#and i have a fondness for his correspondence that is equal to the kind of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crystalmannequin · 4 months

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a little ebony rabbit adorned with a crimson ribbon hopped up to the warrior. its appearance & energy are curiously innocent despite the powers of chaos flowing through its veins. it had a letter in its mouth! "for you! for you!" it chirped like a child, sweetly, setting it down & hopping away in a puff of smoke. the contents of the message held the fragrance of roses & bergamot; vestiges of the bunny's masters perfume.

dear warrior,

you may not feel this way but i have quite enjoyed our little spats. i doubt you understand what i am talking about & yet, i still felt it necessary to mention. so, i had to tell you. i like you. i want you. your death won't satisfy me at all since you do not bleed so easily. i prefer my hands stained with blood. but i always treasure a good doll, a gracious puppet. once you are broken enough, i want to keep you! i will mend & mend & mend & mend you each & every time you get a little crack.

be my pet ~ Fina ❤️

The Warrior of Light considered the letter at his feet for a moment, glancing up as the rabbit disappeared in a smoky haze before returning his gaze to the correspondence before him. Clearly, it was some kind of trap - chaos had all but emanated from the little conjuration sent to deliver the letter, and it took no preternatural senses to divine that an animal shouldn't be speaking or evaporating into dark clouds. It would be smartest to produce a Red Fang and burn the letter right where it sat before whatever hex was woven into the paper got triggered.

Naturally, the Warrior leaned down and picked it up, holding it gingerly at the edges. It was late at night; having volunteered for watch, as he usually did, and refraining from waking his companions up for their own turns as he ought, he was the only one awake. It would be a struggle to see anything in the inky blackness where only monsters were at home, but the moonlight fell neatly over their camp, and it was just bright enough to read by. An odd spot of luck.

"... What?" He muttered quietly, vexed, as he scanned through the letter's contents. Of course, he didn't need the signature at the bottom to place the sender in his mind - it was the sorceress that Garland ... employed? Employed. The manner in which it was written, and even the method of delivery were obvious enough to act as their own calling cards. While he couldn't care less for whatever nonsense she saddled him with during any one of their usual encounters, this was ...

Begrudgingly, he had to admit she was correct in her forewarning. He didn't understand what he was supposed to glean from this at all. Nor what response she expected. Not only was the concept of an enemy liking him in any way strange and unreasonable - he was opposing her, after all, and she him. Fondness would make it unnecessarily difficult to do such a thing - but the rest was equally as unbelievable.

He could understand that someone might enjoy battle, as it seemed to be the very impetus of some peoples' existence - and there was no other reason, because he did not enjoy fighting no matter how often he was accused of it, he did not - but why was the bloodshed important? Was it not the act of engaging in combat itself that would prove most satisfying? Apparently not for the witch. Perhaps it was because she was a mage. They weren't very inclined towards physicality.

It was the final suggestion and contention of the letter that made him strongly consider balling it up and crushing it under his boot. He didn't do that, but only because it would be loud and might wake up one of his more light-sleeping comrades. She wanted to keep - what did she think he was? An object? He was a human. He supposed it was metaphorical, like how he recalled some of Chaos' warriors referred to their counterparts. Even so, it made him uncomfortable.

"What kind of folderol ...?" He shouldn't even grace it with a response. Still, instead of disposing of the letter as he very much wanted to, the Warrior folded up the paper and slipped it into his belongings.

It unsettled him deeply; not even anything Garland had ever said to him elicited such a feeling. So he wouldn't destroy it. He didn't have many things that could inspire intense emotions like that, even if they were unarguably negative.

But he had absolutely no interest in Fina's deranged proposition.

#𝓲 𝓪𝓶 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓭 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 . (answered ask)#𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓮; 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓽𝔂 (sanguinesocierie)#𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓰𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓶 (ff1)#(HEHEHE I LOVED THIS ONE)#(yeah. human. sure you are buddy. uh huh)

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furys-mercy · 1 year

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An Invitation

The crisp white envelope stood out against the grime of the Machinist’s desk. It did not belong here, sandwiched between a cracked mug filled with the dregs of yesterday’s coffee and an ashtray that had needed emptying for what appeared to be weeks. The machinist stared down at it with a mix of confusion and contempt. The pristine wax seal stared back at him as if it were equally as noble as the crest it bore.

“It’s gotta be some sorta fuckin’ mistake.”

“iT Is NoT. I AcCepTed ThE DELiveRY MySeLf.” The black lacquered mammet snapped back, clearly not fond of being questioned. “They ASKeD FoR MaSter By NaMe ANd The EnVELOpe Is AddReSsed tO AuGUSt MeRCeR.” Gadget stopped his sweeping and turned to face his master with one claw-like hand on his metal hip. “AnD YoU ARe AUguSt MERceR.”

“Right, yeah. I got all’a tha’ ta first time ya said it.” A strand of black hair slipped into his face as he continued to stare down at the unopened letter. “But letters like this only lead ta trouble. Ain’t nothin’ good tha’ can come from bein’ noticed by…” Mercer picked up the envelope, leaving a smudge of soot and grease in his wake. “Wha’ even is this seal?”

“It APPeaRs To bE A PeAr.”

“Well ain’t tha’ jus’ terrifyin’. A fuckin’ pear.” He turned the letter over in his hand, further staining it. Seeing his name written in such a delicate hand brought forth a shudder. “I’d’ve picked somethin’ more terrifyin’. A wolf or maybe a dragon. Ain’t nobody afraid of a pear.”

“YOu aRe ShaKinG. Is THaT NOt A Sign oF FeaR In YOur KiND?” Could mammets sound smug? Gadget sure seemed to be making a valiant attempt at it as he returned to his sweeping.

“Look here ya li’l shite…” Mercer ripped into the letter as he attempted to defend his honor, splitting the terrifying pear in two with a single swipe of his scarred fingers. “I ain’t scared’a fuckin’ pears. M’ point is tha’ letters from on fuckin’ high ain’t ever good news. Who knows wha’ this fucker wants. Prolly some shite ‘bout…”

The letter unfolded easily in his hand revealing a quaint little note in the same delicate hand that had addressed the letter.

Sir, it is with a great deal of interest that I write to you. I have recently found myself in search of a particularly skilled goldsmith. When seeking out recommendations, your name was the one most often mentioned.

I would be honored if you would join me for tea in two nights time. So that we may discuss my needs and your availability.

Please find my calling card enclosed.

I look forward to the pleasure of your company.

Lady Marcette de Lamoreaux

A card edged in gold slipped from behind the now soot-covered letter and fluttered to the floor.

“A Goldsmith?” Mercer ignored the card and returned his attention to Gadget. “Is tha’ wha’ Bash has been tellin’ people I am?”

“I Am nOT PRivY tO sEr VaIreMoNT's CoRreSpoNdEncE.” The mammet could still be heard quite clearly over the sound of his broom on the stone floor. “BUt ARe YOu Not A GOLdSmiTh?”

One could almost hear the sound of the machinist’s eyes rolling. “Not tha’ kind she’s lookin’ fer. Ain’t in tha business’a tiara’s an’ shite.”

“YOu seeM To Be Out Of BuSiNesS At ThE MOmeNt.” The mammet turned back to face him, his bright yellow eyes daring him to disagree. “The ForGE HaS BeeN CoLd FoR MANy A MoOn. YoU ArE iN No PLaCe To RefUse HeR.”

Mercer opened his mouth to argue as Gadget raised a single finger to interrupt. “I ShaLL WRite To InFOrM HEr Of YoUr ACcEptAnce. WHiLe YoU…” That same finger was now pointed directly at Mercer. “WorK To OvErcoMe YOur FeAR Of PeArS.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ic fiction #into the unknown #the game begins #august mercer #gadget #marcette de lamoreaux

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akasha-game · 2 years

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Item Insights

I might as well connect the last update to one of my favorite topics: food.

Food

Hi there, fellow organic being! If you're reading this, you have eaten a food at least once! Well, I guess you could be a sapient robot who tripped over a diode, fell into a time rift, and-- wait, I've made this joke before. Never mind! On to the good stuff!

Food, when eaten, grants a buff and restores some Life. That you already know. However, each type of food also comes with a star rating that relates to the restaurant you ordered it from. Each food item ranks between 0-3 stars, much like the star rating given to restaurants in the Michelin Guide. In this case, though, the star rating is a measurement of the food's nutritional quality, rather than a measurement of how snobby the restaurant's patrons are.

A food's rating affects how much Life is restored when eaten, and the strength of the buff granted by it. This is indicated by the buff's "stacks" value, which is equal to the star rating plus one. That burger I ate was 0 stars, which makes sense. I'm pretty sure it was one of those show burgers they use in commercials that's actually made of wax and shit.

You can also order up to five servings of a food at once. The number of servings multiplies the Life restored, the corresponding buff's duration, and, uh, the price. I'm not too fond of that last one.

To get higher quality food, you have to visit better restaurants, of course (provided you can afford it). Take note that Burger Panther is actually a 1-star restaurant but ordering out reduces the food's rating by one star in exchange for the convenience. Man, they really did just give me one of those wax burgers, didn't they?! I don't know what's worse, them doing that or me actually kind of finding it tasty. I guess I should be thankful they didn't spit in it or something.

At least, I think they didn't. I hope.

The Cooler

Okay, so I brought a cooler with me. I was planning on getting together with some friends, but stuff happened blah blah blah I'm here now. I stocked some food in it for all of us, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Using the cooler allows me to select one of the food items stored in it to eat. I can store up to four food items at once, in case I'm in a place I can't order more from. Take note that I can't use the cooler when enemies are nearby.

Storing food is also simple, just have the cooler equipped upon collecting it.

When I order food from a menu or get it from some other source that shall remain undisclosed, I'll automatically store it in the cooler. If it's full, I can choose to either eat it right there or put it back.

I'll see you again, my sweet little honey buns. Soon, but not soon enough.

Uhhhhh so yeah that's it for food. See you next time!

#indiegamedev #gamedev #indiedev

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bookoformon · 2 months

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Ether Chapter 5. "The Database."

The Prophet engages in self-promotion for his Book, which is impossible to understand without a proper interpretation. Even still nothing we have discovered has been untruthful and or unremarkable:

Three witnesses and the work itself will stand as a testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.

The Rab says the world stands upon three pillars that roughly correspond to the impetuses of the Christian Holy Trinity:

The study of the Torah.

2. Sacrifices.

3. Acts of kindness.

The difference between animal man and man is sentience. Sentience is the ability to apprehend the I AM in all things and empathize with their need to compete for the survival of the fittest. We are the most fit when we empathize with this struggle in the lives of others and they in ours. The Torah which calls itself hard labor, trains the brain so that it becomes capable of acts of kindness without the expectation of reward but because it is the right thing to do at all times.

The Book of Mormon, an offspring of the Torah was written to call our attention to this. The Prophet says within, more than once this can only be done if one comes to God in the name of Christ, which does not mean say the magic words or pray but to dedicate oneself to the delivery of others from slavery and oppression.

No other course of action will suffice if one wants to attain to the promises of God for salvation in this life or the next. The Prophet says since we don't know when we will meet our maker, the Hour for the relief of suffering is always this one:

1 And now I, Moroni, have written the words which were commanded me, according to my memory; and I have told you the things which I have sealed up; therefore touch them not in order that ye may translate; for that thing is forbidden you, except by and by it shall be wisdom in God.

2 And behold, ye may be privileged that ye may show the plates unto those who shall assist to bring forth this work;

3 And unto three shall they be shown by the power of God; wherefore they shall know of a surety that these things are true.

4 And in the mouth of three witnesses shall these things be established; and the testimony of three, and this work, in the which shall be shown forth the power of God and also his word, of which the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost bear record—and all this shall stand as a testimony against the world at the last day.

5 And if it so be that they repent and come unto the Father in the name of Jesus, they shall be received into the kingdom of God.

6 And now, if I have no authority for these things, judge ye; for ye shall know that I have authority when ye shall see me, and we shall stand before God at the last day. Amen.

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 1: I have told you the things which I have sealed up; therefore touch them not in order that ye may translate; for that thing is forbidden you. The Value in Gematria is 8191, חאטא‎ , "A sin."

We must go to church or temple and listen to experts argue against society. Not against lingerie, gender , marriage equality or abortions but against immorality. Redefinitions of these things outside the direct meaning of the Torah by amateurs is a sin.

v. 2: And behold, ye may be privileged that ye may show the plates unto those who shall assist to bring forth this work. The Value in Gematria is 8257, חבהז‎‎, fondness, behazi, "in my chest."

v. 3: And unto three shall they be shown by the power of God; wherefore they shall know of a surety that these things are true. The Value in Gematria is 8972, ח‎טז‎‎ב‎, hatzab, "the turtle."

=Do not bear a grudge.

When turtles are threatened, they either leave the area or protect themselves inside their shells, rather than fighting back. The Torah says, "You shall neither take revenge from nor bear a grudge against the members of your people; you shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18). When someone offends you or hurts you, sometimes it is a good idea to respond with love and end the fight by not fighting back.

v. 4: And in the mouth of three witnesses shall these things be established; and the testimony of three. The Value in Gematria is 12092, Ibafestab, "the island festival" AKA the ascenscion of a unified Kingdom of Israel and the onset of Mashiach.

v. 5: And if it so be that they repent and come unto the Father in the name of Jesus, they shall be received into the kingdom of God.

The Value in Gematria is 5492, הד‎טב‎, אתה דטב, ‎"you are the database."

v. 6: And now, if I have no authority for these things, judge ye; for ye shall know that I have authority when ye shall see me, and we shall stand before God at the last day. The Value in Gematria is 12261, יבווא‎, yevva, "the imports will come."

The Prophet is employing men and women who understand the Torah and how to decrypt its hidden messaging and add the Book of Mormon to their arsenal. This is the only way its utter meaning, which started a War Between the States for the sake of the righteous, can can help us do the same thing - and finally win- once again.

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kitkatt0430 · 1 year

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🌻🍌🍒

🌻 favorite funny quote from a published work

I've written a number of silly stories, so I do have several favorite silly quotes.

When he writes the 'autobiography of Harrison Wells' she messes with the correspondence between him and his editor in order to draw out the process a few extra weeks and then gets a number of hilarious typos and grammatical errors included in the first run of the book. (Harassing Wells was mostly edited out of subsequent editions, but they never did manage to catch all of them.)

from Gideon vs The Reverse Flash

Gideon messing with Eobard's autobiography is just so amusing to me. In part because of how many times Barry must've read that thing - he probably caught all the typos and misspellings and found them funny. But also Gideon arranging for the deliberate misspelling of Harrison as 'Harassing' just makes me grin.

🍌 favorite funny quote from a wip

No one does the supervillain thing with more dedication and class than Eobard Thawne. (Leonard Snart can just shut the fuck up and take his stupid cold puns with him. He's not a villain. He's an anti-something or other and does not count.)

From Timeless Nonsense which is going to be such a crack fic

The whole intro sequence is amusing to me - Eobard is such a drama queen and he knows it and owns it. That's where this quote comes from since I haven't gotten far with it yet. But I do know that his dislike of Leonard Snart is gonna continue throughout what will no doubt be a very silly series. He does not like Len getting to be Barry's first recurring villain and, since Barry knows who Eobard is from the start, he gets to complain to Barry about it. To Barry's equal amusement and annoyance.

By that point in the story Eobard will have been disconnected from the Negative Speed Force (with the NSF shut down entirely), so Eobard's a recovering bad guy at that point. He just misses the rush of fighting with Barry and grumpy someone else gets to have the fun.

🍒 favorite sweet quote from a wip

The big man froze in place and then demanded, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Fixing what Ray broke,” Barry responded mildly. “I’m nearly done, though it’ll need testing. I might not be quite the mechanical engineer it seems Snart was, but I should be good enough to repair this properly.”

Mick looked away, eyes distant and the anger having dimmed already. “I learned how the Heat Gun works inside and out. Never bothered to learn how to repair the Cold Gun though. Didn’t think I’d need to.”

from The One Where Barry Steals Mick From the Legends

The title is a placeholder but I'm fond of it at this point. Anywho, it's probably more bittersweet than straight up sweet, but I'm fond of this part because Ray destroys the Cold Gun... but we never see it get fixed. And with all the bad treatment Mick gets in S2...

Barry fixes the Cold Gun, compliments Len's intelligence, and generally treats Mick - and Mick's feelings of loss - with respect and kindness. And Mick really needs that.

#kitkatt0430 answers #quote ask game #fic ask game #emoji ask game

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drgrlfriend · 3 years

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Freedom's Reach

It's here! The first chapter of my @winterhawk-olympic-bang fic is posted, with a chapter per day to be posted in the evenings until the fic is complete on 11/15.

So, if you like:

- Historical Western AUs where no one is actually a cowboy

- Mail order husband AUs except -- oops, did Bucky really order one?

- A world without racism, homophobia, or sexism except the American Civil War still happened, shhh, don't think about it too hard, it's fanfiction

- Introducing Gosh!Clint Barton because Clint is a little (6'4") optimistic ray of sunshine despite being left for dead by his brother and the circus crew

- Bucky Barnes as a disabled Civil War veteran still dealing with the impact of imprisonment at Andersonville

- SO much pining. Just, ALL the pining, and lingering glances, and unspoken words

Then, this is the fic for you! Freedom's Reach

When he can’t stand it any longer Clint tentatively makes his way to the mouth of the alley and peers around the corner. Frank is gone, the street bustling with strangers. Clint stops at the first windowfront, back to the street, taking a closer look in the window’s reflection. No one he recognizes.

He’s about to move on when his eyes drift up to the lettering at the top of the window.

FREE PASSAGE TO THE WEST!

Clint knows that the circus folk mock him — call him too trusting, too soft-hearted — but even he knows nothing in this life comes free. The words puzzle him, and he reads them again carefully to make sure he hasn’t made a mistake.

There’s a series of notices posted underneath them, all starting with the same words. “Western Man Seeking a Wife —”

Oh. Clint has heard something about this, this idea of correspondence brides. Life in the circus has left Clint with a varied and colorful vocabulary, especially when it comes to curse words, but he never got much schooling. Still, he’s curious enough to skim the postings, eyes catching on words here and there that he recognizes, laboriously sounding out a few others.

… good cook …

… keep house …

… child-bearing …

… God-fearing …

Clint has the passing thought that even if he were female, he still wouldn’t meet the standards of even the most desperate Western man.

A tap on the glass sets Clint’s heart thumping again. There’s a woman on the other side of the window with bright eyes and brown hair in an elaborate braided updo topped with a giant bow. She gives him a cheerful wave and then taps the glass again, directing his attention to the lower right side of the window. There is a smaller section of postings there.

Clint tilts his head in confusion, but when she taps the glass again he ducks down to read one of those postings, and — oh.

“Western Man Seeking a Husband —”

This section is smaller, but seems to be just as exacting as the one above.

… good moral character …

… well-learned …

… skilled at farming ...

Shit. Poor hearing aside, it doesn’t sound like any of his circus skills have value out West either.

His eyes are drawn to one posting at the very bottom corner, different from the others. This one is sun-faded and starting to yellow, curling up at the corners.

Clint crouches down, brow furrowing and lips moving as he sounds out some of the unfamiliar words.

Western Man Seeking a Husband — I am a kind and unassuming man of good financial means seeking a helpmate and companion. I have lost my arm in the service of our Union, but am otherwise free from disease. I am not particular as to looks, but am seeking an individual of equal youth and vivacity with whom I can share my affection and devotion. I am a man of quiet habits, moderate temperament, and kind disposition and would seek the same in my husband. I am not overly fond of society and prefer to be at home, but I will make an effort to provide my husband with social engagements befitting his interest in such activities.

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love-hatred-stuff · 3 years

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Villain's girl } Im Changkyun [monsta x]

genre: royal/soldier au, vampire au

warning(s): mentions of war(indirect), kind of kidnapping

word count: 1.9k

He, he was perfect, but I just wasn't ready to get involved with him.

I knew I would regret it because we needed each other. But he just hurt me too much. No, actually I really didn't care about myself. Still, I ran away from him again, probably the most unnecessary decision of my life. The only thing that stood in my way was my fear of the gilding of his life. I simply wasn't worth it, was I?

before:...

I was lying on a green meadow that was on a mountain. Hundreds of Lisianthus flowers had grown next to me. I loved them, their scent, their colors and also their sizes. They had a calm effect on me because I had known them since my short childhood.

I've been looking after myself since I was ten years old. My parents? Probably dead. They had left me for a reason unknown to me, but I hadn't thought about it for a long time, because it had racked my mind for the next thirteen years after they disappeared.

Now I was lying here and as far as I knew it was my birthday that day. I couldn't exactly remember that date, but I had celebrated it over and over again on the same day for a long time.

It wasn't a big deal to me as it wouldn't change anything in my life but I was finally eighteen.

The sun had just started to rise, but I wanted to start the day like this, with a quiet hour on my favorite meadow in the morning sun that smiled at me. Unfortunately she was the only one who did that.

Often times I would lie there all night and watch the stars. I was more than lonely, for many years I hadn't met anyone except soldiers who attacked and burned villages, as well as my house eight years ago.

I lost my parents, my house, my food and everything else I owned. Even if it wasn't much, my already small property shrunk even more. But I had to take it for what I was, what I was trying to do.

Despite my health, which had kept up well, I had thoughts of suicide several times. Jumping off a cliff is, eating any branches and herbs. And after a few temptations, I gave up. I couldn't do that to myself yet.

As slowly as possible, I got up to look for something to eat. I didn't really liked to go hunting because I was very fond of animals and hated to hurt them, so I mostly ate berries or mushrooms.

Except once a week, I took my bow with arrow to get me a hearty meal.

When I finally got up on my two legs, I ran and went to my hut, which I had built a long time ago from branches and bushes.

I was there in no time, but something bothered me. Everything was still in its place, but I could make out a musty smell of smoke, which made me cringe.

I looked around silently and indeed, about half a mile away, a huge gray cloud was making its way through the trees.

My heart pounded alarm and without thinking twice, I sprinted in the opposite direction from which the possible fire was coming.

At the moment I didn't care about my growling stomach, nor my hut.

After a while of running I could hear voices in the direction I was walking towards.

I slowly walked slowly in order to be able to listen to every sound, no matter how small. But suddenly a soldier was standing in front of me who looked at me with a grin. I was wearing only a thin, white, yet dirty dress that hung airily up to my knees.

Uncomfortable, that's how I felt. I had never had closer contact with men, how could I (?).

"Well, who do we have here?" The soldier mockingly said.

I just widened my eyes, not to mention my mouth, which had been open since I saw him.

After a short time, more and more soldiers came and looked at me, but I was frozen. People were so fascinating but at the same time so nauseating. The soldier, who was still grinning stupidly at me, stepped closer and grabbed my hand.

"The little one must have forgotten how to speak. But she is breathtakingly beautiful. Take a look at her, guys!" He asked his men to examine me too, which is why they all took a few steps closer.

"Hey!" I heard it from not far away, in the woods.

The one whose voice it was now also ran towards me, which made me take some steps back.

"Don't touch her! She's an innocent one!" The soldier who was now standing in my immediate vicinity.

Fortunately for me, he now attracted the attention that had been on me. He pushed the others away from me, who then stumbled backwards. Then he grabbed my wrist and I felt a heat rise in me instantly, it was a completely new feeling.

I looked into a prominent face with defined cheekbones, which made him look very masculine to me. He looked like someone that could be royal, naturally beautiful.

He looked at me out of his intense brown eyes in which I could have lost myself in, in a matter of seconds.

He raised his hand, pushed a strand of hair out of my face and touched my cheek in the process. All I could do was to stay still like a statue and admire his figure.

His dark black hair that was a little messed up and some strands also graced his face.

A cold but pleasant shiver ran down my spine from his touch. I was fascinated by his looks, it seemed like he looked like a friendly devil. Although his features seemed absolutely flawless, he radiated a dark aura. I couldn't see it but I could sense it. He also had broad shoulders from which two muscular arms protruded. He was looking like a God next to me.

"She really is quite acceptable. Nevertheless, she has to come with me." He pulled me by the arm to the horses, which were not far away at a campsite.

Damn. I should have run faster, now I have to go with them if I don't get a chance to get out of here. I blamed myself silently.

The men were in the majority and clearly superior to me.

The Soldier's grin was quite strong and even when we were already in one of the tents, he was still holding onto my arm tightly. After we I hissed in pain.

Besides all that, I was still totally in shock as it was my first close contact with people in many years.

Suddenly he stopped and took a close look at my body, me not really thinking anything, because I first had to get used to people's behavior and body language.

With his gaze he stopped where he had gripped me tightly to probably prevent me from running away, but slowly the pressure got too big and hurt. Immediately he let go, but he took a closer look at the now yellow spots that adorned my arm.

They weren't the only wounds I had, I kept getting injured and accordingly had blood wounds or scratches all over the place. We were alone in the tent and he finally broke the silence.

"Who did this to you?" He asked, pointing to my wounds, like the blood stain on my dress, over my stomach. At first I didn't know what he meant but then I understood. He meant if I had been hurt by someone else.

"Nobody." I answered clearly and looked up into his wonderful eyes that flashed at me.

"What's your name?" Was his next question.

"Y/n. I think." I guessed to myself.

My name had never been relevant, but I still had vague memories from my childhood and how I was often addressed by that name back then. In the other moment, his gaze softened. He put a strand behind my ear again, as he had earlier. My attention went to his full lips which he twisted into a small grin.

“You are beautiful, Y/n. You will be mine I promise it. Nobody's going to get you." He said with determination.

What did he say? Was that just a compliment? If so, then they sound really nice, but actually I didn't really know what they meant to me. Although I could speak his language fluently and had a good vocabulary to choose from, I wasn't up to date.

"What do you mean?" I was taught to ask when you didn't understand someone, so I did just that.

"Means that we will take you to the palace where you can be sold." He suddenly changed his face and removed his hand from my cheek where it had lingered for a moment.

He had just changed his mind from one second to the other. He wanted me to be his and complimented me, so what now? Now he just wanted to drag me along and let me get sold? Great, I probably wouldn't find a way out on all these soldiers.

"But, to whom should I be sold?" If it was to my advantage I would accept it, then I would no longer be alone and would finally be among people who were equal to me.

"To some rich snob." He simply replied.

I was surprised at his sudden change of heart, but it was the chance for me to finally escape this hole. It had made me sink deeper and deeper until that point. I was redeemed.

"You have to change. We'll stay here one more night before we leave." He stepped away from me and took a white dress down from a kind of drawer, to give it to me afterwards.

A little baffled, I stood there and took the soft fabric towards me. It was soft and embroidered with small flowers.

"Thanks, where should I change and where should I sleep?" I asked briefly.

"Change here. There's a bed back there, behind the curtain. You will sleep with me, I don’t want you to run away." He answered less summarily.

Only after a short moment I could understand what he wanted from me. He was still standing right in front of my feet and looking down at me.

"So I'm supposed to change here and now?" I asked with disbelief in my voice.

"Yes, you should." He persisted.

I suspected he wouldn't give in, so I told him to at least turn around. Then he innocently raised his hands to shoulder height and obeyed my request. When he let his hands fall again, I pushed my dirty dress off my body, which meant that I stood in front of him, completely bare for a moment. Fortunately, he was standing with his back turned to me. But even if not, I would probably have obeyed, because I didn't know whether I corresponded to the typical image of women and had never had unpleasant situations like this before. That's why I never had a reason to be ashamed of my body. But as I stood in front of him I realized how important it actually was to be able to see someone like that.

I quickly slipped into the fresh dress, which clung to my thin body and my delicate curves. It actually looked very pretty, but I could hardly judge it because I still had no taste for fashion.

"You can turn around." I wanted to point out, but my words got stuck in my throat when I noticed that he had already turned around.

I had focused on my dress the whole time and trusted it. Obviously this was a mistake.

-to be continued-

#changkyun #monsta x #monsta x i.m #monsta x au #royal au #vampire au #monsta x smut

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timelessduet · 3 years

Text

For Victor: 2nd Entry

I’d like to dedicate this work to @sayumiht, a co-Victor stan who made this suggestion. Hope you like it. <3

Subtle Jealousy

Victor is a serious guy. As a CEO, he exudes intimidating and powerful aura wherever he goes. You can probably say everyone fears respects him. That includes her. But it was only at first.

MC still has high respect for Victor as a boss and investor of her company but things were different now. Before, she was as intimidated and fazed to the CEO of LFG like everyone else. That maybe he was just all business and nothing else. He wouldn’t waste time on nonsensical things especially if it won’t bring him any good or benefit. But now... she doesn’t feel that gap anymore.

It‘s probably because she's the object of his hidden affections and love. At first, he was indeed annoyed and mad at her for doing things wrong or talking back to him. He couldn’t tolerate such behavior. With her though, that he changed. He tried to be more patient and accept such changes to his once constant and uneventful life.

Victor admits he suppressed his feelings for her because he had a promise to fulfill for someone in his past. Who would’ve thought that the person he searched for the longest time was her all along?

The people closest to Victor know he isn’t a vocal person. He never really tells what he’s feeling. No matter who it was. That is until he admitted all his feelings to MC after confirming she also felt the same.

He was adamant to confessing first. It wasn’t because of pride or fear of being rejected. Victor considered her side and what she’d feel if that situation was to happen. Him telling her what he truly felt which was out of his character and her being put in a tight spot. He knew of all people how kind the girl he fell in love was. If anything, she’d give a dumb face out of surprise but in the end smile.

But Victor also thought how it would be in her shoes. He wasn’t the one who’d be dealing with a confession from him. It was her. She’ll have the burden choice whether she’ll accept or reject it. And depending on her decision, she’ll have to face the corresponding repercussions. He was well aware being linked to him meant the scrutiny of the public and everyone at work.

Luckily, she felt the same and they got together. After all those years of waiting, Victor is finally with her. Although there were slight changes after being in a relationship, one thing hasn’t change: he was still unable to convey what he felt into words properly.

Victor: What are you doing? You’ve been texting on your phone for quite awhile now. Don’t even think about complaining to me that you’re feeling dizzy or your head hurts later.

MC is currently on her way to work together with Victor in his car.

MC: Almost done. I’m currently talking to Professor Lucien and asking his advice about the current program we’re doing.

Considering the field of work, Victor understood MC had to meet and talk to different people everyday. Even he had the same thing going on. But he can’t help but feel a sudden distaste upon hearing another man’s name. He kept his eyes on the road but had a change in mood instantly.

Victor: Professor Lucien? You could’ve just come to me for advice.

MC: Huh? Should I ask advice from you regarding a neuroscience topic for a show? You’re being a bit weird today, Mr. CEO. The topic is Professor Lucien’s specialty. Plus I heard from Goldman you have a very busy schedule these past few days so I wouldn’t want to bother you with such matter. It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry.

The girl explained it to him but for some reason that even he couldn’t explain, he was silently becoming more and more irritated. With the looks of it, everyone at work will be his outlet.

Victor: Can you tell me what this is?

Victor said while looking sharply at the department heads. He was already in a foul mood after what happened while going to work and as much as he didn’t want to vent his annoyance to his subordinates, they weren’t being any help.

Department head 1: Sir it’s... we’ll revise the report as soon as possible.

Department head 2: We’re very sorry about this, Sir.

Victor: As you should. Get back to work. You’re all dismissed. Send me the revised report through email by the end of the day.

This wasn’t a great day at all. Victor was used to having tons of work and meetings but today particularly, he felt stressed and fatigued.

Goldman: Sir, MC called and just informed she’d be cancelling her meeting with you today. She said there was a sudden event invitation from her alma mater that she needed to attend to.

For one, Victor didn’t believe in luck. But why did it seem like he was quite unlucky today? He pinched the bridge of his nose before asking his secretary if there were still things he needed to attend to for the day.

Goldman: The last on your schedule for the day is with Miss MC, Sir. Since she cancelled, should we have the teleconference with A Company moved this afternoon instead?

The supposed meeting with MC was business related and her giving him a report but he also considers moments like that as some time off from his busy schedule. But now...

Victor: Don’t change anything. We’ll proceed to having the teleconference as scheduled. I’ll take my leave early so have the car ready.

Goldman was surprised the CEO would leave work very early which was unlike him but he didn’t say a word and did as he was told.

Seeming as to how he’s becoming more and more restless, Victor decided to give her a call. What happened next made him feel like he’s been soaked with freezing cold water.

Gavin: Hello, you’ve called MC’s phone. This is Gavin. I’m taking the call for her since she went for the restroom and left her phone with me. What’s...

Without hearing any further, Victor ended the call. It was rude and very unlike him to do have such behavior considering his professionalism and objective way of doing things but this...

Goldman: Sir, aren’t you going to Loveland High to meet Miss MC?

Victor: Change of plans. I’m tired. Go straight home.

Victor was sure MC wasn’t doing anything unfaithful or of the likes behind his back but what was it he was feeling? It was very unpleasant and foreign to him that he just couldn’t explain.

After reaching his home, Victor did his usual routines and finally rested on the sofa. He wasn’t fond of watching television but since his girlfriend produced tv shows... he bought a tv for the living area. Opening the tv, the program on was an interview with a famous superstar.

Interviewer: I see. This is a question many of your fans are curious about. Can we know what our favorite superstar’s future dream projects are?

Kiro: I think I’ve been able to do many projects thanks to my management and fans. But now, I really really want to have a project produced by MC. MC if you’re listening lets do a program together.

So even this young superstar knows his girlfriend. At this point, he wasn’t surprised. Coming to his senses, Victor thought this was normal. She was a producer earning her own reputation in the industry. He should be happy and proud about it and yet... he can’t keep his emotions in check.

Turning off the tv, Victor let out a sigh. He was lost in thought. Why was he feeling this way? He opened his phone thoughtlessly and flashed was his wallpaper. It was a picture of him and her the day they became official.

The picture was rather candidly taken to say the least. They were both wet after what happened in the pool but because of happiness and the effect of alcohol, she insisted on taking that photo on his phone. It was a selfie of MC’s tipsy self smiling while Victor instead of looking to the camera, had a look of tenderness in his eyes directed to her. There was no doubt that was the happiest day of his life.

With all the things that happened, Victor dozed off on the couch. He woke up to a warm hand intertwined to his.

MC: Victor, you’re up. Sorry... Did I wake you?

Victor: It’s fine. I think I dozed off for a while. What time is it?

MC: It’s 9 pm. I’m sorry about suddenly cancelling our meeting earlier. That was wrong of me. I promise to make up for it by doing whatever you want!

Victor: Dummy, you’re being too loud. It’s already late.

MC: Seems like Mr. CEO is back to his usual self after a good nap on the sofa. You still looked formal while sleeping though. Just a little less intimidating? Hope your back isn’t aching. I did want to wake you and bring you to bed but you seemed so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb your precious rest.

Victor: Idiot. You were apologizing just now for cancelling a meeting and here you are now blabbering about nonsense.

MC: !

Victor: You said you’d make up for it by doing whatever I want. I want you to just listen to to me and not say anything. I’ll only say or be like this once so listen carefully. Being with you made me into a dummy. You always smile and find meaning in the simplest of things. You’re kind to the point that you’ll unknowingly be taken advantage of. You complain about gaining weight but still heartily eat my cooking. You’re most of the times scared but put on a brave face and stick to your decision until the end. You’re probably the epitome of contradiction to me in every possible way.

Before, I worried how things would be if I told you how I felt. You’d be the object of everyone’s eyes and criticisms. You’d be looked upon differently. The burden of being with me concerned me more than anything else. Who would’ve thought I worried for nothing. You were a dummy who was capable of handling herself without my help or anyone else’s.

You’re probably thinking why is Victor being very outspoken today and if it’s already the end of the world... I know what’s in an idiot’s head that’s why. I felt strange emotions today. At first I couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly but I think I figured it out. You may be all the things I’ve mentioned MC but you are my equal.

You are the only person who worries me and yet assures me everything is going to be alright. You are the balance in my life I never knew I needed until now.

I’m well aware of the fact that being with me has a lot of weight in it. Still you accepted me without hesitation. I’m sure this idiot will meet people... people far better than me and be fascinated by them. They’ll show or make her realize things I may not be able to. She has so much ahead of her and that I know very well more than anyone else. All I could ever do is wait for her and be the support she needs. She’ll stumble and cry but I hope she knows by the end of the day, she has me.

MC: I’m not sure if this is what I think it is but... is this Victor’s jealous side? Hmm...

Victor: Idiot. Think whatever you like. And didn’t I say you were only suppose to listen and not say a word?

[Author’s Note]: The lines above were supposed to be part of the story but since it kinda affects the speech of our dearest CEO...

Anyways, ahhh I hope I was able to do jealous Vic justice. 😭 He isn’t one to talk his emotions so I hope it still fits his character. What’s it like seeing a jealous LFG CEO? It isn’t the usual, right? Of course, he is Victor Li after all.^^

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zabrak-show · 3 years

Note

In the novel Clone Wars: Stories of the Light and Dark Obi-Wan's chapter retells the episode "The Lawless". While overall I found the book, while certainly not bad, missing a certain something and although some chapters really add to the corresponding episodes such as Rex' retelling of the Umbara arc, many are just very close retellings of the episodes. Now Kenobi's chapter was a mixed bag to me because some of it is really just an exact recount of the events of the episode, however, I found some additions made in regards to Maul interesting.

To no one's surprise there's a bit about Obi-Wan's almost hatred: "Hate was not the Jedi way. But for this man, Obi-Wan had grown weary of keeping it at bay."

Then we get confirmation that Maul is either just very perceptive, simply has Kenobi all figured out or is actually able to mindprobe even such thoroughly trained - albeit here clearly distraught - Jedi as Obi-Wan: "Maul seemed to sense his thoughts."

And of course we have Obi-Wan's reaction to Satine's death - which tbh made me all the more convinced that even though Obi-Wan might have crushed on her as a padawan, he is more fond of than in love sith her at this point -: "When Maul killed Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan was stricken with sorrow. Sorrow gripped him again. But there was something else, as well. Something dangerous. Something that scorched. Satine wasn't Maul's enemy. She was just a tool Maul had used to get something he wanted, the throne of Mandalore. And a tool to hurt Obi-Wan. Using a person that way was the worst form of cruelty. Satine had been a person, and her death wasn't just a loss for Obi-Wan. It was a loss for so many more. She'd been a child on this world. Like other children, she'd taken her first step, uttered her first word, laughed and chased flitters in the tall grass of the Mandalorian plains. She'd learned to read, made friends, suffered hurts, recovered and laughed again. And she'd become a leader. She should have lived to see her world thrive, to see her people find peace, to prosper, to make music and art. She should have grown old and been able to look back on all she'd achieved.

"But in a split second, Maul had ended all that. He'd extinguished a light in the universe and replaced it with shadow. Such an act was truly the definition of the dark side. And Obi-Wan burned with rage.

"With the rage came a vision: Eyes smoldering with hatred. Screams in the red glare of a lightsaber.

"Obi-Wan would cleave Maul in two. He would do much worse. There would be nothing left of him. Or the Dathomirian. Or the commandos, those Mandalorian traitors. He would kill them Almec. He would kill anyone who'd had a hand in overthrowing Satine, anyone who'd contributed to her death.

"And he would kill anyone who tried to stop him. Anyone who stood in his way, by word or by deed.

"Anyone.

"Maul laughed. "And now we see the true Obi-Wan Kenobi. The one he hides behind a mask of wit and charm. The one who yearns to be set free."

"And if Obi-Wan gave in to his desires, he'd be giving Maul exactly what he wanted."

So overall this just aligns with the episode. Although I do think Maul's additional taunt in this is so in character for him (and it'd be hilarious if it weren't for the entirety of the situation that Maul describes Obi-Wan as witty and charming). Although it's interesting just how close Obi-Wan came to falling. And ofc this passage really just hammers home the point that Maul wanted for Obi-Wan to fall to the dark side rather than wanting to kill him.

Anyways. The passage I've been dying to point out as an avid Obimaul shipper is the following:

"You can kill me, but you will never destroy me," Obi-Wan said, trying to keep his anger under control. "It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it."

"It is more powerful than you know."

"And those who oppose it are more powerful than you'll ever be."

There was still a chance to turn this right. He could not overpower Maul, but maybe he could reach him. Maybe he could match Maul's fury, not with equal fury but with understanding. With sympathy. Maul had not always been this way. He'd had his future stolen from him. He'd been warped by the Force-wielders of Dathomir. He'd been groomed to become a creature of anger and vengeance who stood before Obi-Wan.

"I know where you're from," said Obi-Wan. "I've been to your village. I know the decision to join the dark side wasn't yours. I know the Nightsisters made it for you."

Obi-Wan cringed. The words had not come out as he'd intended. He'd wanted to extend a kindness that Maul perhaps never experienced. But he let his own anger and his own fear infect his words with venom."

And then the scene moves along as seen in the episode.

But phew. I feel like there is so much to unpack here. Obi-Wan trying to reach out for Maul is soooo good. I love that meeting anger with understanding and kindness is the Obimaul trope and this is pretty much that. It's interesting that Obi-Wan aknowledges that he couldn't strike the right tone.

Honestly all of this makes me yearn for the AU where he does reach Maul and maybe I'll even write it myself. Just Maul giving in and opening himself up to said kindness (although the staging might have to be different for that e.g. Maul visiting Obi-Wan in prison as an additional scene before he kills Satine).

This also made me reconsider the Siege of Mandalore. We all know, that Maul at that point of the story is not out to kill Kenobi. And honestly, considering that Maul is hyperaware of Kenobi's emotions in these scene and could possibly also have felt Obi-Wan's "kill 'em sith kindness" impulse, isn't it even more likely, that Maul wanted Kenobi to join him in robbing Sheev of his priced pupil Anakin but also killing Palpatine? I always thought Maul wanted to reveal Sidious to Kenobi and he only adapts his plan because it isn't Obi-Wan that arrives. But with this scene in mind, couldn't it possibly be, that Maul remembered that Obi-Wan once tried to reach out for him and wanted to extend the same gesture with the goal of overthrowing Palpatine? Whilst there is this short moment in "The Son of Dathomir" comic in which Maul and Dooku unite in fighting Kenobi, I feel like after Talzin was also killed by Palpatine Maul was kind of aimless - because in the comic he (unfortunately) has essentially moved from seeing himself as Sidious' tool to being Mother Talzin's tool (he even states the latter directly) - and nothing matters to him as much as overthrowing Sidious in that final arc, because he knows if not now then never. He has foreseen what Sidious and Vader will become and knows this is his last shot to truly hurt Palpatine in any way. And lastly Maul is certainly not that delusional that he'd think he can kill Kenobi and Skywalker alone (which is an interpretation I've seen and honestly just feels wrong at that point)

Essentially I am convinced that Maul wanted to form a sort of alliance with Obi-Wan to overthrow Sidious (The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that). Maul knows that Obi-Wan knows him better than anyone and I think at the very least he hoped he could convince Obi-Wan of the truth. Additionally Obi-Wan is the only being left in his life Maul has a connection to, who hasn't been killed by Sidious.

All I am saying is that I join the ranks of other anons and blogs as a huge Obimaul enabler.

Wow!! This was so informative and awesome. I don't have that book so I appreciate the run down A LOT! And will probably save this as reference point tbh.

I don't really have anything to add other than thank you for sharing with me, and that I think you absolutely should write an AU where Obi-Wan is able to reach Maul. How that would play out and what happens when they do is a delicious thought.

#obimaul #long post #thank you for sending all this in #i love reading fan theories and interpretations

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summonerscenarios · 4 years

Note

What if the summoners had a Christmas party.

Everyone is happy including husbandmail.

But the she notice Toji in the corner of the room what will she do?

Bonus: after the party 🥳 Toji and husbandomail Have an evening walk through town and at some point when their stopped their notice a mistletoe above their heads.

ASDFGHJHGFD BOY OH BOY HAS THIS ONE BEEN A LONG TIME COMING. ALLOW ME TO REITERATE THAT I SUCK AT DIALOGUE (especially Toji cause like i suck at it so bad lmao) BUT I REALLY TRIED WITH THIS ONE! (Also had to make this a lil cheesy cause if this really happened Jo would kick out Toji’s knees and that wouldn’t be very fluffy at all lmao) @husbandomail HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!

---------

The party is in full swing by the time it gets dark outside, and doesn’t show any sign of slowing down any time soon. It had taken a lot of work to get everyone in the same place, on top of setting everything up to look perfect and it showed - Jo had spent so long helping Hanuman stringing up decorations from the ceiling, getting frames and cards and signs pinned to the walls, on top of just about every other task that went into setting up the festive mood. By the time they were done everything looked amazing, but she was more than happy to have the chance to relax and sit down before people started coming in for the celebrations.

Jo had taken a seat close by the doors with a hot drink and made herself comfortable, and from the safety of her perch she could look out over the room, eyes scanning the crowd to take everything in. She was met with a sea of familiar faces, the Summoners scattered about the room taking part in the various activities that had been brought into the event room specifically for the party. On the far right of the room Jo could smell the food from the main table, a mixture of dishes both made for the occasion and plates that people had brought in to accompany the main food having made them themselves. Jo could see some of her own dishes among the table, not that she’d ever admit to anyone that she’d gone out of her way to cook them - when Shiro had caught her up in the early hours that same day making food for the party, she’d had to get him to swear secrecy. She’d be so worried that they wouldn’t like the food, but seeing how everyone had all but picked the trays clean over the course of the party had made a rush of pride swell up in her chest at the sight.

She could see Agyo, Kijumuna and Ryota currently swarming the table, picking things from the selection with bright smiles. Jo watches Kiji as he keeps turning to Agyo and Ryota and offering to feed them some of the food from his plate, a sight that is honestly kind of cute as it quickly devolves into the three of them sharing their favorite foods to see if the other likes them. Not too far away from the table there’s a handful of the Summoners in a mix of sitting and laying on the floor, all of them crowded together as they watch the screen that R-19’s projecting from his arm. She has no idea how they’d managed to get the android to use his function to connect to one of Hanuman’s consoles, but it works like a charm, and Kengo and Hanuman have been competing in a multiplayer, getting increasingly more rambunctious with every win and lose. They’d even coaxed Gullinbursti into playing, though it had taken more than a little while of explaining the rules of the game and what button corresponds to what before he was actually able to play. Hanuman’s a far better mentor than he’s given credit for, at least when it comes to video games, but the first few rounds where poor Gull had been staring baffled between the screen and the controller were undeniably adorable when you’d watched him getting the hang of it. Shiro and Moritaka are spectating the game, though they switch between watching the game and talking between one another, sharing a pleasant conversation as they move to take a seat next to R-19 talking about something that Jo can’t make out over the music that’s winding through the room from the music player.

Everyone seems to be having fun, and it’s a well deserved break from everything that’s been happening recently. But as Jo’s eyes look over the group she realizes that there’s just three things missing. Suddenly there’s a sigh next to her and a familiar face slides into view.

“Boy, you sure know how to set up a party, Jo~ - I’ve talked to enough people to last me the year!” Juno hops onto the nearby table, crossing her legs and dropping her chin to rest in her hands as she fixes her friend a lax grin.

There’s one.

“Agreed - but I’m definitely gonna nab a round with Kengo on that game next round!” Another voice pipes up, and sure enough Fel joins the duo and leans against the doorframe, playing with the tinsel decorating the wall as she flashes a similar grin in Jo’s direction.

And there’s two.

Jo’s got a sinking feeling the two of them are planning something when the pair sigh dramatically and lean a little closer, and she buries her attention back into her drink, hoping the hot drink will delay the conversation she feels coming on. There’s another exaggerated sigh before Juno huffs.

“It’s a shame though,” she begins “that someone seems a bit lonely~”

At first Jo thinks that they’re talking about her being sat alone, but when Juno shuffles to the side and jabs a thumb behind her, Jo realizes who she was on about.

Ah - there’s three.

Toji’s over in the far corner of the room, switching between watching the other Summoners mull about the event room, and looking out of the window he’s resting against the windowsill. His arms are folded, and like the others, he’s shed his usual uniform for something more warmer and festive, donning his usual winter outfit barring the bright red christmas sweater that you’re sure Ryota was able to wrangle him into wearing specifically for the occasion. From here, Jo can’t gauge what he’s thinking - as reigned in as he can be, it’s been fairly easy for her to guess at least how he’s feeling when she needs to; it’s almost kind of funny how easy it is, but this time she can’t.

When Jo looks back to Fel and Juno the pair are sticking her with knowing looks, and in response Jo fixes them with a look of her own and hides her face behind her mug even though by this point it’s gone cold.

“Joooo~”

“No”

“But he’s on his own!”

“Don’t care”

“You sure you don’t want to go over and say hi~?”

“Absolutely not”

Jo’s firm, but the pair are equally as stubborn, and soon enough Jo can feel her resolve wavering under the gazes of her friends. They know damn well how she feels about Toji - and if she has anything to say about it, they’ll be the only ones - so Jo has a pretty good idea of the matchmaking scheme that they’re trying to pull by asking her to go over. The three of them stare each other down.

And stare.

And then Jo sighs, placing her mug on the empty table space next to Juno as she moves to stand up.

She doesn’t miss the whispered ‘yes!’ between Fel and Juno as she escapes from the table and slows down her steps the closer she gets to where Toji is. For a moment she wonders if she can just veer over to where the others are playing video games and get lost in the conversation as they place; but then she notices that Toji’s turned away from the window, and when his eyes glance over the room again his gaze catches hers.

“Hey, Toji” Jo greets him as approaches “What’s wrong, not in the celebrating mood?”

“No, I’m...watching” he responds, after a beat of pause, and Jo tilts her head at the reply.

“Watching?”

Toji nods towards the Summoners right as a chorus of laughter rips through the room, Hanuman jumping up and down with a triumphant grin as the results screen flashes on the screen. Everyone’s laughing and smiling, expressions bright and free of any kind of worry - it’s a welcome respite from the usual worries that each of them have been going through this past year. Jo’s quick to piece things together, and quirks a brow as she asks.

“Not used to seeing so many happy faces?”

Toji hums with a nod, and Jo pipes up and motions over to the group.

“You can join in too, y’know. Pretty sure you could beat Kengo at the next level if you can beat Fel to the controller”

“Over my dead body!” comes the yelled response from the other side of the room, right as a controller goes sailing across the room for Fel to catch. Jo can’t help but sigh at the sight, shaking her head before looking back to Toji, who’s looking back out of the window

“Come and join the party, it’ll be fun!”

Toji seems to consider Jo’s offer, and it looks like she might actually convince him to join as he looks back towards the window before answering, only to do a double take and pause.

“Jo, look.”

That catches her attention.

“Yeah? what’s-?

A hand on her shoulder stops Jo mid-sentence and she looks up at Toji, brows furrowed wondering what’s up when she follows his line of sight outside the window. Small white specks land onto the glass, starting out with just one or two, but soon enough more follow, and before she knows it it’s starting to snow. The sight of the snow falling, the soft orange glow of both the inside lights and the lamps outside illuminating them as they fall, has Jo enraptured - when was the last time she’d seen snow?

Her fingers brush against the glass, leaning closer to the glass to look outside and get a better look. With her attention captured on the sight outside, Jo misses Toji glancing at her from the corner of his eye, expression softening as he looks at her eyes, bright and full of wonder as the reflection of the christmas lights dances along the side of her face from this angle. She seems lost in thought, mulling over something in her head as she gazes through the glass and Toji’s expression is fond, though it lasts only briefly before the moment is broken.

“IT’S SNOWING!”

Toji has no idea who yells it, but in a flash Hanuman, Kengo and Fel are bolting for the door, the latter diving under the two and racing outside with the other two hot on her heels. Sure enough the others follow their lead with varying degrees of excitement, and in that moment Jo seems to catch herself and shakes herself from her reverie, taking advantage of the sudden excitement to follow the others outside, turning back towards Toji as though to make sure that he’s coming too. Toji doesn’t hesitate to follow her outside, the two of them trailing behind the rest of the Summoners as they listen to the conversation and laughter echoing down the hall.

--------

The party, thankfully, doesn’t take long at all to clean up, but by the time Jo’s finished she’s the only one left as she puts the last of the chairs away, grabbing her coat and shucking it on as she prepares for the solo walk back home. What she doesn’t expect is to find someone outside waiting for her to come outside.

It’s a hilarious reflection of that valentine’s fiasco the year before, where Toji’d very nearly ran her through with his swords thinking she was an enemy when she was just waiting to walk back with him; this time the tables are turned, and Toji’s got his coat on and scarf wrapped snug around his neck when he greets her just outside of the event hall doors. His offer to walk her home takes Jo by surprise - it sounds kind of cheesy being escorted back late at night by a cute boy while it’s snowing, like something out of a christmas movie, but Jo doesn’t entirely hate the sound of that idea. Toji seems just as surprised at her acceptance, but almost immediately straightens up and falls in stride with Jo’s footsteps as she begins walking.

The peace is a welcome change, and Toji’s surprisingly pleasant company to travel with - there’s no need for forced conversation, no need to wrack your brain for something to say or listen to someone ramble. It’s nice, and Jo finds herself eager to take a little detour through the shopping district to admire some of the lights that had been set up for the coming festivities on the way back. The cold temperature makes her skin tingle, cheeks growing rosy as she burrows further into her coat and looks around at the lights illuminating their path trying to burn them into memory. Who knows the next time these lights are going to be up? How long is this merriment going to last before the break ends?

There’s one particular building that catches her attention - they’ve gone all out on the lights, shaping a few strings of bulbs so that they’re shaped like a ferris wheel, and the way that they blink and shift colors almost makes it look as though it’s moving. She’ll have to remember that for next christmas - if she’s lucky, she’ll be able to convince Shiro that they can get away with putting something like that up outside of the guild for the next party. Hell, maybe she could even get them to set it up for new years, she’d just have to figure out how they hell they-

“Careful!”

A hand grabs hold of her arm and tugs her back, and Jo stumbles a little before catching herself, head swiveling to face the path in front of her. She’d been distracted enough she hadn’t noticed the upcoming stairs were right below her feet until Toji had pulled her back; he’s still holding her arm but his grip loosens significantly when she turns to face him.

“Honestly” Toji shakes his head “you need to take better care not to get sidetracked”

Jo bites back the retort she can feel bubbling up, instead turning her gaze away from him before she can make a quip; instead, she lets her eyes glance upwards to look at the sky, only to catch sight of something dangling from the lampost that the two of them are stood under. It takes a moment, given the bright light making the object in question easy to miss, but Jo makes out some kind of plant dangling over the very top of the pole.

Is...is that...?

“Oh”

“‘Oh?’” Toji mirrors, giving her a confused look.

When she doesn’t look down, Toji follows where she’s staring and looks up. Soon enough, he spots it too.

It’s mistletoe.

“Oh”

Jo doesn’t know what’s more baffling - the fact that someone strung up mistletoe in such a missable spot, or the fact that someone found the time and went out of their way to climb all the way up the pole just to hang a single decoration; but in the time it takes her to realize what she’s looking at, on top of why it’s there, she feels her heart jump up into her throat, and her face starts to feel warm. It seems as though Toji isn’t faring any better, as he coughs awkwardly into his hand and turns away from the lamppost; he tries to avoid looking at Jo, but he keeps glancing back as though trying to gauge her reaction and she’s quick to notice.

With a nervous chuckle, Jo brings a hand to rub the back of her neck, stealing one last glance up at the mistletoe in question.

“So, um…” she attempts to find the right words. “Are we just gonna pretend we don’t see it, or-?”

She was going to suggest leaving it be, but it appears that someone else had different ideas, as before the full sentence can leave her lips the words get muffled as Toji steps forward to claim them. Just about every coherent thought screeches to a stop, and Jo has no idea whether to just drop to the floor and wait for her face to feel like it’s not burning, or to yank him in further by the collar of his coat, but just about every train of thinking leads to the same thing.

Holy shit, Toji’s kissing her.

Okay, Jo will be the first to admit that she’s teased the hell out of Toji in the past; made jokes about looking good in his jacket, playing with his horns just to watch him get ridiculously flustered among other things to get a rise out of him. It’s always been satisfying garnering reactions out of him, and those reactions are one of the reasons she liked him so much in the first place - but given how reserved and generally awkward he is around anything romantic she didn’t expect him to actually do anything!

He’s clearly inexperienced, and his lips tremble a little against hers as he kisses her, but it feels so genuine that the kiss just about takes her breath away. It’s sweet, warm, and over all too quickly. When Toji pulls away his face is starting to turn red and he brings the back of his hand to his mouth giving her a surprisingly bashful look for a boy who’s usually so serious. Jo brings a hand to her lips, almost not believing what just happened as she feels her own cheeks starting to burn. The previous stutter in her thoughts comes back full force, a mix between surprise and flustered silencing just about any words she might say. What comes out instead is a choked noise and she just about wants to kick herself for not coming up with at least a verbal response.

Toji takes a step back, and opens his mouth in what Jo can only assume is gonna be some long winded apology about being abrupt, but she doesn’t even give him the chance to humor the speech before she grabs him by his scarf and yanks him back towards her. This time Jo’s the one to initiate the kiss, and the satisfaction of the muffled gasp he lets out overrides the embarrassment of being so bold as Jo pulls him even closer, winding her hands into the plush fabric of his scarf as she tugs.

A hand comes to rest at the back of her neck and slowly, sweetly, Toji returns the kiss, the previous trembling of his lips now steadier, more assured in his actions this time around. He’s gaining confidence, which Jo’s glad for because she’s pretty sure he’s going to have to catch her by the time they break apart; but for now she’s going to let the moment last, pressing against his chest and kissing, illuminated only by the gentle glow of the lights and with an audience of soft snow drifting down around the pair as their shadows overlap.

#Anonymous #housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo imagine #scenario #housamo scenario #imagines #husbandomail #toji #housamo toji #toji sakamori #the summoners #shameless plug of me and fel in there too cause it's fun lmao #request #ask #oh boy i sure love bullying my friends lmao #it adds a month to my lifespan #rejuvenates the skin

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deathduty · 3 years

Text

Murder on Aisle 5 || Deirdre & Nicole

TIMING: Sometime during Halloween. Yes, Halloween. LOCATION: Grocery Store PARTIES: @nicsalazar & @deathduty CONTENT: Death, gore, bongos SUMMARY: You’ve gotta be kiwiing me; Deirdre and Nicole meet at a grocery store and this shit is bananas (b-a-n-a-n-a-s). They make a great pear. Love each other berry much in this one in a melon meeting of fig-gin amazing circumstances. Nicole is the apple of Deirdre’s eye, and they turnip the beet. Peach out, bitches!

Grocery shopping was one of the things Nicole was capable of doing with efficiency. In and out in less than fifteen minutes. She didn’t like to spend more minutes than necessary debating which items to buy. That way, she avoided the crowd as much as possible. She wasn’t expecting to be greeted by so much noise that day. Busy evening, it appeared. She walked faster, shoulders rising to her ears, in a helpless attempt to cancel the sounds. She’d be done soon, didn’t even need a cart. She tried to ignore the sensation in her stomach warning her something was wrong. That was just her brain being paranoid, surely. But then, as she headed for the beer section, all hell broke loose. Why would people be shouting at others to run? No. Not her problem. She had reached her quota of fucked up encounters for the month, she was not about to go and figure out what was going on. Taking a few steps back she turned around with the intention of going to a different store, stumbling into a body. “Shit!” she raised her hands with the intention to check on the woman she had bumped into, before another piercing scream filled the air. “Sorry… don’t know what’s got people so—” she began to explain, before a small crowd ran toward them, seemingly escaping from… “Ah, fuck off!” It had to be a joke. The causes of the commotion had turned around the corner, standing at the end of the aisle. Dumbfounded, she froze on the spot, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. Judging by the very real blood dripping from the leg of someone who had limped past them, she had just walked into a murder party.

Deirdre liked grocery shopping about as much as she enjoyed actually cooking; it was pointless and all she really wanted was pie anyways. Now that Morgan didn’t eat, the groceries were just for her, and deciding what kind of tomato sauce she wanted was not how she liked to spend her evenings. And she didn’t know what kind of tomato sauce she liked anyways; wasn’t there only one kind? Tomato? When people started to scream and shout beyond her, Deirdre ignored them and looked at the sauces. When she felt a scream claw up her chest, she snapped on her choker, swallowed the scream, and continued to eye the sauce. Should she just buy canned tomatoes and make sauce that way? It was better than the pre-bottled sauce, right? And It was just tomatoes in there anyway, what did it matter? But then what was the point of bottled tomato sauce if it was just tomatoes? These questions plagued Deirdre, and then someone bumped into her and she spun around, as if she’d just been interrupted from having an epiphany, which for all this woman knew, she might have been.

“Oi, watch it, you hu—“ She couldn’t help but notice that this woman wasn’t looking at her, which was as insulting as it was curious. Deirdre turned her head, following her gaze. “Is that a banana holding a knife?” Deirdre blinked. Beside it, was a large bundle of grapes, cheap and made of cloth, holding two knives. And beside that, an apple covered in blood. Coincidentally, the apple didn’t have a knife. Though that was probably because it had sharp teeth along its center, with painted eyes above. These fruits were not like the juicy, glossy kind that littered her cart. They were big, made of fabric, with arms and legs but no hands and feet. They clutched the knives clumsily, as if their sleeves were made of wire that wrapped around the handle. Each had a black, cloth hole, and nothing staring out of it. “Looks like someone’s having a fun costume party, or they were going to,” she smiled at the woman, trying to offer another grin at the man who limped away. The apple leaned down, lapping at his trail of blood with a felt tongue. Deirdre plucked her own apple out of her cart, and threw it at the corresponding fruit costume. The carnivorous apple crumpled under the weight, though the other two fruits began their slow march towards them. “Now is the point,” she nudged the woman, “that I think we run.”

It was the fruit flying close to her ear and hitting the apple costume that pulled Nicole out of her state of shock. Now they were real targets. “You think!?” she dropped the items she had in her hands, and hurried the woman down the aisle, ready to run for her life. She felt no obligation to stick with her, but as long as they were in the same area she assumed there was an unspoken deal between them. Such as, don’t feed the other to the flesh-eating apple, and the like. She hoped the stranger wasn’t considering her as bait, at least. Thankfully the fruits were slow, they would be able to lose them soon enough. It wasn’t so bad. Reaching the end of the aisle, she was ready to turn around the corner, when she almost crashed against another costume. As if the situation didn’t feel surreal enough, a giant, six foot operation game stood before them. Except there was no board, just the big cartoon body seemingly made out of foam, with holes where the plastic organs were meant to be. Tweezers connected by a wire to his shoulder. She saw the tweezers rise in the air, before surging forward and stabbing another running customer.

She grimaced, eyes closing when she heard the tweezers pull something out of his body, splattering sounds against the floor. “Fuck that! Back up— back up!” Nicole shouted, though she knew the other woman didn't need to be told. They were trapped between two murderous options, and they had to pick one escape route. Looking at shelves on her side, she held onto a mop stick, ready to use it as defense. Had she had more time, she would’ve wondered why the cleaning items were in the aisle in front of the tomato sauce. They had more important things to deal with than terrible store organization, however. She was ready to swing. All they had to do was dodge one of the costumes looking for blood, and they’d be out of the way. Easy. Unless they were to encounter killer vegetables on the other side. “Killer fruits...” she panted, looking from one end of the other, weighing her options, “or real life... operation game?” chest heaving, she turned to the woman for opinions.

Deirdre liked running. It was therapeutic, in a way. Running for the chance to not lose a limb was a little less therapeutic. “So you come here often or…?” But regardless, she grinned as though she was having fun. In a way, she was. Getting stabbed didn’t sound great to her, but watching someone else get stabbed was always a fun time. And, really, though she was trying to be more considerate of the humans...it wasn’t like she was the one stabbing them. Not this time, at least. “Oh, I don’t know,” she smiled, head turned to the side, “I think that one’s kind of cute.” She wasn familiar with what it was, exactly, but watching it pluck the heart out of some unsuspecting person and try to stuff it into its own cartoon-heart-hole, stirred some fondness. And then it started moving towards them. Deirdre glanced back, noticing the fruit were still wobbling their way, even the apple had stood up now. As it always was with these cases, she could just scream, but where would be the fun in that? “Well considering you have a stick, and I am, for some reason, carrying tomato sauce that I don’t even remember picking up, I think we could make a very strange pasta right now.” She looked back at the woman, waiting for her to laugh. “Okay, fine,” she huffed, snapping her attention between the two groups. Fruits and...what did the woman call it? Operation? “The fruits are fabric, and clearly they can just be pushed over. So that sounds boring. But that--” She turned to the board. “Looks like fun. So I’m going that way.” She threw her tomato sauce bottle at it, watching it bounce off harmlessly. “See! Fun!” And she could’ve used any of the knives she had hidden on her person, but that felt like cheating, in some way. And so she grabbed a plunger and a toilet brush (she liked the thematic bond between the two makeshift weapons). And with a grin, wide and impish, she charged and slid under and around the ‘Operation’--fearless and foolish in equal measure. “Well? Are you coming?”

The woman was not taking the situation seriously at all, Nicole soon realized. The thought that it could all be a prank crossed her mind. Surely, any normal person would be freaking out in her shoes. Or maybe, that was just the way she dealt with stress. Who was she to judge? “Cute” she repeated in a deadpan. “Don’t think buddy over there thinks getting their organs ripped away is very cute” she looked down at him. She should offer help, right? “That’s not even the good kind...what are you doing?” she spoke with urgency, nodding at the bottle in her hand. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t find the humor in the woman’s joke. “Don’t you think we have better chances of— you know...living with boring?” she gestured vigorously at them. They had barely moved a couple feet since she had last looked. God they were fucking slow, why was she even scared? The stabbing motions from the banana still looked threatening, though. Right, the knives. Eyes widened, she watched the woman throw her tomato sauce at the costume. Was she mad? She was mad. Did she have a death wish? Most definitely. “Are you out of your mind?”.

Nicole refrained from cheering on the woman when she ran at the operation game. She didn’t want her to think that her actions had been in any way responsible. That move had been very impressive though, she had to give her that. Was she coming? She looked behind, at the stupid wobbling fruits. It would be so easy. To swing the stick at the apple and run for her life. But then — her stomach sank at the realization— the exit would be much easier to reach if she took the game route. Just then, she remembered she was faster than most. Right. Except, she couldn’t do it in front of the stranger. She was useless. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. She decided to run straight at him, squeezing herself through the space between the costume and the shelve in the last second. Not as spectacular, but she got the job done. On the other side, she almost crashed against the woman again and, without waiting, she tugged at her wrist, pulling her to run. “C’mon”. The game followed behind, its giant tweezer stabbing aimlessly in the air.

“Actually, as a life actuary, I can tell you that boring has no factor on lifespan.” Deirdre grinned. That wasn’t true, risky behaviours were understandably a factor against life expectancy. But she wasn’t so attached to upholding truth, or the respectability of her job. She’d rather this woman do something fun, and wild and….not squeeze herself around the Operation. “Fates, you’re so boring…” she grumbled, mad at the display. She continued to complain about it as they ran. “I mean, what was that? You couldn’t have done a roll? Or a cool shimmy? You’re clearly fit—“ she gestured to the woman’s body. “—I know you can do a roll, at least.” But there was one way to manufacture interesting displays. She grew quiet, plan brewing in her head. The exit was close, yes, but Deirdre had other ideas for them. A smirk flickered across her face before she slunk back and tripped. “Ahhh!” She yelled, realizing that her acting skills were pretty abysmal. “My ankle is—I think I sprained it! Curse me for running in heels!” Her ankle was completely fine, and she’d ran in worse footwear plenty of times. But the game hobbled closer and closer to her, tweezers snapping in the air like claws. Behind it, the gang of murderous fruit approached. “Help me, strange, boring woman!” She looked back at her newest ‘friend’, pleading at her with her eyes. If she wasn’t going to be fun, Deirdre would make her.

“The fuck is a—” had they not been pressed by the situation, Nicole would’ve finished her question. No, really. What was a life actuary? A made up profession, surely, if she was to go by the woman’s inability to take things seriously. It all had to be a prank. And she was obviously part of it, right? She did turn a round for a moment, in a desperate search for cameras. Otherwise, who could be so terrifyingly calm in the face of danger? Her steps almost halted when she heard the woman’s words. Boring? She wasn’t technically lying, but the statement didn’t hold any truth at the moment. Was there a more entertaining way of escaping? She scoffed. “Right, sorry I wasn’t showy enough for you. Maybe if we actually... make it out of this alive— I’ll think about body rolls and… and shimmies. No me jodas”. She tripped over a pile of cereal boxes on the floor, a second later she heard the woman yelling behind her. Nicole’s head whipped in her direction, the initial concern vanishing as soon as she saw no signs of pain in her face. Confused, she stood there, wide eyes demanding an explanation. “What the fuck are you doing? Get up!” she hissed, kneeling next to her.

Behind them, the tweezers snapped again as the Operation man held onto another organ, stuffing it in a different empty hole. Nicole swallowed. She could pick the woman up. Throw her over her shoulder. Easy. Out of spite, because she had been nothing but an inconvenience. But also, because she didn’t want her to have no organs, if she was being honest. Her eyes sized her up. How heavy could she be, really? Would that be too humiliating? Being eaten by a useless wobbling apple sounded more humiliating. Why did she care about any of that when the stranger clearly didn’t? She could leave her behind. Yes, she wanted to. The possibility was faint, but intrusive. She wouldn’t allow herself to consider it. “Swear to god if you don’t—” grabbing the toilet brush that fell from her hands, she threw it at the naked foam suit before turning to the woman again. “What. Do you want. From me” she demanded through clenched teeth.

“I. Want. Something. Fun.” Deirdre’s Cheshire-like grin only grew as time ticked between them. She leaned closer, putting her face against the woman’s boundaries of personal space. Her game of pretending to be injured was too transparent, but it didn’t matter so much. She’d have her entertainment one way or another. “You’re not going to die here, love. So why don’t you have a little fun?” And if she was, well, then at least Deirdre would get a real show. “Don’t you want to surprise me?” She blinked, batting her eyelashes. She wasn’t sure how effective her pouting would be, but she tried it anyway. “And anyway, I’m too hurt to move…” Her voice dripped saccharine, and she twisted her body like the damsel she wasn’t, revealing an ankle that didn’t have a scratch on it. Beyond them, the Operation board snapped its tweezers again. At some point, one of them would have to win: Deirdre’s desire for mischief, the woman’s boringness, or the strange costume’s hunger for organs. “Maybe you can fight the costume?” She offered the idea, “or burn the store down or ooh--sacrifice someone to it!” She lit up with imagination. “Come on,” she implored the woman, “you’d help a beautiful injured woman, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re out of your fucking mind” Nicole inched closer, too frustrated to feel uncomfortable over personal boundaries. She shook her head, wanting to say no but all she managed was incoherent mumbling. She was speechless. No, she didn't want to surprise her, she wanted to go home. She blinked away the tears of frustration in her eyes. It was clear that she wouldn’t win an argument against the woman. Her eyes flicked to the ankle, anger bubbling up. She was lying. For some reason she was lying about her sprained ankle to delay their escape, why? She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do it. She had stopped thinking at all, it seemed. But something the woman had said lingered on her mind. She could fight it. Stupid? Sure, but at this point she was out of ideas. She wasn’t afraid of dying, but she would’ve hated to do it while pissed at a complete stranger. Furious eyes glanced at the woman one last time before she stood, facing the costume. She swung the stick she still held in her hand, breaking in half as it hit the operation man.

Nicole’s eyes widened. How was that possible? Foam wasn’t tougher than plastic. What kind of deficient products was the store selling? The costume stumbled slightly to the side, not enough to topple over. She stared at the broken piece in her hand, then down to the woman who had been watching it all unfold. Yeah, that was it. She discarded her stick, rushing to the woman’s side again. “You wanted fun, right?” She nodded, waiting for any twitch of her face as confirmation, before lifting the woman off the ground without any warning. And no— carrying her in her arms felt too personal, she decided. She did not want to see her annoying face any longer. Her arm hooked behind the woman’s knees, the other securing her back and with all the strength she could muster, she put her on her shoulder. A small, rational thought in the back of her mind, worried about her display not being human enough. Fuck it. She could say she exercised. “Shit—” she grunted at the effort. Her initial idea had been fun, especially to get back at the woman. But she really hadn’t thought it through. For one, she would be dealing with the woman’s resistance, and for the other, she had overestimated how wide her frame was to carry another adult. Whatever, she’d deal with the neck pain later, the exit was her goal. “This view’s more entertaining for you, no?”

Deirdre couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face at the promise of a fight. She saw the woman get ready and swing and...break her weapon. She blinked. And then burst into laughter. “Did you see that? You should have seen the look on your face!” She was distracted now, playing the scene back again in her head. The seriousness in which the woman attacked, the sound of the plastic snapping, the awkward tumbling of the costume. She loved it. She loved it so much, in fact, that she hadn’t been prepared for the woman to lift her up and, as if she were a sheet, throw her over her shoulder. “Hey!” She wiggled, surprised at the woman’s grip. Some humans were stronger than they looked, she guessed. “Hey! You can’t carry me! I have standards!” Which typically amounted to only letting her girlfriend carry her whilst in the privacy of their own house. Being carried always made her feel like a child...and she hated feeling like a child. Then again— “No, you’re right, the view is good.” She said, looking down. “I could play your ass cheeks like bongos right now, which I have half a mind to because you’re carrying me!” She wriggled again, careful not to be too good at it, lest the woman throw her aside and she ended up with a real twisted ankle. The Halloween season was important to her, and she couldn’t let it be spoiled with an injury. “You suck,” she said, giving up on her resistance. “And I don’t even want to play your ass like a drum anymore. That’s how much you suck.” She crossed her arms petulantly, waiting for the night to be over.

Navigating through the chaotic store aisles with a woman on her shoulder proved to be one of the hardest things Nicole had ever done. People were still running amok to escape from the murderous costumes. Between the screaming, the shoving, and the bumping into each other, she didn’t miss the fact that people were also actively running in the direction of danger. It seemed the woman over her shoulder wasn’t alone in her insanity. She scoffed at the mention of standards, making sure to slowly turn around the corner so the woman didn’t hit her head while she kept wriggling for freedom. Oh, so she wasn’t worthy of carrying someone like her? What standards could she possibly have? All she had was a worrying lack of common sense and shitty taste in tomato sauce, she had no room to talk about anything. She gritted her teeth, partly from the fatigue, but mostly to stop herself from blurting out something hurtful. The woman was probably incapable of feeling hurt, anyway. The costumes began to distance, as one turn of her head confirmed. They really were pathetically slow. The exit was close. She’d never have to see the woman in her life again. “Wha—” her brain stopped working for a moment when the woman spoke, her grip slipped. Apparently she wasn't too busy to blush from the embarrassment.

In hindsight, Nicole would have preferred to be stabbed by the banana costume than to hear the woman compare body parts to musical instruments. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could drop her, go back, and plead the fruits to off her. Whatever worked to unhear those words. She didn't know what to say. “What the fuck” she was all she whispered, to preserve her energy. Crossing the store’s exit came with a wave of relief that made her almost drop the woman right there. Her knees wobbled, but continued until she was far enough from the crowded exit. “Yeah—” she panted, failing to lean against the wall before unceremoniously letting go of her. “Well, you suck too, ‘least we agree on that” she snarled, feeling unusually defiant. So childish. She winced, ribs burning and legs shaky as she leaned against the wall. She shot the woman a cautious look, almost expecting her to run back for more fun. “Please don’t go inside again” she was tempted to grab her wrist to stop her, but she’d had enough of touching strangers for the rest of her life.

Deirdre frowned, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t command me, human.” Which was her affectionate way of saying that she just might go inside, there was more death sure to happen, and she wanted to watch. Not that this lady would understand, Deirdre wouldn’t be surprised if she had a night of watching the news and then sleeping planned. She struck Deirdre as just that boring. Boring enough to, with great probability, stop her from going back inside. Deirdre grumbled. “Fine!” She threw her hands up, crossing them again as she brandished a pout at the stranger. “Fine. I won’t go back inside.” From the store, bloody humans stumbled out, screaming and shivering. Beyond them, the shrill sound of sirens cut the night air. This situation would be dealt with, boringly, by boring people. Deirdre turned to the stranger, whom she ought to thank but never would. “I guess….I’ll see you around, bongo-ass?” Deirdre waved, the scene turned from the dark of night to the flashing blue-red of police. She didn’t want to be around. She patted the woman’s shoulder—as close of a thank you as she’d ever get—and turned and ran.

The night yielded less fun than she wanted, and the costumes were gaudy if anything, but perhaps, above all, Deirdre had gotten something far more special: someone to annoy.

#wickedswriting #c: nicole #murder on aisle 5 #shouts out to mary for being the best ever #and to nicole for being the most fun. don't listen to deirdre :/

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senjuushi · 4 years

Note

General headcanons for the new gun boys?

OwO I’ve had this ask waiting for a while, but.... here we go! Time for a little infodump of things I’ve thought of~ There are only a few that I can say are “general”, but I’ll try to go into detail!

Marks

• I... don’t have too many headcanons for him yet, aside from the fact that I’ll forever be calling this cutie “abuse bait”. So instead of a headcanon, y’all get a bit of character analysis. Marks is the only one of the moderns to have “Master” in his likes section. Even freaking Mauser doesn’t have “Ashley” there. This implies a level of attachment from this boy that’s both terrifying and so, so sweet. Marks is baby. He’s a good, good boy, and that trust and open adoration he has makes it so easy to abuse him... He really is abuse bait...

• But to try for a headcanon, well, here’s a simple one. Marks would do anything to please his Master. He’s a pushover. If he was attached enough to them (which he obviously is), they could tell him to lick their shoes and he’d barely hesitate. Master is his world, and all he wants is for them to be happy, so with a little convincing and manipulating... what does a good gun like Marks need with things like pride? His line about ‘wanting to be used by his Master’s hand” also makes me think that he’d seriously crave physical intimacy, which would be yet another manipulation point for him.

Like Two

• Despite his more abrasive nature and apparent dislike for his brothers, Like Two is a lot more like his equally-pink counterpart than either of them really want to think about. This is pretty obvious with the whole “muscle/strength training” thing that the two of them seem to be fond of, but it goes much deeper. Like Two tries to seem like he’s a tough, capable weapon who will tell anyone who tries to baby or look down on him to fuck off...

But the reality is that he has the same streak for wanting to be spoiled. And the same feminine tendencies. To put it simply, if you whispered in his ear that he’s your precious little princess, Like Two would blush and melt just the same as LIke2 would... he’d just be a lot more angry about it. And a lot more intent on trying to deny that his face is crimson and he can barely talk properly.

Arisaka

• I’ve said this one before, but his childlike body is the result of both trauma and the gun equivalent of failure to thrive. Arisaka is a Japanese gun who was used in WW2... he’s seen some shit. Not good stuff. And those things kind of fucked him up. I mean, we all can see how dead inside he looks. Just imagine how much trauma is lurking beneath the surface of those empty eyes.

Another point in favor of this is that, almost without fail, gun size corresponds to physical maturity in the boys. Smaller guns usually look more like children, while larger guns are more adult-like. Arisaka is the only one that I can think of who has a large gun but still looks so youthful. Between that and his extremely disturbing history, I headcanon that his human body is between 18-20 years old... just extremely stunted. He’s short, scrawny, and immature-looking because he was so traumatized as a weapon that he, like human children who suffer extreme circumstances, couldn’t grow and mature properly.

Herme

• My prevailing headcanon for Herme is that he has some serious identity issues. Namely, in his profile... he talks about how he and the other gun boys are exactly that-- guns. They’re made of metal, and there’s no need to treat them like humans. This clearly shows a disconnect between his human self and his existence as a weapon, but it also clashes with how he talks about his life’s history and family in much the same way that a human would. The way I see it, he’s got some strong conflict between a deeply-rooted view that he’s nothing but a gun and the innate humanity that he clearly can’t fully suppress.

• I’m probably going to have to fight canon on this one, but because of Herme’s polite, respectable, useful personality and his issues with seeing himself as anything but a tool, I’m firmly believing that he’s very submissive to his Master. Anyone who’s not Master? They get a capable, arrogant man who won’t hesitate to put those beneath him in his place. His Master? (Or perhaps even humans in general?) They get a polite, respectful, obedient tool who fulfills every order to the best of his ability-- no matter if it hurts him. There’s a war in this man between being a weapon and his own ego, and the side of him that knows to be good is winning.

Springfield

• It’s barely even a headcanon at this point, but I see him as very physically weak and fragile. This covers the obvious (frail health, weak body, constant fatigue and bouts of illness), of course, but it also extends to other things. To give a ridiculously specific example, I see this Springy as having very, very sensitive skin. As in, he bruises easily and badly, it's easy to break his skin, even light scratches leave temporary marks, and he's overall very sensitive to touch. There’s also the possibility that he has scarring/damage to his human body because of what we can see on his gun... and those areas might be even more delicate than the rest of him.

• Another one that I’ll probably have to fight canon over, but I strongly doubt that other moderns would like him very well. He’s not a real modern gun. He’s just an antique who’s trying too hard. He’s weak and useless anyway, so it would be an embarrassment to even consider him to be one. Those things would be in Springfield’s head at the very least... and it’s likely that some of them would have been used against him too.

Siegblut

• Honestly, most of what I’m getting from him so far is that the core of his personality is overcompensation. I mean, the whore has big shoes to fill. He’s Herme’s successor. That’s a lot to live up to. Siegblut (ha, I used his actual name for once) probably has a ton of issues when it comes to wanting to be something he’s not. So what if his whole deal is being good enough? It would explain why he’s trying so hard to look like a tough guy.

• And on that note... he’s a fucking housewife. I will take no argument. And I’m not sure if he hides that kind of thing yet... but just imagine how cute it would be to tease him over how domestic he can be. Maybe if he likes homemaking so much, you should just take him off the battlefield and make him your wife, hm? It might suit him better than trying to live up to Herme like he has been for so long. He’s just way too easy to bully lmao.

#Marks #Like Two #Arisaka #Herme #Springfield #Siegblut #Headcanon

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ardenssolis · 3 years

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@swordrisen said (inbox):

She had won once , 'pon the day she left him speechless with fake exclaims of devoting her ' love ' to him. Yet , that one win was not enough. No , she needed at least one more to make him know the last was not a fluke ( really , she needed to convince herself it was not a fluke. ) Yet , 'pon the arrival of his words , cheeks shift all the more deeper ( daring to rival the brightest red bloom. ) Lightly does she chew , at the inside of her mouth ( embarrassment festering into self. ) But , she must win ! ❛❛ Is that so , Oz - mochi ? ❜❜ A trembling step forth , carried by embarrassment & the unyielding will. ❛❛ Do you perhaps believe I'm worthy to mark that skin of yours ? After all , you have never hit me for doing so. You have raised your voice but never threw me & I know you could do that. You've even bit me back , twice now. ❜❜

Finger tips slowly crawl upward for his ear , cupping it with gentle strength & running her thumb across the bite ; with her empty palm she grasps her own ear , where the indent of his teeth remain. Then she slowly shifts her fingers down against the bite she left 'pon his neck. ❛❛ What do you think they will think when we walk back into the public eye like this ? That the Pharaoh has tainted himself with . . . with . . . ❜❜ Her face begins to blossom in shades again ; she needs to calm herself , steel herself to win ! ❛❛ M - Me ! A peasant girl ! How the people will talk ! ❜❜ She practically squeaks out , whole body trembling in embarrassment yet , she meets their gazes ( unrelenting. ) [ KOTO HATES LOSING SO SHE KEEPS TRYING & TRYING ASDCFGHJNHVCFGHBGVF & FAILING I'M CRYING remember when they were soft chaotic now it's just chaos ]

❝I ALLOWED YOU TO be in my presence each day, so naturally you should know the answer, Koto.❞ Truly he was not a difficult man to understand (in his most humble opinion). If he disliked the other or found her to be dull, he would have waved his hand, brushing Koto aside the same way he did anything that was no longer of interest. That and he was no doubt fond of this vulgar, barbaric woman who could enter a bar and loudly proclaim that she would arm wrestle everyone there. She was certainly different from the women he knew growing up, but it was not as if he had been exposed to a wide variety of people. Servants, nobles, merchants, guards and soldiers – these were about the only groups that he ever really did business with. Even other rulers were handled with mere correspondence rather than meetings where both could see each other’s faces and speak on equal terms, for there were no equal terms between a pharaoh and any other a king.

Ozymandias was absolute.

A brow rose just slightly when her fingers danced across his ear, fingers drifting along the mark that was left by those sharp teeth. Koto sure was relentless, wasn’t she? There was nothing wrong with that kind of determination even if it was misplaced when he was involved. ❝Then they can talk. I can do whatever I want.❞ It was an easy statement, one that needed very little in terms of embellishment. Let the people talk. Ozymandias could easily silence them if he so wished, but in reality, he wouldn’t. Talk was just talk, after all. As long as disrespect was not tossed his way, he was fine with whatever mumblings took place around him. Koto, on the other hand, was akin to a blushing maiden with anything outside of what she was familiar with, and thus, she was the one who was going to want to spontaneously combust. ❝Who I deem worthy of my time is hardly anyone’s concern to begin with. So,❞ he continued, hand lifting to rest upon Koto's cheek, usual haughty smirk present upon his lips, ❝you need not be so concerned over my well-being.❞

Silly Koto.

#[SILLY KOTO]#swordrisen #;swordrisen : koto #;v: chaldea days #;;f.go #answered #;;inbox

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clementine-lominsan · 3 years

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Why I am not a liberal

12/26/2015

“In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.

The first is freedom of speech and expression—everywhere in the world.

The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way—everywhere in the world.

The third is freedom from want—which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants—everywhere in the world.

The fourth is freedom from fear—which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor—anywhere in the world.”

– Franklin D. Roosevelt

Madame de Stäel once said, “In Frace, freedom is classical and tyranny is modern.” Nowadays, speaking of freedom, most people would think of “civil liberty” and “political freedom”, and so many “public rights”. But in the feudal era of medieval Europe, political freedom meant private property rights, and, civil liberty and political freedom were the two sides of a coin: private rights dominated so there was no such thing as an independent “public right”. The so-called “freedom”, originated from consequences of evolution – traditions such as property, contract, inheritance, and family. Inside privileged organizations which had been formed spontaneously like feudal nobility, urban and rural communities, and commercial guilds, people were free. Thus, the freedom of the communities ensured the decentralization of power into local institutions. As a result, ‘state’ was reduced to the level of an external form.

This old order was not out of human design, but a result of the spontaneous evolution of civilization. At that time, “freedom” was a historic practice, but not an ideology from theory innovations. In such an order, freedom was but one significant feature and was not this order per se. To maintain such an order, responsibilities must be undertaken and duties must be fulfilled. Those who only enjoy the euphoria of absolute power and interest would never achieve it. It is precisely this spontaneous order that gave birth to an ideology named liberalism. However, ideology is not reality and liberalism is not liberty. The liberty of the liberal era was not brought by liberals, but ruined by such intellectuals who loved talking about ‘-ism’, and had a fetish about Enlightenment and equal rights. The advocacy of Enlightened despotism by the founding fathers of liberalism, i.e. Physiocrats, was one of the most ironic examples of them.

In modern times, many liberals are fond of talking about ‘left liberalism’ and ‘right liberalism’, but the dichotomy of left vs. right came from France, which facilitates the disintegration of community and creates divergence and chaos. Before the bloody French Revolution, different political parties had not had differences as large as today. Under such a discourse system of left and right, many metaphysical ideologies which are neither verifiable nor falsifiable preceded practical interests, which resulted in the dominance of intellectuals who are good at constructive rationalism, undermining the restrictions traditions impose upon power. Paul Johnson once said, “In a French-style pseudodemocracy, intellectuals have considerable influence, at both government and street levels. In a true democracy, intellectuals are no more powerful than their arguments.”

In the theory innovations of such intellectuals who are obsessed by the idea of Enlightening – although it is nothing but cheap sedition and expensive indoctrination – the masses, the following pseudoconcepts are popularized: social democracy, social market, social contract, social justice, social freedom and even – socialism. “Society”, as an imaginary entity which had been nonexistent in the feudal Europe, was created and inserted between state and individuals, to replace the localized old forms of community. The collectivist tendency, I am afraid, is not difficult to see: to love the diversity of moral standards and the behavior under the guidance of them, but to hate the diversity of the consequences of human actions – especially the diversity of incomes, the whole “society” became the aquarium and zoo of the chattering class! Among them, social freedom and “social liberalism”, I am afraid, are the most fashionable Zeitgeist. They love equal right but hate equal duty: happiness precedes responsibility, and euphoria precedes wisdom. In this manner, their view on power is also quite interesting: they enjoy the authority and euphoria of being a leader, but refuse to fulfill corresponding duties, and, moral melodramas are more paramount than practical concerns for them. Even when they are proven wrong by hard evidence, they will try to evade with verbal virtuosity and even to wield power to mute dissidents. It seems to them, the title “the leader of the free world” brings them more euphoria than freedom per se. The fact that the difference between social liberals and liberal socialists is almost as trivial as that between social democrats and democratic socialists, I am afraid, is no coincidence.

Freedom, in their narrative, changed its meaning long ago. From “equality before the law” to “equal opportunity”, to “equal outcome”, eventually to “equal beginning, path and outcome” in “left liberalism”, no matter how much they claimed to be disciples of “liberalism”, their behavior has been undermining the foundation of liberty – private property. Of course, among the many branches of socialism, the tyrannical machinery of Leninism is dystopian and repulsive. But returning to the fascist model of big corporations, big unions and big government, i.e. the alleged “social democracy” is actually “the end of history” which liberals should applaud? On one hand, the real private property rights are infringed upon by such “modern” constructs like fractional reserve banking. On the other hand, imaginary “rights” – such as basic income and intellectual property right – are created to make way for the expansion of bureaucracy. What a wonderful “end of history”!

Among liberals, many not only believe the source of morality is relative but also believe the consequence of following it is also relative, or more directly, neglect such consequences: you can find liberals “helping” sodomites and libertines complain about the insufficient “social” investment on the control and prevention of venereal diseases making the loss of “artists” and “philosophers”, or “helping” dopehead liberals complain about the insufficient “social” investment on dental problems making them losing teeth, and of course, destigmatizing such “disadvantaged” and “marginalized” “communities”! “Spontaneous” becomes “to rid the minds of the younger generations of the prejudice of the older generations”, and “order” becomes “chaos”. A “society” full of alcoholism, drug abuse, promiscuity and sodomy is probably the stable and ordered utopia in the eyes of such liberals?

Furthermore, all those who promote “freedom from religions” criticize and mock western churches and religions with a near-revolution attitude, and even do not hesitate to fabricate outright lies to serve their own “liberal” political agenda, except that an immediate consequence of it, is to facilitate ordinary citizens’ conversion to Islamism and communism. The critical thinking of skepticism becomes uncritical negativism for these “liberals”. However, they follow atheism “religulously” – and maybe Mother Gaia believed by green supremacists (the so-called “environmentalists”)? Freedom is a crucial characteristic of European feudal traditions, and religion is the carrier of such beneficial traditions which was formed spontaneously in the process of civilization evolution, albeit it may be a collection of pure ideals in the beginning. The belief that being irreligious is a tautology of being antitheist, I am afraid, is the kind of stereotype that all those who claim to be skeptic must strongly oppose. Although the omniscient and omnipotent “God” is neither verifiable nor falsifiable, yet if following certain religious doctrines – namely, certain traditional moral standards – results in happiness, I am afraid, for “the not-so-well-educated masses that do not have time, capacity or interest in ‘deep thinking’” (by the way, it is the most favored preoccupations of the self-anointed intellectual liberals), to be religious is not necessarily such a horrible thing as many “liberals” suggest. By contrast, history tells us, it was exactly some of those liberal zealots who believed in the abstract ideological concept of freedom made way for the volcano eruption of the revolutions of Islamism and communism to destroy the thin crust we call “civilization”. If one genuinely respects the scientific attitude, then he should check his own ideology with corresponding historic consequences, instead of neglecting and even distorting facts. Unfortunately, so many “liberals” like discarding the wisdom enduring the ruthless tests of time and disposing of valuable traditions but keep on trying new ideas without checking the consequences. Even when someone points out the problem, they never admit it but always stubbornly force “society” – that is, other people – to pay for their reckless “change” guided by their own “free will”. They utilize eloquence to gain favor from the masses and to oppress others’ individual independent dissent. In such attempts of “improving” freedom, they invite the bloody rebirth of war and tyranny, like they did in late 19th and early 20th centuries. How come the abstract “liberalism” became so enchanting? It is nothing else than the delusion that man could get rid of the constraints reality imposes upon us. For those who want to fly without wings, seemingly, the disappearance of gravity is an attractive idea. However, without gravity, one can indeed fly, but the atmosphere will disappear too, so the atmospheric pressure will become zero, the blood in his veins and arteries will boil…perhaps death is the only consequence.

Nowadays, there are many Wilsonians deemed “neoconsevatives” who also praise “freedom” and “free world”. Self-determination sounds indeed like the necessary conclusion of “national freedom” – a kind of “collective freedom”: relying on the Roman Republic of our times, i.e. USA, to export spontaneous order (“freedom”), using collective security to ensure the independence of the weak nation-states which were created from the thin air, defeating the evil totalitarian empires, and morphing the free world. So what about reality? In the Golden Time of Wilsonianism, Europe was filled with bloody conflicts and violence. WWI was caused by the rise of liberal nationalism originated from France, and WWII and the Cold War were caused by the tragic death of the Habsburg Empire. Even the ongoing substitutions of population and religion in Europe, is also the natural bust of the soap bubbles called nation-states which lack the immunity to resist alien cultures. In the decolonized Third World, there is hardly any Golden Time of nation-states: it is full of all kinds of totalitarian despots. The medicine we call “Wilsonianism”, for them, is just like using Penicillin to treat patients troubled by mood disorders but actually allergic to Penicillin. In fact, there are no “successful” and “unsuccessful” nation-states, but only nation-states that are already bankrupt or are on the way of bankruptcy. The so-called “democratic and secular nation-state with universal suffrage”, is not a new era of history or “the end of history”, but the last radiance of the setting sun of civilization. Relying on Rome to export the order of freedom is no different from transporting ice-cream in a desert: most of it is evaporated on the way. At large, this kind of “liberalism” is actually reducing the degree of freedom, just like redistributing wealth is reducing wealth.

Why am I not a liberal? (Hayek once wrote an article, “Why I am not a conservative”) Because I admire the luxuriant giant tree with the name of civilization, including its roots. So many liberals are so obsessed by the sweet fruits of the tree that they totally ignore the other parts, and even do not hesitate to damage the roots for more fruits. Ironically, they often consider themselves to be THE roots, albeit in fact they are nothing but a bunch of parasites.

#oldblog

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