Doga's appearance being compared to Yoda, and... I can see it.

There's also a featured fan art this month at the end of the article featuring Ran and Pete sitting together. In the magazine's fan-art dedicated page, there's artwork of Popuri and Elly, too! Not to mention plenty of non-Bokumono fan art featuring characters from Wonder Project J2, Pokémon, and Ocarina of Time.

January, 1999

The article this month opens with lamenting that the game didn't release in December and will be delayed until February. Since we're pretty close to release now, it doesn't look like there's too many differences from the final game at this point. Of note, however, is that the animals all seem 500-1000 G cheaper. I guess they were still adjusting game balance. The crops listing doesn't include strawberries either, and a note that the seed prices might be different in the released game, but those are all correct.

The fan art this month is Pete with a bunch of farm animals, including a pig! I guess they'll have to wait until GBC3 and Magical Melody for that though. There's also a small figure on the left side, maybe holding a paintbrush? An artist's self-portrait, maybe?

February, 1999

Finally, it's release month! The game has been consistently voted one of the most anticipated titles by readers, and Yasuhiro Wada is here to answer their questions.

The first interesting question is about the Nintendo 64 Transfer Pak, which Wada says wasn't possible to implement transferring cows and such due to technical reasons and the N64 game's development coming later. However, if the game was popular enough to release a Bokujou Monogatari 3 on the N64, he'd like to implement GameBoy gimmicks. Next, he's asked about the baby, and mentions that it will have different reactions based on where you take it, and that it will gradually change with level of affection. When asked about improving crop varieties, Wada replies that it's a secret. Maybe referencing the unlocking of Strawberries after getting a greenhouse? The page ends with a variety of fan art.

On the next page, a fan asks if there are multiple endings. Wada responds that there's really only one, but there's a ranking system in place. He also mentions that you can transfer your save to a Controller Pak and take it to a friend's house and compare your rankings with them, which is something North American fans missed out on when the rankings page feature was removed, along with several other things. Next is a question about catching and keeping bugs, which contrary to the mention in the October '98 issue, he says that leaving them in nature is for the best. The last question on the page asks about the girls from the original game appearing, which Wada says a few do in some way, and you should try to find out. Also that the same Harvest Sprites return. There's also artwork of all the 64 girls in cute winter outfits!

The last page is just basic gameplay questions, like how much money you start with and how to sheer sheep, with Wada going on to mention that taking care of animals is important and that there's a funeral scene for them now. The page closes again with more fan art.

More interestingly, the little boxed area on pages 22 and 23 features "requests" and general comments from fans. For page 22, the first of which is for co-op, which Wada says was an idea he also had, but to please bear with it as it wasn't possible, and there is a lot of content for one player in the game. Next, he's asked for the animals to make noises and have footstep sounds, which he says they do make animal sounds (mooing, clucking, etc) now, but don't have footstep sounds. Then he's asked about implementing a motorcycle or truck! Wada emphatically responds that nature is best.

Page 23's requests start with being able to freely design the house, which Wada also wants to do, but there are at least more extensions this time. Next, a player wants the hot springs to return, which Wada says might appear in this game as the player progresses. Another player comments that they hate natural disasters like typhoons, but Wada says they will be returning in this game, albeit less frequently. Someone asks to be able to make cheese, yogurt, and ice cream, which Wada says sounds great. Someone asks about the Hoe transforming into a tractor after it reaches level 4, which Wada brushes off as "too much," someone asking to put an N64 in the house, which Wada says sounds nice, but there's too many things in there already, and lastly someone comparing Wada's appearance to Yabe-san from the comedy duo "Ninety-Nine," which Wada disagrees and laughs at.

And that's it! Shortly after this magazine hit shelves, the game would finally release. There were several months of coverage afterward, which we'll probably go over, but that'll be for another time. A big thank you to ozidual of Gaming Alexandria for allowing us to use their scans. You can check out their full magazine scans on Archive.org.

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do a romantic concept for yandere Boba Fett?

Sure! I'll try my best, hope it came out well. This is a general view.

Yandere! Boba Fett Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Threats, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Isolation, Forced relationship.

Boba Fett is infamously known as one of the best bounty hunters out there.

For the most part he's emotionless due to his past.

He's a hired gun killing for money, it's the life he's used to.

He's been a bounty hunter since the death of his father.

In fact, not showing much emotion makes the job easier.

It's canon that Boba Fett once had a family.

Early on in his career he tried to live a normal life.

He had a child with a woman but ultimately felt this wasn't where he belonged.

So... what if he found someone new while working as a bounty hunter?

Boba Fett probably still isn't sure how to deal with romantic feelings.

Even with his old family he was cold at times.

He's not used to love or any emotions like that.

Not since his father died, at least.

To him, life was about killing for money.

So much so that everyone knew of him.

If you think about it, having a man like him come after you is terrifying.

After all, he tracks down targets to kill all the time.

When it comes to you... He's tracking for other reasons.

There's a few ideas that come to mind when it comes to Boba's darling.

Maybe you were a target, maybe you helped him with an injury after a mission, or maybe you were his previous lover?

All of those would be reasons Boba would pursue you.

If you were a target, his obsession takes place over time.

He takes time to track you and maybe you're even capable enough to defend against and evade him

By that point, he gets infatuated because you always manage to be elusive.

This is no longer a contract, it's the thrill of the hunt.

One way or another he plans to get his prize, this time it isn't credits.

Then there's the case of you helping him with an injury.

Bounty hunting is a dangerous job, Boba is quite used to getting injuries.

He isn't used to anyone offering to help, however.

He tries to push you away at first, telling you he doesn't need help.

Yet his injuries seem to be worse than he thought.

This results in him reluctantly allowing you to treat him.

He doesn't stay long once stable and healed.

You aren't surprised that he left without saying much.

He didn't speak much except for telling you off or saying a reluctant 'thanks'.

You thought that's the last you'd see of the bounty hunter.

He's alive to hunt another target, that's that.

Unfortunately, his next target seems to be you due to his new obsession.

The last idea is based on his previous family.

Boba had left his last lover and child to continue his work path.

In this scenario, you'd take the place of this family and be devastated that Boba left.

You thought you were a good lover... You were affectionate even when he was cold!

Sadly, that doesn't stop the bounty hunter from leaving.

You actually continue your life eventually after Boba leaves.

However, you have no clue that you've been plaguing Boba's mind.

You don't even think he's spying on you between jobs, a quiet yearning deep in his chest.

That is, until decades pass...

Leading you to meeting your old love again... yet you've moved on and he hasn't.

Despite all these scenarios, I imagine Boba acts similarly in all of them.

Boba, for the most part, is a yandere who spends most of his time stalking.

Tracking is one of his most honed skills.

It allows him to learn more about you and track you down if you manage to evade his grasp.

This also means when he has you... you aren't running.

Boba doesn't take much joy in murder... It's a job for him.

Yet that means he has no issues killing to get what he wants.

He kills those who have wronged him... and those who have gotten in his way.

Which means, if anyone is helping you escape him or taking away your attention...

He'll get rid of them.

He's known to be ruthless and has all sorts of ways to get rid of a target.

Disintegration is his most common one, yet if he feels it's deserved...

He'll spill blood too.

Boba isn't someone you want to mess with.

Having him obsessed with you is scary because there's no real way to get rid of him.

He's evaded death before and the only thing he can't evade is his failing health once he's older.

But until then, you're stuck.

Boba may spend most of his time tracking you and observing you...

Yet he'll strike when you don't expect it.

He isn't even very reactive when he meets you.

There's times he's happy and times he's mad...

But most of the time he's quiet, even as he stalks closer.

Boba isn't one to spend time getting to know you.

Or, more accurately, you getting to know him.

He already knows more about you than you do yourself.

I wouldn't be surprised if he just kidnapped his obsession once he felt he was ready for that.

He'd keep you tied on his ship, whichever one he has at the time.

He doesn't respond to your cursing or screaming.

In fact he may just find a way to gag you.

"Before you ask, this isn't for a job... This is for myself... For us, if you will."

Many know Boba for tracking targets in return for credits.

Although you'd never expect him to kidnap you because he's fallen for you.

He plans to take you somewhere far from your home.

He'll have somewhere you two can live together and maybe he can try again with this whole love thing.

He doesn't seem to care if this is wrong, kidnapping someone to be his new love.

Yet he's been messed up since he was a young boy.

Sometimes you have to do unsavory things to get what you want.

What he wants happens to be you.

Affection is not common when it comes to Boba.

He's usually cold, occasionally asking you if you need anything around his ship or your shared him.

Although, sometimes I imagine he removes his helmet for you... and holds you close as some form of affection.

He isn't used to it but he wants you to know he loves you.

You can hate him, you should...

It doesn't stop him from kissing you and holding you close, just happy he was patient enough to prepare everything for you.

You're kept rather isolated with no one else to talk to.

Mostly because Boba tends to... kill them if they get too close to your home.

You know as you can hear his blasters go off.

However, if you somehow managed to escape with help... or even alone...

Boba's going to come find you.

If he found you before, he'll find you again.

It's only a matter of time before the master tracker finds you.

He isn't afraid to shed blood or take you back with force.

Eventually he'll drag you back to his ship... drag you back home...

Then you won't have a chance to try again.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 5

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 4.0K

Author's Note:

This is the first part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

That night, you barely slept. Each time you moved, it felt like a searing poker stabbed through your midsection, and even the smallest movements caused pain somewhere in your body. Instead, you slept in short bursts, and during the wakeful moments, you stared at the ceiling, making out the carvings in the beams above you, stars, mountains, maps, animals. Seemingly all scratched delicately into the ceiling beams above you.

The night’s shadows slowly gave way to the morning sunlight as it drifted across the floor, over the furs on your bed, and crested your face. From outside the window, you heard the chatter of men’s voices and laughter, though you couldn’t make out any distinct conversations. As the morning waned, you heard the more frequent sound of metal on metal—sword fighting, you assumed—glancing at the swords propped onto the fireplace mantel. Grunts, groans, and occasional raucous laughter drifted through the window, along with the smell of cooked food, which made your stomach growl angrily. You allowed yourself to shut your eyes for a while, the warmth of the sun warming your cheeks. Then you heard a light rap on the door. 

You opened your eyes, turning to the door to hear a small voice call out, “Can I come in?” When you didn’t respond, it called out again, “I have your breakfast.” 

Without waiting for a response, the door opened slightly, and a woman poked her head through the door. At first, you noticed her hair, pulled into a bun on the back of her head, with a piece of orange scrap fabric tied around her hairline to pull it back from her face. Then you realized what her face looked like. She had the same tanned, olive skin tone as Azriel, but her face was more scar than skin. Her right eye, which had a turquoise hue, was surrounded by pink scar tissue, looking like a mixture of a burn and a slash, extending almost completely down the right side of her face and branching out to her nose and lips. The left side of her face, while also scarred, was not nearly as jarring as the right. She flashed you a small smile before entering the room. She pushed the door closed behind her with her foot as you took in the rest of her form. 

Like Azriel, she had large bat wings, but they had cuts and scars like her face, and in a few areas, it looked as though there were holes in the membrane between the bones. She wore a dark brown tunic with a tie at the waist that covered most of her up to her neck. Her arms were wrapped in cotton bandages with brown and red stains from wear. You couldn’t tell if she was wounded or if she wore the bandages for warmth, as the sleeves of her tunic were ratty and tattered. She wore a pair of oversized lighter brown pants, tucked into short boots with holes, patched with pieces of fabric. All in all, she looked like she had walked through a battlefield before coming in. When you saw the container of berries sitting atop what looked like a bowl of steaming oatmeal, you disregarded her appearance, your mouth salivating at the sight of the delicious red and blue juices already seeping in. 

The female didn’t look at you, only seeming to stare down at the bowls in her hand as she approached. Deep within her eyes was something long lost, and though you couldn’t place what it was, you knew that your eyes also held the same longing. When she reached your bedside, the distinct smell of an unbathed body hit you, and the dirt caked under her fingernails made you question the care you’d received. Your trust in Azriel waned slightly.

She ran her thumb over the lip of the bowl, sucking her own pale, chapped, and peeling lip into her teeth before speaking, barely over a whisper. “Azriel asked me to bring this to you.” 

She offered the bowl towards you, and through a wince, you raised your hands to take it. “Thank you,” you rasped.

The female turned her mouth up slightly, still looking towards the floor as she rested the bowl on the side of the bed. She brought her hands back to clasp in front of her, idly picking at a scab on the back of her hand that looked reddened and angry. She opened her mouth to speak and then paused, her eyes scanning the floor. “I’m supposed to look at your ribs,” she said.

Silence fell heavily in the room. “Alright,” you finally said.

More silence. “I can leave, let you have breakfast, and then come back.” She looked at you, still not meeting your eyes. Without saying anything, she turned to walk out, but you called out, telling her to stop.

“Would you—” you started. “Would you mind staying?”

The female turned to look over her shoulder, still casting her gaze downward. “Yes,” she whispered. She returned to the bedside, standing over you, hands fidgeting as she continued scratching at her already open wounds. You pulled the breakfast onto your stomach, shifting slightly, which caused a sharp pain to shoot through you. Your wincing made the female shy away slightly, as though your pain was her own. You brought one of the fresh berries to your mouth, the sweet juices already staining your fingers pink. As you let it settle on your tongue, the sourness made the back of your mouth tighten and salivate. Crushing the berry against the roof of your mouth, an explosion of sweetness coated your taste buds, and you momentarily forgot your predicament. You let your stained hand drop to the bed in berry-ridden ecstasy before turning to the female next to you. “Would you like one?” you offered, holding the bowl of berries out to her.

The female looked at the offer, her tongue slightly parting her lips as she debated. She quickly shook her head no, returning her gaze to the floor.

“Are you sure?” you asked again. “There’s no way I can eat all of these.” The female still didn’t respond. “And I would hate for them to go to waste,” you continued.

She raised her head slightly, scanning your face for any underlying meaning or trickery. When she found none, she tentatively reached out and plucked the smallest berry from your bowl, quickly bringing it to her mouth. You smiled. “Have another,” you offered, throwing another berry into your own mouth.

“That’s okay,” the female said, gesturing a thankful refusal.

You chewed the berry. “Then at least sit,” you offered, using your head to gesture to the wooden stool near the wall.

Without responding, the female went and sat on the stool, without moving it towards you. “You can pull it closer,” you offered.

Eyes widening at the request, she stared ahead before gulping, standing quickly, grabbing the chair, and bringing it over to sit next to you, her eyes firmly planted on the mattress. You continued to eat, looking her over. She seemed young, around your age, maybe a few years younger, and skinny. Her cheekbones were prominent even with the scar, and her eyes were shadowed and slightly sunken. Her hands, covered in tiny nicks and scabs, were merely bone with skin clinging to them. You wondered if the rest of her body was as emaciated. You offered the bowl to her again, and she refused.

Resigning yourself to her refusal, you finally said, “I’m Y/N.”

The female paused slightly, then peered at you under her brows, head bowed. “Anthea,” she returned, barely over a whisper.

“It’s nice to meet you, Anthea.” The female merely nodded as you handed her the bowl of berries and oatmeal. “Would you mind putting this on the table?”

Anthea took the bowl and placed it on the table before returning her clasped hands to her lap. You waited, thinking she might say something, but after about a minute of silence, you realized you two might spend the entire day just staring at each other.

“How can I best lay for you to look at me?” you asked. For the first time, Anthea looked up, assessing your body.

“What hurts most?” she asked.

You laughed slightly. “What doesn’t?”

Anthea’s lips lightly raised at the corners, not quite a smile but hinting at one. “Azriel told me your left side is shattered. If you don’t mind, I think turning you on your right would be best.”

You nodded, gulping down the thought that even moving your arms caused pain, and rolling on your side might just kill you. Anthea rose from her stool, standing at the end of the bed while you winced and pushed yourself up slightly. “I can help if you’d like,” she offered.

“I think I’ll need it,” you responded.

Anthea carefully pulled back the blankets, exposing your bandaged torso to the cool air. She slid one hand gingerly under your left thigh, the other resting between your shoulder blades. “Breathe in deeply,” she instructed. As you did, she pressed lightly, pushing you upwards, sending pain shooting down your sides. “Now breathe out.” As you did, she rolled you onto your right side, legs turning first followed by your torso. You let out a wail, but Anthea didn’t seem to mind as she steadied you.

“Alright,” she cooed. You still breathed through the intense pain as she quickly ran around the bed, pulling your right arm out from under you and pressing a pillow to your chest. “I know it hurts, but it’s over now.”

You let out a few ragged breaths as she pushed your hair from your face, quickly pulling a ribbon from her pocket and tying it back with steady, calm hands.

She looked down the length of your body, examining what she could without moving you before saying, “I have to take the bandages down.” You nodded.

Without asking, Anthea pulled the sheet up from your side to cover the front half of your chest. She placed your left arm over it so it wouldn’t move, prioritizing modesty, which you appreciated. She set to work unwrapping the bandages from your midsection. While painful, she did it carefully, with tact and precision. If you winced, she stopped immediately and let you catch your breath. When she finally undid all the bandages, she readjusted the blanket, pulling a fur up your legs to cover your now exposed hips. Like a surgeon, she separated your wounds from the rest of your body.

“It looks better than it did,” she finally said.

You glanced down to see your entire ribcage and side an angry purple and red. Splotches of reddened skin pooled near the edges of the deep purple, and you could almost make out the lines of your ribs where the purple verged on black. “How bad was it before?” you asked.

Anthea looked at your face. “You could see the bones poking up at your skin.”

The image made you shudder as you turned your gaze forward.

“I’m going to press lightly on some of them to make sure they’re healing correctly,” Anthea warned. You nodded. She pressed her cold fingers onto your skin, and you jumped away at first, but she ran her fingers down the length of each bone. While the pressure caused discomfort, it wasn’t painful. “It seems like everything is fused again,” she noted, “and to the correct bone. It’s just bruised and swollen.”

Anthea began rewrapping your torso, taking care not to shake you. Neither of you spoke until she finished and helped you turn back onto your back. You gave her a soft smile. “Thank you,” you offered.

Her mouth turned up slightly, not quite a smile. “You’re welcome.” She went to the other side of the bed, grabbed the bowl, and made her way to leave.

“Anthea, wait.”

The female stopped and turned. “Yes?” she asked.

You paused, considering your request. “Can you stay? Just for a little.”

Anthea looked at the window, where the clashing of swords still took place, hesitating before looking back at your pleading eyes and nodding. She placed the bowl back on the table and sat on the stool. “Thank you,” you said.

Anthea just nodded.

“I just… I haven’t been around a female in a while, and it’s nice.”

Anthea looked at your face and then down at her hands, picking at the scabs. “I understand,” she finally said.

A silence hung between the two of you.

You swallowed, then asked, “Where are we?”

“Frostvale,” she responded.

“The river?”

“The camp.”

You hadn’t heard of any camps named after the river before, though you hadn’t been down here in a long time. “What sort of camp?”

“A training camp.”

“Training for who?” you asked.

Anthea looked up, seemingly confused. “Soldiers.”

You frowned. “Illyrian soldiers?”

Anthea nodded. “Yes, the soldiers of the Night Court.”

The name was familiar. You remembered hearing about the infamous Illyrian soldiers when you were a child in Velaris. But after your mother moved you to the woods to escape your father, your education had been limited to practical knowledge rather than history.

Anthea watched you, realizing you were trying to piece things together. “The Illyrians set up this camp about half a century ago to be closer to the coast.”

“Are there many camps?” you asked.

“Yes, though there are more since the Battle of Hybern.”

You decided not to ask about the battle, fearing it might worsen your headache. “Are all of you soldiers?”

Anthea shook her head. “No. Females aren’t soldiers here.”

“So what do you do?”

Anthea pulled her lip between her teeth, causing it to bleed slightly. “Laundry, cooking, cleaning,” she paused, “caring for the soldiers.”

“Are you a nurse?” you asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’m not a healer. We don’t have healers here.”

You considered her response, unsure what to ask next. “Do you all have wings?”

“Illyrians are born with them, yes.”

You wanted to ask about her tattered wings but decided it was too personal. “Who is Azriel?”

Anthea looked behind her, as if expecting him to appear. You couldn’t tell if it was fear or general distrust. “He is an Illyrian.”

“Is he a soldier?” you asked.

“Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

Anthea hesitated. “He is trained as a soldier, but he isn’t here often. He just comes sometimes.”

“Does he work for another camp?”

“I don’t know.”

You gulped down some fear. “Is he safe?”

Anthea didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”

A weight settled on you as Anthea quickly stood, grabbing the bowl. “I have chores.” She turned to leave but paused at the door. “Thank you for the berries,” she said, then quickly shut the door behind her.

When she was finally gone, and you could no longer hear her footsteps, you relaxed slightly. With your ribs no longer broken, only swollen and bruised, you figured you’d be well enough to move in a few days. Given what you had seen of Anthea, who looked as though no one had ever cared for her, you had no intention of sticking around to find out whether Azriel was as safe as he seemed.

A few hours passed, and you found yourself dozing off and on, accompanied by the clanging of metal outside and the light crackling of the fire at the end of the bed. You ran your fingers along the handle of the knife you kept next to you, contemplating your next move.

When mid-afternoon came, you roused yourself from sleep to a gentle tapping at the door, followed by it opening. In the doorway stood Azriel, holding a tray, a light smile playing on his face. His wings were pulled tightly behind him. Instead of his usual attire, Azriel now wore what looked to be armored leather with intricate detailing of swirls, almost vine-like. His chest plate bore the same detailing, splattered with mud, suggesting he had been out with the others earlier. He wore black leather pants, also mud-covered, and appeared to have lost or taken off his weapon belt. Blue stones were embedded in his armor, perhaps signifying rank.

“Afternoon,” he said. “Thought I’d bring you some lunch, see how you’re faring.” He crossed the room and placed the tray on the side table.

You eyed the tray, the smell of roasted meat and vegetables making your mouth water. Azriel pulled the stool up to the side of the bed. “Anthea told me you’re healing up.”

You nodded slightly, your hand closing around the base of the knife hidden beneath the blankets.

“Good,” Azriel noted. A silence fell between you, as if he expected a verbal response. When you didn’t reply, he turned to the tray. “Here,” he said, picking it up and handing it to you, placing it on your legs. You had managed to hoist yourself up to lean against the headboard, clearly beginning to find your footing after your bones had healed.

On the tray was a piece of cooked meat with a dark berry sauce, alongside earthy vegetables and a grain mixture with herbs. Azriel rubbed his hands together before pointing at the various items. “This is grilled venison with a berry sauce. Anthea said you enjoyed the raspberries, so I added some of that. These are turnips, carrots, and sweet potato, all on top of a barley pilaf.” He pulled his hands back to his lap, rubbing his thighs slightly. “Please, eat.”

You hesitantly picked up the fork and took a bite. While the flavors were subtle and crude, the warmth of the meat and spices made the meal passable. “I’m sorry,” Azriel said, “I did the best I could with what the cooks had prepared for today.”

“You made this?” you asked, chewing.

“Well, I made the sauce and seasoned the meat a bit more. I can’t take full credit for the cooking.”

You smiled a bit, taking another bite. “Thank you.”

Azriel smiled back, pleased to see you eating. “No, it’s nothing.”

He didn’t leave, instead remaining perched on the stool. You didn’t say anything, continuing to eat.

“So, I think you should be healing up soon,” he finally said.

You nodded in agreement, taking a few sips of water.

“Has anything come back? Memories, I mean.”

You shook your head no. You had decided that even if they had, unless it had anything directly to do with him, you would keep those to yourself. While bringing you in, nursing you, and preparing special meals was kind, you knew too much of the world and the ways of males to easily trust their kindness.

Azriel nodded slightly. “I guess we’ll just keep an eye on you.”

You glanced at him from the side of your eyes.

“Anthea likes you,” he said.

“She’s sweet,” you replied.

Azriel smiled lightly. “Yeah.”

You considered speaking, wondering if this idle conversation was worth it, knowing you’d be gone in a few days. “Anthea said she’s a laundress.”

Azriel nodded. “Yeah, she does laundry and helps out around the camp.”

“A battle camp,” you said, wiping a bit of the sauce from the side of the plate and sucking it off your thumb.

Azriel watched intently. “A training camp.”

“Training for what?”

“Battle, I guess.”

You handed him the tray, and he placed it back on the table. “Are there battles to be fought?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Then why do you need a training camp?”

“In case there is a battle.”

You stopped asking questions, nodding slightly.

“Did you hit your head that hard?” Azriel asked.

“I haven’t been particularly involved in the affairs of the courts these past few years.”

Azriel frowned, confused. “What does that mean?”

“I’m not from around here.”

“Where are you from?”

“Not here.”

“I gathered that.” Azriel leaned back, dragging his hand through his black hair. “I mean, more specifically, where did you come from?”

You sucked your teeth slightly to pull a spare raspberry seed from between them. “The mountains.”

“The Illyrian mountains?”

“Yes.”

“You’re from the Illyrian mountains and don’t know about the training camps?” He sounded more like he was stating a fact than asking a question.

“Not all of us are so involved in your world.”

Azriel paused, leaning forward on his thighs. “I’m sorry. I just assumed if you were from the mountains, you would know about them.”

“Guess I never came across you or your kind.”

Azriel stared into your eyes, searching for answers. “I’m curious about you,” he finally said.

You said nothing in response.

“You’re a bit of an enigma.”

You still said nothing.

Azriel continued to stare, your cheeks reddening with the awkwardness. Finally, you spoke. “I guess I could say the same about you.”

“Ask me any questions you want,” he said.

You leered at him, crossing your arms and wincing slightly. “Who are you?”

“Azriel.”

“Yes, but who is Azriel?”

“I am an Illyrian.”

“Because of your wings.”

“Yes, wings are a trait of my people.”

“You’re a soldier?”

“I am trained to be a soldier, yes.”

“But you aren’t a soldier.”

“I hold no authority over the soldiers.”

“So you just like to come spend time here?”

“No, I was sent here.”

“By who?”

“Rhysand.”

You paused, recognizing the name. Azriel continued, “Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.”

Oh. That’s why you recognized it. You suddenly felt much more uncomfortable, realizing you were in the presence of someone with significant power.

“You are his...?”

“Spymaster.”

You deduced the implications. “And you come here often to spy?”

“I come here to report back on troop progress.”

“But you aren’t a soldier.”

“No, I am just trained as one.” He paused. “Do I get to ask you questions?” he asked.

“I can’t promise I’ll answer them all,” you replied after a moment.

“Of course.” He thought for a second. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N.”

“We’ve established that. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I’m a fae female from the mountains.”

Azriel scanned your face, searching for something. “Why were you leaving?”

You stared back at him, a moment passed. “That’s not your business.”

Azriel looked into you, almost too deep into you, and suddenly you felt like you were drowning a bit. “Fair,” he responded.

You asked, “Who is Anthea?”

Azriel paused. “We’ve been over her.”

“No,” you started, “You know what I mean.”

Azriel leaned back again, looking skywards as though searching for the words. “Anthea is an Illyrian female,” he paused, “who is from a very traditional family.”

“Define traditional,” you pried.

Azriel paused again. “Illyrian women are not treated as equals to the males.”

You just stared into him.

“And Anthea is unfortunately serving the role of a very traditional female in an Illyrian society.”

You gulped down the anger and bile rising in your throat. “Unfortunately?”

Azriel peered into you again. “Yes,” he said. “Her life is not easy. Nor is it fair.”

You looked towards the fireplace.

“The night in the tavern,” Azriel started. You felt your heart beat pause. “You were screaming in your sleep.” You did not look at him. “You were saying the name Caelum.”

Your heart picked up speed, and before Azriel could continue, you pulled the knife from under the blanket, pointing it at him. “Get out.” You warned, your eyes hardened, blackening as you felt the bile rising higher in your throat.

Azriel threw his hands up. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you intend,” you shot back. “Get. Out.”

Azriel nodded, standing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

Before he could finish, you pointed the knife towards the door. “Get out.”

Azriel’s face faltered for a moment, a look of disappointment and shame flashed across it before he turned and left the room. You didn’t drop the knife until your heart stopped feeling as though it would pound from your chest. Even then, you gripped it too close to the blade in your frenzy, and blood slowly ran down your wrist, dripping onto the fur beneath it. You would not utter that name. You would not speak it into existence.

As always, I want to take the time to thank the wonderful readers who have asked to tagged. You have made this such a fun series to write and I am so excited to continue on with it.

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt

[deerdogs]

hi <- girl who really wants to yap about some of her smpl/dsmp/esmp world building and continuity. a lot of yapping under cut. Nobody gaf but whatever

i’m that one friend that’s too c!sam so im shoving him here. but for those who don’t know tldr. c!sam has actually been alive for like centuries he just found a way to clone his body to be immortal (memory is still mortal so doesn’t remember obviously). he was friends with c!phil who stopped being friends w him over his morally dubious immortality scheme. but anyways. original sam (sam prime) was alive during like medieval ish times as seen by that scene w c!phil. annnndd what’s a morally grey inventor without a little robot buddy to help him. hence he made swagger ! little analog steampunk robot fella. skip ahead a bit when sam prime put himself in the tube status chamber thing.. swagger was left alone. i like to think that kristen felt bad that phil just abandoned this kid over the immortality thing instead of trying to keep helping him see the right way so she kept watch over sam. saw the Robot fella abandoned and felt bad soooo she gave him a soul and consciousness….. Bc what the hell, sure

while he can function/move on his own bc of the soul, he still keeps his more mechanical parts in tact and working bc they help him move better and more precise given he only recently gained consciousness and has never had to Move a body before. fun fact his head can be screwed off and moved around… especially if he needs to look under something to work on or fix it. he can just Pop that thing right off and shove it under to get a better look. same w moving it up given he’s not the tallest. he usually has the create wrench on his ‘tail’/extra appendage but can switch it out for a lot of things (sword pick etc). the bandages are both so he doesn’t get asked as many questions about his robot bits and also to help protect them rain/water given atp he hasn’t had many upgrades to help with that (changes that more towards sdmp)

my esmp timeline and worldbuilding stuff is kind of a lot so it would need a bigger yap Buuuut . in my mind it takes place in the middle of dsmp it’s just . a separate world/realm created by the void to foster conflict and death to feed itself. a lot of different ppl from allll around invited/sucked into it. functions kind of similar to the watchers from hermits stuff. also to see if certain people make the same mistakes they’ve made… hence revived schlatt just for this world. he goes back to limbo after but yknow. bc he’s forcefully revived by the void and didn’t have a heart it. Made one For him which has Some effect on his capacity for being a normal nice individual. Not that he was much of one already but. Yknow.

also important bit abt that. void messed w ppls memories when it brought them there bc it’s supposed to be. a fresh new start thing (which is why they have to like Discover technology with create) without any previous biases besides slight recognition of people and fuzzy and general memories. (why ted doesn’t remember smpl void stuff). swagger is the only one who has memory bc he’s. Yknow. Not a human or mortal in any sense. he obviously thinks it’s a bit weird that certain ppl are acting different and can’t remember him as well as he can them but.. he kinda just shrugs it off 😭

ted is supposed to be like this avatar for the void that helps start conflict and instigate death (like when ted basically convinced minx and weston to go kill swagger for no reason) soooo Yeah he’s a Normal well adjusted fella.

there’s more but my fingers are cramping bc i just played guitar for like 2 hours so. The yapperrrrrrr

[semisolidmind]

In the twice as bad au, what if they never met reader before and only met her in modern days? Maybe mk was talking about his new friends and she came up, they got curious, followed mk without him knowing and then saw her for the very first time, what then?

(....first thing that came to mind—they haven't learned.

in the scenario where they lose their previous reader, they've had hundreds of years to think about what they could've done differently to keep reader with them. perhaps they've also begun to realize that kidnapping and holding her hostage doesn't look favorably on them.

but—if they never had reader in the past, they don't know to be better for the reader in the present.)

perhaps, despite trusting his son to take care of himself, wukong doesn't trust anyone else to not cause him trouble. so, he sends macaque to follow xiaotian to the city.

the six-eared demon follows the boy, witnessing his battle with a young dragon (whom surprisingly quickly befriends xiaotian), and the subsequent trip they take to the noodle shop. he's given the same introduction to the gang as xiaotian is (from the shadows, of course). they all welcome the boy, despite their wariness of his appearance.

there doesn't seem to be any reason to intervene...not yet, anyways. these people don't have anywhere near the same power as the monkey bro's protégé, and what power they do have is untapped and relatively untrained. it's definitely an eclectic cast; two demons, a cat, a dragon, one magically-inclined monk wannabe, and a human woman. she's the only one without any sort of power, macaque notes with curiosity.

it's not love at first sight, but... he does think she's easy on the eyes. it's only as macaque continues to keep an eye on xiaotian and his new friends that he learns more about her. she's pretty nice and relatively easygoing, cares for her friends, and is surprisingly level-headed in stressful situations.

and she's ridiculously fun to tease.

macaque will occasionally antagonize the group in the name of "helping the kid train" (which has the added dramatic benefit of potentially sowing some discord amongst his friends; mac gets the feeling xiaotian isn't being honest with them about his family). while the others put up a good fight, reader seems to try to avoid conflict on the grounds of being a normal, non-magic human. this inability to fight (though that frying pan of hers gives her the confidence to try) makes her the perfect damsel in distress.

the dark-furred demon makes a habit of kidnapping reader after these fights, forcing her friends to scramble to find her. this happens often enough that it gets to where macaque and reader will have genuine conversations during the time that he's hiding her from the gang. they become tentative friends during this time and reader comes to realize that he's likely not going to actually hurt her... probably. and he's pretty funny and easy to talk to, all things considered. reader doesn't hate him. (though she probably should? maybe?)

macaque quickly figures out where her apartment is, and persistently shows up unannounced to pester her. he says that when he's "not on villain duty," he can hang out with her if he wants; not like she can stop him, right? it starts out as the six-eared demon just messing with reader; eating her food, using her television, hogging her couch, and generally being a nuisance. teasing and goading her every chance he gets, he enjoys her reactions (and her attempts to not react).

however, macaque starts getting more and more attached the longer he spends with her. even when he's antagonizing the other members of the group, he'll make sure she's not in harm's way. he'll extricate her from the gang's fights against other villainous demons (usually against her will), shadowing her away to safety.

it doesn't help that once he stops outright pestering her, she warms up to him more, too.

it's working in macaque's favor that wukong already established mandatory visits for xiaotian every so often to make sure he's not slacking, so if mac leaves for the city— eh, he's just checking on the kid, no big deal. he tells wukong almost everything about his visits, but not about his favorite human. wouldn't want him to get too curious; mac knows his brother, and he knows what's gonna happen if wukong finds out about reader.

is it really so wrong that he wants to keep this one fun thing for himself?

———

the monkey king finds it a bit strange that his shadowy brother is spending so much time in the city they ever-so-often destroy. sure, he knows mac likes to cause trouble, but his visits are usually more sporadic.

wukong is beginning to think he's not even visiting xiaotian anymore.

when wukong makes the decision to check on his son himself, he goes to the noodle shop in disguise (it's a bit tough to get anything done when the very sight of you is enough to incite a panic). it's been a while since he's interacted with a mortal that wasn't running from him in terror, so he's a bit awestruck when reader greets him kindly. he's embarrassingly unused to being spoken to like a normal person, but he manages to not make too much of a fool of himself.

he chats her up while he waits on both his son and his order, finding himself charmed. she's sweet, she likes jokes, she's pretty and nice and wukong likes it when she laughs—

he wants to see her again.

so he does. wukong no longer tells macaque to check on xiaotian, instead making the visits himself. seeing as his kid has taken up residence in the noodle shop, is it really so strange that he visits so often?

he also "runs into" reader when she's buying groceries or making a delivery, and offers to help her. he counts the little meetups as "dates" and is working his way up to asking her to be his officially. he won't resort to "ancient demon courting methods" just yet.

he also hasn't told her who he really is. he changes his distinctive facial markings and lightens his hair a shade, shifts the color of his eyes from bloody red to less threatening gold, and wears his hood up. he tells reader he "tries to keep a low profile"; monkey demons get a bad rap in this city, what with that dreaded monkey king always causing havoc.

he'd like for reader to come to care for him like he does her. but, since there's a chance she won't be as open to being with him if she finds out he's the monkey king and not just your average run-of-the-mill monkey demon, perhaps it'd be best to keep his true identity a secret for a while longer.

of course, he eventually runs into macaque (while on his way to reader's place, so he saw macaque leaving from there), and they have a fun lil conversation (that eventually turns into a brawl) about the whole situation. wukong makes fun of his lil brother for falling for a human, macaque hits him back with the fact that it took wukong even less time to fall for her than it took him, it goes back and forth.

when the battle cools off, the brothers talk sincerely about how they feel. neither are willing to give reader up, so...they'll share, like they always have. they both continue to court an adorably but frustratingly oblivious reader, eventually meeting her at the same time and telling her that they're brothers. she's only mildly surprised, to their relief. they're both glad they've fallen for a human who's so comfortable around demons, especially ones as powerful as them. it's not often that a human isn't immediately off put by their aura of strength.

things are calm for a while. xiaotian is being a hero and having fun adventures with his friends, the two monkey warlords are staying out of trouble (mostly), reader is happy... all is well.

however, it eventually starts falling apart.

things quickly begin to change. just visiting reader occasionally isn't enough; wukong wants her to live on his mountain with him. he wants to reveal himself as the monkey king and let reader know the truth. he wants to show her the stone palace, the fruit tree forests, he wants her to meet his people. yet macaque insists they take it slow, that stealing her will just make her afraid of them (and should only be a last resort). he doesn't mind a little fear, but it'll hurt their chances in the long run. so, wukong refrains.

still, he's getting tired of going to the city.

and it's getting increasingly dangerous there, besides. more and more powerful adversaries are coming out of the woodwork, and reader keeps getting caught in the crossfire. nothing serious has happened yet, but perhaps the king will need to arrange a surprise relocation for his darling peach...

———

it happens sooner than he expected.

a powerful foe re-emerges, and xiaotian and his friends aren't strong enough to stop them on their own. the young monkey demon is forced to call on his family for help, both his villainous father and shady uncle arriving just in time to help slow the threat.

the monkey warlords make the fight exponentially easier, their brutality in battle on full display.

wukong can't hide his identity from reader any longer. she knows who he is now, has seen the friendly facade of the peach-colored mask fade into the bright red of his signature warpaint-like markings. she's just a scared and betrayed as he thought she'd be. she knows just what monster she's been dealing with now.

said monster sees an opportunity, and he's done playing around.

while her friends are occupied with finishing off the demon...

...wukong steals reader.

a fitting reward for aiding in saving the world, he thinks.

[strangeninjahideout]

In a world that lost its humanity and left more than 2.3 million people who were killed in Gaza, death is not as cruel as the life we prefer to live in the midst of the so-called metaphorical life.. I ask you to help me and my family to go out of Gaza and reach a safe city. We need our simple right to live in peace.

Hello world, I am Muhammad, a nurse in progress, living in North Gaza. This is my story in a few words.

Before October 7th, I was a student at the College of Nursing. I loved life and had many friends, but I lost a lot of them due to the occupation. I lost my college, my room, my home, and my sense of normalcy. October 7th was a turning point for me and my family. The war came without any previous warnings. The Israeli occupation is killing us in Gaza day by day. Circumstances are getting worse, and the suffering has reached its highest levels since the first day of this war.

November 19th was the worst day for us. We survived and came out of the mouth of death when the Israeli occupation bombed our house. Now we are homeless. We will never forget the feelings of fear and panic we experienced. We waited for sunrise to move from the place. We left everything behind—home, friends, university, childhood dreams, and my father. We were trying to survive without food, clothes, or even hope to continue this life. The family dispersed and fled to the south of Gaza, which was supposed to be a classified safe place. The explosions were happening all around us. We saw martyrs and wounded people lying on the ground, and no one could save them. The snipers were everywhere.

We will never forget what we have seen: bodies scattered on the ground, armed soldiers, and huge tanks surrounding us. The fear was evident on everyone's face. We traveled a long distance, each of us carrying a backpack with any clothes we could collect. Finally, we reached Deir al-Balah, thinking we would find safety as the Israeli occupation told us. We are currently temporarily staying with a nice family who hosted us. We are now without any shelter. We don't know what we will do next, we lost everything we had. We went to a small apartment where more than 30 people live. We had no beds or blankets. We struggled to get water and bread. Unfortunately, we are homeless.

My family members include my dad, Hassan, 47 years old, my mom, 45 years old.

And my sister, Lana, who is a mother of a newborn baby girl born at the beginning of the war. Lana lost her new home, her husband's job, and all her dreams.

Ritta, 7 years old, has been shining since her first day at school, coming to her first grades with love, vitality, and brilliance, but the occupation prevented her from playing like other children and deprived her of her friends and school.

My sister, Sama, is studying at middle school, which is supposed to be the stage of launching into the world, forming friendships, and strengthening her personality, but the occupation prevented her from continuing her education and seeing her friends. She lost many friends because the occupation killed them!

This war is still killing us slowly, and we can't go on anymore. The conditions in Gaza Strip are getting worse. There is no pure drinking water, we can't find the food we used to buy, and the prices here are so expensive that they compete with the most expensive countries in the world. There is no shelter and no safe place in Gaza.

Amidst the despair, there is a chance for survival with your generous support. We can escape the horrors of war and cross the borders from Gaza to Egypt. Your donation could mean the difference between life and death for my beloved family. One person who doesn't currently hold a passport costs between $5,000-$10,000 to reach Egypt alone and leave outside the walls of this war. If you can't send money, you can help by sharing my link.

If you got this far, I am grateful that you gave us part of your time. Please, help my family and me write a new happy chapter—one of survival, safety, and hope. Your kindness will not be forgotten, and we will be forever grateful for your support in our darkest hours.