#i can imagine as someone [hired] to protect them . from the start its going to feel like your fault. youre a failure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigskydreaming · 2 months

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wouriqueen

Unhelpful answer : I don't have one, because in general I really struggle to ever get them to that point where they feel fleshed out. I can imagine their entire life, but personality wise they always seem flat to me. So let me rudely turn the question around 😅: do you have one advice to change that ?

One? No. That would require brevity and I don't do that. Can't stand the stuff. I simply do not partake. Buuuuuut if you're in the market for a gratuitously long and involved post about my process in general, for you to mine for any useful ideas as needed but mostly just existing to satisfy my vaguely defined plans for doing a post about all this at some point anyway and co-opting this as an opportunity to get that off my plate and go yeah this totally counts, one hundred percent what I was intending all along, go me - well then......I totally wrote this JUST for you and am obviously not lying for effect haha who would even do that.

Okay! So.

Hmm. Where to start. Right, so this is totally just my own made-up approach, roughly generalizing how I've honed and streamlined my own creating process over the years. So adapt as needed, don't take it as anything other than a starting point to figuring out something that works best for you. I call it my Three Pronged Approach and I use it for both character creation and worldbuilding. It somewhat comes into play in developing plots but in a different way that doesn't quite match what I'm getting into here, so focusing just on the first two. Actually, we're really just focusing on character, so assume the Three Pronged part applies to the worldbuilding as well (once we get to it) but for purposes of mapping this out, we're starting at a point where the worldbuilding has largely already been done.

It'll take a bit to get to the actual character/personality development part, but I'm not used to actually detailing the process to someone else, or breaking down any specific part of it, let alone outside my own head, so the most cohesive way for me to run through it all mentally is to just lay things out from start to finish, as generalized as possible.

So like I said in that other post, personally speaking, I tend to prioritize character over plot in my approach to writing a story. I almost always start with a setting, with worldbuilding being my initial creation stage and go-to for projects before figuring out a story that suits that setting. Basically for me its the equivalent of mapping out the landscape and laying it down as a base to build upon. For our purposes here, I'm gonna use one of my established settings - you've seen my posts about my Changelings 'verse over the years, so I'm just gonna use that here, since various worldbuilding posts about it are easily referenced here and in my #changelings' verse tag.

Once I have the world I want to work in, which acts as both the foundation and the frame for everything that follows, I figure out my basic premise. What I want to write about happening within that world, in basic logline terms.

I personally do not consider coming up with my premise the same thing as coming up with a plot.....there are ten different plots you could go with for any underlying premise like Character X plots revenge after being left for dead or Character B is hired to Protect Character C from an unknown threat, etc, etc. I consider the premise to just be a snapshot of the big picture as it looks when zoomed out to the nth degree, more just about picking a genre, an overall goal and an obstacle to reaching that - but again, each only conceptualized in the vaguest of ways at this point.

Then, picking a spot somewhere in the setting, within the frame of the chosen world, I 'pencil in' the faceless, practically shapeless figure of the first character denoted in the premise, like sketching out the roughest rendering of them, no details to them whatsoever. And then if there are any others mentioned or alluded to within the premise - with only characters referenced in the premise being absolutely essential to the story at that point - I add the written/brainstorming equivalent of a rough sketch of these other characters and place them somewhere in the background contained within the frame....each in positions relative to the first one, as described by my basic premise.

So the world I'm working in is my Changelings 'Verse, and for a specific setting I'm going with Bordertown, as described in the reference posts above. Let's say for my premise I go with "Character B is hired to Protect Character C from an unknown threat," and so my main character at this point is Character B. They're the first one I put in frame. I add in Character C somewhere behind them, however that's best visualized conceptually, and then on the other side of Character C opposite where I positioned Character B, I just....sketch in some rough, cross-hatched lines denoting some threat to Character C that Character B is standing between.

Conceptually, I visualize this area being big enough that this shading COULD obscure another character, but keep the overall shaded area formless enough that it could just as easily be obscuring some depiction or representation of a threat not embodied by a single character, or even a character at all. At this point, I probably don't even know myself. I don't need to.

Finally, I add in one last figure, even more lightly sketched into frame than the others, because I suspect their position might shift at some point as overall story and character details become more defined....for now, let's imagine this last figure placed in the background as though looming over both Characters B and C. This is Character A, not specifically mentioned in the premise but alluded to and essential to the story even at this stage....because the premise implies that someone had to hire Character B and give them the mandate to protect Character C from the threat.

Granted, this could end up being an organization or multiple people rather than just one character, but we're going with Character A for now even if they just end up the point man or spokesperson for a larger group later in the plotting stages....the point is, even without knowing if the threat is a person, persons, or some other force, situation, crisis, natural disaster or more......an individual had to act with agency to move Characters B and C into the initial positions laid out by the premise, so whomever did that has to be an (or include at least one) actual character.

So now we've got our frame (larger world and time period, ie the Changelings 'Verse in the present day), our background (somewhere within Bordertown), our premise with at least three characters central or at the very least necessary to the story, and some undefined threat.

Next, before anything else, I'm picking a theme. Well, more like themes, as this is where the Three Pronged Approach starts to come into play. Basically, the whole idea of the Three Pronged Approach is at any stage of narrative development where you have to pick or settle on specific elements to be added to either a character, the plot, the greater narrative structure, whatever.....never pick just one. Always pick three.

Going with one, IMO, usually ends up resulting in bare-bones plotting and characterization and runs the risk of feeling kinda...paint by numbers. It gives the overall story and characters the elements absolutely essential to advancing the plot and character arcs, but usually not much else. The characters have exactly what character traits they need to level up through each stage of their character arc, even if they don't know it at first, they're given the specific tools they need to advance to each next stage of the plot, and the precise theme fundamental to whatever messaging the story is meant to contain is kept front and center the whole time, because there's nothing else to shift perception to, thematically speaking.

With just one element picked at any given juncture, by extension always being the exact element essential to fulfilling each aspect of the narrative....your story and characters can easily end up feeling hollow and made to order. Existing purely for the purposes of telling this story rather than feeling like characters that exist and a particular story being told about them.

Now, going with two picks for elements added at any juncture you have to fill in and flesh out with specific choices....better than just going with one, but now you run the risk of things feeling made to order or with the Hand of the Author clearly visible throughout because your story is too perfectly balanced.

With two picks at each juncture, more often than not, you're going to end up with a bunch of perfect foils, each element paired with either its ideal complement or most optimal opposition. The characters have exactly what they need to level up in each stage of their arc....but also, whatever trait most easily gets in the way of that, but never in insurmountable ways. They're given whatever tools are needed to progress them through the plot, along with either a perfect red herring meant to distract them from choosing the proper tool first or something intended to break on the first attempt at passing each obstacle, forcing the character to hunt around for the second, actually essential tool needed to unlock the next stage of the plot. The story's larger theme is either paired with something that complements it perfectly as if made (or picked) with that in mind, or positioned perfectly opposite to act as a thematic foil.

Point being....your story now includes more conflict, less of 'and each and every scene is facilitated by having the exact element needed' making the readers feel its all a little too convenient, and your characters are now more detailed, having internal conflicts and obstacles to realizing each stage of their character arc....

But it still can easily fall into the trap of all of these added conflicts and characteristics feeling superficial and not invoking a sense of stakes...because the second choice of element is so often TOO perfectly selected, in the contexts of each initially chosen element.

The point of the Three Pronged Approach is when in doubt, add not one or two but three options whenever new elements need to be introduced....because with three, the third choice acts as a natural wildcard throwing off the perfect positioning or pairing of the other two. With a third point mapped out in conjunction with every pair of character traits, themes, narrative obstacles....its a lot easier to end up with an organic story, plot and characters because that third angle is almost never going to come across as having been introduced specifically TO counterbalance the other two....the three points simply exist and whatever shape is created by triangulating from each point...its not predisposed to being any particular shape a reader is expecting those three points to make.

And yeah, three points CAN make a pattern, and if all three are still chosen with complementing each other in mind, that pattern will stick out and again make things feel visibly scripted - but unlike when selecting two options, with three there's not that default instinct to pick a clear and obvious partner for the others. Its a lot easier and more likely for your three choices to just be three different choices...and then from THERE you can weigh different ways of juxtaposing all three elements or positioning them relative to each other, and wind up with a lot more (and more nuanced) options than two perfectly paired elements could ever generate.

So, getting back to our outline....I've got my frame (World: Changelings 'Verse), my background (Setting: Bordertown, present day), my premise (Character B is hired to protect Character C from an unknown threat) and next I'm picking themes. Specifically, three of them.

I usually make my first pick of theme with my worldbuilding in mind. The final product of my worldbuilding always contains a bunch of different elements picked with the Three Pronged Approach so the world I'm working with usually already lends itself in my mind to specific themes....and for my first pick I usually grab from one of these. With the Changelings 'Verse, my big themes include stuff like having trouble recognizing yourself in the wake of big and unexpected changes, exploitation of minors and living with the aftermath of that, trying to find a place where you fit when there are no spaces designed with you in mind, the inherent trauma of having your intended life trajectory derailed by a dramatic upheaval of your life that there was no way to prepare for or see coming, etc, etc.

Just running through the list of themes associated with my World/Setting, that was already generated during my worldbuilding process.....one jumps out at me immediately, as a natural fit for my premise: exploitation of minors and living with the aftermath of that lends itself perfectly to a threat that needs to be (and CAN be) protected from. The kind of thing someone would feasibly hire a bodyguard to protect someone else from. A thematic complement to the threat demanded by the premise.

So I'm gonna pick that for my first theme, my big picture, broad strokes, overall Setting/World theme. I'll incorporate it throughout the background, build the plot in a way that leads the characters through the Bordertown setting under an overlying, looming awareness of how many others they encounter have all faced that issue or been impacted by it.

Weaving this theme through the overall setting and tying it to the main threat turns each and every encounter Characters B and C have with other characters - that they might see as like them or that they in some way relate to - into a natural opportunity to pair, contrast or juxtapose their own encounters with this theme/threat to the many varied ways these other characters have interacted with this theme or been shaped by it. But at the same time, with this theme built into the setting as an overlying background theme....none of these encounters are strictly ESSENTIAL to reaching the end of the plot, learning specific character lessons or coming to some sort of thematic conclusion. They're just....there, as needed, providing an indeterminate number of ways you can explore this theme via background characters and what the main characters take away from their encounters with those already victimized by an exploitation threat.

And as a result, I'm less likely to run the risk of seeming like I'm going for an after school message with this story, that it exists solely to build to one particularly thematic awareness or conclusion about this theme. It just....exists, throughout the story, as part of the setting itself.

So that's one theme picked. Now let's add another. Since I picked one to complement the WORLDBUILDING itself.....with that specifically being the reason I selected it and the natural association to that theme in my mind....I'm not primed to pick a second theme specifically because of how it would play off of that first theme. And since my first theme is setting-oriented but also pairs naturally with the premise and gives shape to the threat our characters are trying to avoid/defend against....I'm going to pick my second theme with one of the other basic ingredients of the premise in mind.

Specifically, I'm going to pick the next theme in association with Character B themselves. Character B doesn't HAVE to be the main character, even in context of the premise I picked, and in fact I don't even need to have one singular main character and could just as easily make it a dual POV story that trades off chapters between Character B as the primary and Character C as the primary, but I'm going to go with Character B as the main character. They're best positioned by the premise to drive the action, existing as a character both acted upon (hired by Character A) and acting upon others (protecting Character C), which makes them inherently centralized and enables a natural narrative flow that revolves around them as the primary figure our story is about.

This doesn't mean that Character C can't have their own storylines and character arc separate from the parts of the narrative they share with Character B, it just helps firm out the underlying framework we're hanging our narrative on.

So I'm going with Character B as the central primary protagonist driving the plot of the story and the figure I'm most interested in telling a story ABOUT. Its their character arc that'll act as the tentpole everything else is built around. As stated before, I tend to build the plot as a narrative journey whose largest purpose is to get the main character - Character B in this case - from an initial state of being as a character....to a specific endgoal I want for them. The story ultimately will be MOST about finding a path from who they begin as to who I want them to become by its conclusion, what I want them to be like by the last page, lessons I want them to have learned or obstacles overcome. Ironically, my start point for actually building Character B will be my intended endpoint for who they become as a result of their narrative journey.....and then I'll reverse engineer specifics of the character and their plot from there.

But for now, we're only picking one thing for Character B. Our first selection when it comes to them, the very first addition made to the rough sketched outline of a character somewhere against the backdrop of Bordertown....is a theme accompanying their character arc. Because there's no real point in me picking this theme as a complement or counterpart to the Setting theme, not when there's another third theme to pick that would throw off that balance anyway....I'm just gonna grab bag this shit.

The only specifics I have for my main character at this point is they're going to be in a position to be hired by Character A to protect Character C, a minor, from being exploited in some fashion, but beyond that, sky's the limit. I don't even have Character B's age selected in contrast to Character C, but since their dynamic will be central to the story, deciding whether Character B is also a minor or if they're different from Character C in that regard....this'll help me zero in on a potential character theme one way or another.

Now, there's nothing really stopping me from making both characters teenagers and having some in-universe or character explanation for why one would be picked to bodyguard a fellow teen vs the other being seen as needing that protection. Plenty of directions I could go with that, so its more just a gut preference that I'm not looking to write a teenage main character with this particular story, so Character B will be an adult. Not necessarily that much older than Character C, I have no preferences there yet, but it feels more natural to have them be hired as a protector in part because they're an adult rather than a teen - especially in the context of our setting, with Bordertown being full of runaways and teens kicked out by their families - and I don't feel any particular urge to subvert the natural expectation that anyone hired as a bodyguard would be an adult, so....they're an adult, then.

Which right away fills in some details about genre and overall narrative structure, as I have no interest in writing an adult/minor romantic relationship, so whatever dynamic Characters B and C end up having beyond just protector and protectee will not be romantic in nature. Plus, given the details just mentioned about the setting, and the prevalence of teens in Bordertown, Character B being an adult within that setting sets them up to be an outlier, relatively speaking.

Which in turn further refines the narrative logistics required by our premise, as it helps build a picture of why they in specific would be sought out as a protector - there being a limited number of options for adults familiar with Bordertown TO hire for that role goes a long way towards figuring out why in-universe this character was picked for that narrative role.

And as we narrow down character logistics - by necessity of the premise, Character B is now known to be both familiar with Bordertown and an adult unlike most of its residents - we open up a specific avenue of character selection choices. There's no particular requirement now for Character B to have any specific expertise with being a bodyguard....their suitability for the role could just be a matter of needing someone of age and experience navigating Bordertown. It doesn't mean they CAN'T have prior experience acting as a bodyguard, but still building from the gut at this point, I think its more interesting if they're not particularly prepared or suited for that role, leaving room for self-doubts as to how well they're doing at the job, whether they were the wrong choice, etc. We're laying the groundwork for internal conflicts already.

But since they ARE an adult with familiarity with Bordertown, that also makes it most likely they've been living there for awhile, and it works to say they came to Bordertown as a solitary teenager themselves, and aged into adulthood within it. Thus, even though they're an adult unlike Character C, this still lends itself to them being a Changeling as well.....which makes it possible, and even likely, that they've had their own personal experience with our Threat and Setting Theme, the exploitation a lot of teenage Changelings face by those interested in using them for their magic and taking advantage of their lack of resources and support systems to do so.

From here, we can reasonably sketch in the details/elements that their own experiences with exploitation or even just the specter of it will color all interactions they have with Character C while trying to protect them from it. It gives them a personal stake in what would otherwise just be a job, and begs the question....what does Character B see when they look at Character C? What do they see themselves as in comparison to Character C? Did they take this job because they saw it as a chance to be for someone else what they wished someone had been there to be for them, a shield standing between them and those who sought to use them? Is it just a paycheck and Character B feels they have nothing in common with Character C despite both being changelings and so keeps their emotional distance from them as a result, and if so, are they actually being objective here or are they just lying to themselves about not seeing themselves in Character C?

Did they maybe NOT have any personal experience with being exploited for their magic when they were still a teenager, either because they lucked out or they were powerful or resourceful enough to protect themselves from any attempts....and if so, does their role here and the way they view Character C contain any elements of guilt, deserved or otherwise, does it have anything to do with them feeling guilty for avoiding a fate so many others fall prey to and driven to protect Character C because of that guilt that they CAN'T relate to them rather than emotions born of the fact that they DO relate to them and their plight?

I've got options here, so running through them quickly and still going with what possibilities grab me the most....personally, I don't find guilt to be the best emotional driving force for a larger narrative, particularly if its unnecessary/irrational guilt rather than something actually merited by past actions they took. And as no angle for them actually deserving to feel guilty for avoiding personal victimization is jumping out at me, any guilt they're acting upon here would most likely IMO be undeserved, so.....the guilt angle just doesn't seem particularly compelling to me.

Which means regardless of other particulars, it does feel most right for Character B to have had their own experiences with the Setting Theme of exploitation when they were younger and possibly new to Bordertown, which provides a basis for them to relate to Character C whether they want to acknowledge that or not. Or inversely, they don't WANT to be able to relate to Character C, or vice versa, especially not to the degree they would if they fail to protect Character C from the Threat and they end up going through something similar to what Character B experienced when younger.

I'm personally inclined to knock off the "seeing themselves in Character C but not wanting to acknowledge it and insisting the job is just for the paycheck" option from the jump, just because denial as a central motivating factor is a tricky one to pull off. Any time you have a character arc rooted in an initial denial that the arc is intended to shake them out of at some point, you're giving yourself a clock from your very first page.

At some point, your character has to cut it out with the denial and face what it is they don't want to face, and the tricky part is there's no real way to gauge when and where to set that point in the narrative and if you gauge things wrong and drag the denial arc past the point readers are willing to have patience with it, you've shot your entire story in the foot. If you set that point too early in the narrative, it can make the momentum and pacing of the rest of your story and that character arc feel disjointed and unnatural, and again you've shot your entire story in the foot.

With a realization of denial and pivot to facing the truth as a fixed point your entire character arc hinges on, the most important thing becomes setting that point at JUST the right spot in the narrative and your entire story will sink or swim depending on whether your placed it in the right spot. There's a whole lot of risk in using a denial-based initial motivation and even if you do nail the placement of that hinge point, there's not really any inherent GREATER payoff to that character arc than what you could achieve with others.

So, with that off the table....we're left with two polar options:

Character B already sees themselves in Character C and it drives their desire to protect them from undergoing the things they did.....or they don't really see themselves in Character C, despite having similar history or elements of their backstories, and its a desire to AVOID ever seeing themselves reflected in this younger changeling that drives their desire to protect them from being shaped by the same factors they were and ending up more like them as a result.

Both those options lend themselves to entirely different directions, thematically speaking, with the former option gravitating more towards themes of recognizing the self in the other and the possibilities this creates for introspection or revisiting memories of past traumas, as well as reshaping one's view of themselves in the present - especially if upon reflection, past events or responses no longer look how they've gotten used to assuming they do.

Additionally, there's the angle of being driven by the desire - and opportunity - to protect a younger person you see yourself in from undergoing the same struggles or traumas you faced. This can feasibly be a vehicle for empowerment....a chance to write a new course for history in the form of taking a parallel situation and shaping it to a better resolution than the first time around had, even if it doesn't change the ending (and previous chapters) of your own story. But at the same time, this does the person you're trying to protect a disservice, if you're ultimately only seeing them as a proxy for yourself, or seeing yourself in them to such a degree as to miss or under-emphasize the ways in which they're different from you and their own distinct individual.

And then alternatively, you might also be more securely rooted in a desire to help and protect simply because you want to be for someone else what nobody was around - or chose - to be for you when you needed it. No illusions about being able to rewrite history or need to write yourself a better ending, instead just wanting to be a protector for a younger teen you relate to because they deserve someone to protect them and you're in a position to step up and be that person, so you do.

Going back to the opposite angle of NOT seeing yourself reflected in this younger individual, and being largely driven by an urge to keep it that way and protect them from becoming someone you CAN see yourself in, shaped by similar traumas....again, there's a lot of directions you can go with this. But this larger direction, the drive to AVOID seeing yourself reflected in the other - and by extension, creating a link or association between your protection of them and your goal of keeping them from becoming more like you - this can easily pivot towards themes of shame and self-loathing. Hinting at troubled self-image issues not far beneath your surface that the story's events are likely to exacerbate and make boil over. Not just wanting to protect someone from becoming more like you see yourself, but not really being happy or comfortable with the you that you see yourself as.

All of which can dovetail pretty seamlessly with the internal and thematic conflicts of being the person entrusted with using their power to protect someone while simultaneously seeing yourself as the end result of your failure to use that same power to successfully protect yourself. The potential impostor syndrome of being someone's bodyguard and guide, acting in roles that people associate with expertise and certain qualities of skill, and feeling like a fraud because if you fail them, they'll end up becoming you, and shouldn't that make you even LESS qualified to protect them than they are to protect themselves?

So....looking back at all of the above, and the options they lay out....altruism's all well and good, but in terms of narratives meant to grow a character from initial internal or emotional conflicts to some kind of resolution....altruism doesn't make for a good starting point, in terms of inciting motivations. So that's out.

Recognizing the self in the other and from there embarking on introspective re-examanations of yourself and past traumas and responses.....also a totally valid journey and motivations, but fairly low-energy ones, at least in and of themselves. Not the most narratively engaging.

The dichotomy of seeking empowerment or a fascimile of personal justice through steering a 'younger you' towards better outcomes than you managed for yourself....with the dehumanization of your younger charge inherent in being unwilling or unable to view them as their own person rather than just your second chance....that has the most potential of the "Character B relating to Character C and this driving their desire to protect them from undergoing the things they endured" options.

And in the "Character B not seeing themselves in Character C and wanting to keep it that way" direction....pretty much all of our options feed into each other and can feasibly work as the basis of a coherent character arc in and of themselves. All of which speaks to the strength of that narrative direction...it gives us way more bang for our buck.

We're pretty organically steered towards a strong initial character conflict to serve as a base to launch our character arc from. Character B has a personal emotional stake in ensuring Character C doesn't become like them, which fuels their drive to protect Character C and keeps them invested in a specific outcome, as well as primes them to make frequent and active choices in pursuit of it, whether they're helpful or are just reckless actions born more of their own fears than any actual necessity. We've got a clear direction for our character arc, momentum consistently generated by high-energy motivations that won't peter out until the resolution of the character arc, and self-loathing and shame as initial internal conflicts don't NEED to be earned or rational in order to be compelling.

All in all, there's an easily followed trajectory from that start point through revisitations of past traumas/responses to setbacks in coming to terms with what happened to you and separating how you view yourself from how you view factors that undeniably shaped you and finally culminating in you reconciling your inability to change your past with your ability to shed the negative self-image generated by your past and don a more positive one that will serve you better in the future. With emotional catharsis for the reader built right into that resolution and requiring no additional steps beyond just having Character B reach it.

And now not only have we already mapped out the broad strokes of Character B's overall character arc, including its start and end points, we have a clear selection of possible themes to immerse Character B and their arc in.

Themes like you are not defined by what was done to you by others. You can not make the changes you want for yourself while only acting to change things for a surrogate you've fixated on instead. Trying to protect someone from becoming like you denies them the chance to choose you as someone they want to be like. The worst things you think about yourself and assume everyone else thinks about you probably aren't even on anyone else's radar. Etc, etc.

For a variety of reasons, but mostly a gut instinct saying this one feels right, I'm going with Character B's associated theme as:

"The person you are and that you're trying to protect someone from becoming might very well be the person they want to be and that they're trying to ask your help to become. What you see as the failure to go through life unharmed can just as easily be seen as the triumph of continuing through life no matter how harmed."

Well, a condensed and pithier version of that, ideally. You get it though.

Anyway. That gives us two themes, one tied to the setting and one tied to the main character. Now we have options for what to gear the third theme towards. We could pick one specific to Character C, and no matter how that one juxtaposes with Character B's central theme, the Setting theme will still exist as a third over-arching narrative theme that keeps things from mirroring too exactly while still allowing for mirroring themes to exist. We could go with something specific to Character A, and ideally flesh them out more in the process, or we could pick something geared towards a specific point in the narrative journey, like an aimed-for climax that helps map out the plot structure in the process.

I'm going to refer back to the premise "Character B is hired to protect someone from an unknown threat" and see what jumps out at me this time....and after a second or two, I'm eyeing the motivations and character dynamics as two different or conjoined possibilities.

I already did a lot of legwork diving into possible motivations for Character B and built up most of their overall character arc....but ultimately, the theme I went with for Character B, while complementing everything I settled on there....still actually ended up being more about messaging and a conclusion for Character B to ultimately reach rather than something derived from or associated with their motivations in specific.

And also, I'm looking to find a theme that can weave a connection between Characters A, B and C on at least one shared level, so that we'll have a setting theme that encompasses all the characters likely to appear over the course of the story, a main character theme that marries their character arc to a specific thematic message, and a shared theme connecting the various characters via the comparisons and contrasts it allows me to make between their respective motivations and/or dynamics.

I still don't have any kind of image or sense of Character A, despite now having a pretty strong start to both Characters B and C - an adult and teenage changeling respectively, the latter with a backstory or situation similar enough to the former's own past that Character B worries Character C could easily end up just like them if not kept safe from whomever is seeking to exploit them and their magic.

Additionally, I know that Character B is a fairly longterm resident of Bordertown, who's lived there since they came there on their own as a teenager....either after being exploited in some parallel fashion or being victim of that upon arriving in Bordertown. Character B's age and adult status marks them as enough of a rarity among Bordertown residents, that said age and adult status alone were enough to land them on Character A's shortlist of potential bodyguards for Character C. While not set in stone, its likely that Character B's age/adult status were the primary elements leading Character A to approach them, and they don't additionally possess any particular expertise or experience acting as a bodyguard.

Since I already have several links/connections between Characters B and C, ways that they're alike or things they have in common, and because the most natural choice for Character A's base motivation is concern for Character C, suggesting some link or connection between Characters A and C, even if the roundabout nature of working through a proxy to protect the latter paints a picture of likely estrangement.....that leaves me wondering about possible dynamics between Characters A and B, or what their interactions might look like and whether they might have any shared connections or links as well.

The obvious connection there would be both are likely adults, having that in common with each other and a way they're similarly unable to relate or connect to Character C as a peer. Despite their shared status as adults, Character A would only need to seek out Character B to protect Character C if Character B had skills, resources or expertise that Character A didn't...or alternatively, if they felt Character C was more likely to accept help or protection from a stranger than from Character A.

So, more than likely - and with no gut instinct challenging these conclusions - Character A is not a Changeling themselves, nor a resident of Bordertown, and likely unable to directly relate to the experiences or threat of exploitation that Characters B and C share. They'd still need to possess enough resources - or have some other knowledge of Character B - to become aware of Character B as a potential solution for their needs, and seek them out....as well as have something to offer Character B sufficient to motivate them to take the job despite a lack of experience or interest in being a bodyguard. Additionally, they have some previous connection to Character C driving them to ensure they're protected, but that connection is either flimsy or damaged enough that they're not accompanied by Character C when seeking a protector for them, or attempting to safeguard them themselves.

(Or possibly Character A just doesn't believe themselves as capable of protecting Character C as Character B would be, due to familiarity with Bordertown, prior experiences with those Character C needs protection from, or something to do with Character B's magic - or their actual reasoning is a mix of all of the above).

Again, just starting from the most obvious connections or conclusions and branching out from there if needed....the most logical links to start building there are between Characters A and C in regards to their prior connection. I'm going to say they're parent and child, but estranged. At some point, some conflict between them led Character C to leave the safety of home - with attention paid to the fact that the exploitation of a minor theme paired with the World/Setting/Threat is optimized for a Character C who is a teen under eighteen and still meant to be living at home with their parents or legal guardians. Which would make them a full-fledged runaway, fleeing from a conflict or confrontation that made them view heading to Bordertown as their best prospect.

Pulling back just a little as I notice I've started referring definitively to elements I never actively decided on and are really just assumptions rather than an examination of the possibilities....since I never cemented Character A as a single individual, its worth raising the possibility that Character A is actually a) a parental unit, b) one parent acting in ways both agreed upon but with the other parent remaining behind at home, c) one parent acting on their own despite their partner's disapproval of this course of action, or even without their knowledge of it, d) a single parent acting on their own due to not having a co-parent, be that because of a divorce, death of a spouse, or something else.

Any of those could work well and offer up unique possibilities, but I'm leaning towards C or D, and after giving it a quick mental run-through, I'm gonna go with C, as that gives me the most vivid ideas.

So Character A is one of Character C's two parents, having followed them to Bordertown against the wishes of their co-parent or without their knowledge, after a conflict that has them estranged enough Character A believes Character C would be more likely - and more effectively - helped by a fellow changeling they feel more akin to than by their parent, Character A. Who also can't offer the same protection or experience navigating Bordertown and its threats but was still clearly willing to go to at least some length to try and ensure Character C's safe and protected, including going against/without their co-parent to do so.

Which brings us back to Character A and B's connections, associations or parallels beyond just both being adults....and after asking myself what other possible connections are there to mine there, I've got a big one, that sends the narrative in an entirely new direction but fleshing out a ton of additional elements in the process:

Now I'm thinking....what if Character A is Character B's parent as well?

That solves both the issue of how they find/learn about Character B in specific in order TO approach them, and why, other than just them being an adult in the mostly teen-populated Bordertown, they approach Character B over any and all of the other adult changeling options.

In addition, it goes a long way towards cementing the inciting motivations and reasons given for taking such an unusual job on behalf of a complete stranger....if Character C isn't in fact a complete stranger, but a younger sibling or maybe half or step sibling Character B hasn't seen since they came to Bordertown as a teenager themselves - likely after having run away from their own confrontation with Character A and their co-parent.

A years long estrangement between Character B and their family, as well as some kind of sizeable age gap between Characters B and C, would suggest that Character B likely hasn't seen Character C since they were very young, and raises possibilities for Character C to not initially know/recognize who Character B is when they first approach the latter....especially given how much changelings' appearances tend to change when the Change hits them.

It would also build upon and enhance all the aforementioned connections between Characters B and C, and likelihood of Character B seeing a lot of themselves in Character C, or wanting to avoid seeing them become like them or suffer a similar fate, and increases the personal stake Character B has in all of this.

At the same time, it introduces another potential internal conflict for Character B, and possible obstacle in Character B's attempts to build a connection with Character C or gain their trust.....as Character B's lack of communication with their family and years spent living in Bordertown, as well as personal experience with being exploited....all paint a picture wherein Character A and/or their co-parent did NOT follow Character B to Bordertown or make a similar attempt to ensure they were protected when Character B ran away as a teenager. Or if they did, they weren't successful in finding someone to protect Character B, or hired someone not up to the task.

Either way, it lays groundwork for Character B to be motivated to take this "job" in the interests of protecting their sibling and possibly reconnecting with them, doing their best to spare them from traumas like those Character B suffered, it allows for the potential wrinkle of Character C not knowing who Character B is to them and possible fall-out or issues arising from them later finding out the truth after Character B made a choice to continue withholding it.....and it introduces the possibility Character B's internal conflict about revealing their connection and reasons for keeping it secret (should they decide not to tell them), derive at least in part from Character B's jealousy:

That despite the parallels in Characters B and C's situations and conflicts with their parents, Character A made efforts to continue acting as a parent and showing their concern in Character C's case, that they did simply not make when it was Character B in a similar scenario.

Which, in turn, could exacerbate Character B's self-loathing and shame spirals and delay the development of their character arc, if Character B recognizes their jealousy as misdirected and judges themselves for feeling it and not knowing how to stop.

But to return to Character A, there's also the prospect that Character A's attempts to continue looking out for Character C and willingness to act against/without their co-parent.....are at least to some degree motivated by THEIR shame about not doing more on Character B's behalf or in an effort to reach out or maintain/renew a connection to them. Making their actions here and now only partly about Character C, the actual individual, and partly about their guilt and shame and desperation to do better by Character C than they did Character B. Their own attempt at a re-do or second chance at getting this right.

And there's always the possible angle of them having sought out Character B not just because they viewed them as the best person to try and recruit as Character C's protector, but also because the situation gave them an excuse (or push) to seek them out at all, after however many years of convincing themselves there was no point trying to fix things at this point or there was no chance Character B would ever be willing to hear from them. With Character A hoping even just to some small degree, that this could potentially lead to actually rebuilding a longterm connection to Character B.

And just like that, we've got the broad strokes of not just our A plot, but our B plot as well:

The primary narrative focus throughout the story will remain centered on Characters B and C's dynamic and their growing but tentative relationship, with this A plot having its own emotional components such as in terms of how Characters B and C view and feel towards each other and their situation. It'll also have its own distinct character arcs (or parts of their overall character arcs) - such as how Character B's attempts to protect Character C in the present brings up memories of past experiences being on the victimized side of things without protection....and both Character B's central theme and the resolution of their over-arching character arc are optimized to be woven into the climax and culmination of the A plot.

The A plot's primary character dynamics, thematic messaging and corresponding emotional and character arcs have all they need to be resolved within the structure of the A plot, by the A plot's own narrative beats, with all of the aforementioned able to exist with our without the B plot.

In contrast, the B plot can not exist on its own independent of the A plot's super-structure, but still will contain its own shape, structure and resolution within that super-structure - focusing on Character B's relationship and dynamic with Character A, emotional components distinct to Character B's feelings about their own history with Character A, the latter's efforts on behalf of Character C and juxtaposed with their lack thereof on behalf of Character B, and introspection/revisiting of their own past conflicts with Character A and the events that were set in motion by that and culminated in Character B's traumas after leaving home. With all of the above able to parallel Character B's revisiting of past events and traumas in the A plot, without that being necessary for the resolution of either A or B plots rather than just an available option.

The B plot's resolution, in terms of both narrative and emotional beats, can and should exist separate from the A plot's resolution, as well as occurring before the latter. Character B's ultimate views of their own history, connection and desired relationship with Character A should be settled and established before the ultimate conclusion of their character arc as of the resolution of the A plot. Their negative self-image and shame/self-loathing spirals can't be fully addressed until any insecurities about their dynamic with Character A or feelings of being second place to Character C have been faced and dealt with.

And to bring it back from there to selecting our third theme, one associated with either the shared motivations or dynamics of the characters in regards to each other.....

I'm going with Theme Three being:

Trying to make someone your do-over or second chance to fix mistakes you made with someone else: just a terrible idea destined to end messily for everyone or - no, never mind, there is no or, its just that, there's only one outcome.

Again....just picture a condensed, pithier version of that. It's fine, that can be fixed. Scalpels exist for a reason.

Anyway!

So we've picked three themes, and added them to our frame (world), background (setting), premise, rough character outlines and depiction of threat....

And then we rinse and repeat as needed, with each additional element added to the story or picked for a character.

Sure, alllll of that and we haven't even started selecting traits and options for our characters here, seems a whole lot of work just to pick three themes before even moving on to base stats for the main character.

Except the trick of it is, by the time you get to this part and finally START fleshing out the specific characteristics and physical stats and identity traits of each character....

Even as you begin building your characters from the ground up, fleshing them out and filling in the outline or idea of them one trait or characteristic at a time, you should have enough figured out about WHO they are that you have a sense of their personalities already at hand and available to weave into each newly added trait or character element.

Without even having chosen basic identity traits for Character B, nothing selected or cemented yet about their gender, race, sexual orientation, physical stats or possible disabilities or neurodivergencies let alone the world-distinct character elements like changelings' otherworldly appearances and magic distinct to each individual....

We've already built up an impression of what Character B is like as a person, in relation to others like Characters A and C, in conjunction with our chosen themes, as contextualized by the shape of their overall character arc. And we can use this to inform and quiz and add depth to everything we choose to build into that character from here.

Character B struggles with self-loathing issues and shame spirals born of a negative self-image deriving from their inability to protect themselves from being exploited and victimized when they were younger and new to Bordertown, having just run away from their home and a conflict with their parents, leaving behind a much younger sibling or half or step sibling, and being both hurt and unsurprised when their parents showed no attempt to follow or reconnect with them, or any evident concern for what happened to them after they left home.

Character B has since spent years living in Bordertown and establishing a home there, aging into one of the area's few adults among a mostly underage population where Character B's greater age and adult status automatically confers a degree of authority, experience and capability in the eyes of most others, whether or not they possess any of those things.

We know that when approached out of the blue by their estranged parent Character A after years without contact or indication Character B ever crossed their mind, Character B's personality is such that despite their issues with Character A and the confused and undecided feelings they've awoken towards Character A and their part in the events of the past and Character B's past traumas, and even while feeling jealous and resentful of Character Cand the greater efforts their shared parent seems willing to make on their behalf, they do accept the responsibility of seeking out and protecting the sibling they harbor at least some irrational envy towards.

Additionally, their resentment and jealousy, to whatever degree they're feeling that, coexists alongside their acknowledgment they've missed Character C all these years and wanting to see and know who they've become while keeping them safe....with this also sharing space with their awareness of their paralleled journeys and circumstances, the very thing forcing them to hold up a mental image of how Character A reacted to one child in this situation next to how differently they reacted to the other child in the same situation ALSO keeping them keenly aware of the ways Character C is like them and could end up even more like them. How easily the familiar situation Character B sees Character C in now could lead down the same paths that so traumatized Character B and are the reason for much of the shame and self-loathing they struggle with.

We also know Character B's drive to protect Character C from enduring similar traumas is at least partially fueled by their belief that they're damaged and who they've beccome due to those traumas is a fate they want to protect their younger sibling from, as much as they want to protect them from any specific trauma. That despite all their parallels, similarities and shared circumstances, connection and familial history, all the ways in which Character B can see themselves in Character C and use as a basis for forging a new connection out of the common ground between them....in fact, in part BECAUSE of all these similarities and shared connections and circumstances....rather than being used as an opportunity to grow closer to Character C and build trust, due to their negative self-image, all of this actually feeds into and fuels their belief that the fundamental differences between them come down to the traumas they feel broke them and that Character C can yet be protected from....ensuring they never become more like Character B.

While trying to build a connection with a jaded and untrusting Character C who believes Character B to be a total stranger with a specific interest in Character C involving an unknown agenda on behalf of someone else....none of which are factors conducive to building trust.....AND despite their own barely-shoved-down desire to tell Character C everything....Character B continues to keep who they really are a secret and withhold the truth of their connection and who asked them to protect Character C and why. Their yearning to re-embrace a sibling relationship they thought they'd never get another chance at butts up directly against their assumption that none of this is permanent and there's no longterm connection or future to be built between them, reinforcing their instinct to protect themselves from the inevitable hurt and disappointed bound to come their way once Character C realizes how damaged they actually are and decides to move on, with Character B's unwillingness to trust in Character C - even while asking for their trust themselves - spilling directly out of Character B's inability to trust in their own worth and value as someone Character C would want to reconnect with as a sibling and stick around for indefinitely.

Thus the one truth that could guarantee Character C's faith and trust in Character B stays buried by the latter long enough that its eventual reveal ends up an eruption with catastrophic repercussions for their tentative bond, rather than emerging as a voluntarily shared secret that cements that bond into something more lasting. In Character B's mind, the only defense they could offer as explanation went hand in hand with convincing Character C that having Character B as their sibling wasn't in Character C's best interests. In their self-sabotaging attempt to protect their younger sibling from the threat Character B views themselves to be, Character B is directly responsible for the wedge driven between them and resulting distance Character C insists upon, ultimately leaving them exposed and vulnerable to the larger and actual threat of the very people Character B had meant to protect them from.

Leaving Character B with the belief their only real (or effective) path forward required facing their demons and finding some kind of strength or advantage in the only real edge they had left in regards to these people.....the very memories and experiences of being traumatized at their hands that Character B had spent so long trying to avoid revisiting.

Ultimately, the irony in the resolution of Character B's character arc is it only comes in the wake of Character B reframing past failures to make it out unharmed as past triumphs where they made it out on their own. Examining the possibility they're not someone whose only value is in existing as a cautionary tale, but rather there are elements of themselves and strengths they have that others might see as enviable and worth emulating....with all of this having been how Character C viewed Character B from their initial "meeting" and the entire basis of what trust they'd been willing to put in Character B from the start and that they had been building upon before Character C found out the truth of their familial connection.

Now!

All of that is already at your fingertips and able to be factored in as you select identity traits:

What gender are they - and how might them being male vs female vs trans vs non-binary - impact the personality described above or result in them expressing different parts of it more than others or in different ways?

What race are they - and how might the different options intersect the described personality differently?

Sexual orientation - same question. Any possible disabilities and/or neurodivergencies - same question. Etc, etc.

And at any point, when in doubt, unsure what option to pick or add to a character....default to the Three Pronged Approach.

You want the clearest sense of how Character B would interact with people? Map out three different interactions: what does it sound/look like when they interact with Character A vs when they interact with Character C vs when they interact with one of the Threats?

You want a sense of what Character B is like at their most approachable, when their best traits are on display? Pick or figure out three traits and write how they come across when leading with those traits, as described through the eyes of a different POV character.

Want to layer in personal likes and dislikes? Pick three unrelated musicians and triangulate between them, see what kind of taste in music that creates an impression of, and what that might say about anyone who would point to those specific artists as their go-to choices.

Want a strong mental picture for what Character B is like when they catastrophize, or their inner monologue when spiraling? Imagine three different scenarios for when Character B could have told Character C the truth, and then try and put yourself in Character B's head and figure out what train of thought or particular insecurities or worst case scenarios creates a plausible mindset or logic you can follow in regards to why they didn't take that opportunity to come clean.

In light of all of the above, the character mapped out and described here, what might someone like Character B take comfort it, or consider relaxing? What are three possibilities for their greatest fear and who are their top three celebrity crushes and why.

Literally just.....pick personality traits to choose from at this point, or flip through magazine or online personality quizzes and ask the same questions as them while trying to answer from the POV of Character B, and go with three options or variables as needed, and see what characterization ground that covers and offers as stuff that feasibly fits within the triangle generated by those three points, rather than belonging to some random outlying point far outside it.

Do as many or as few as needed til you're happy with the character and personality/characterization you perceive them to be as of that point, and don't be afraid to pop the hood again later and move some things around until it all feels like it fits within the same singular individual in a more naturally cohesive way.

Aaaaand that's my process! Or I mean, these parts of my process at least. Same diff. Well not really the same at all so much as diff diff but eh. You get it.

Or not. I never can tell. Should probably stop making that part rhetorical I suppose.

#kalen writes things sometimes #on writing #kalen's writing process #changelings 'verse #????idek dude. tagging is an art form and I am not its Michaelangelo

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arctic-pop · 1 year

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Bangchan vs Home Depot Manager

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Bangchan x reader

Warnings: none

Imagine: bangchan defends you from your mean home depot boss

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You sigh, just another boring day working at home depot. You were working outside in the garden area, its dirty but you dont mind it. Youre not like the other home depot employees, you actually like being outside. You were getting a plant vase when all of a sudden, someone bumped into you!! The vase dropped, shattering and even pieces of it cutting your cheek. "Ah! Hey!!" You turn around. It was your boss!!

"Stupid YN!" He yelled. "Thats home depot property you just broke!! You lost the company money! I cant believe they hired a woman. Youre too weak to work here!"

You start tearing up. But he just continues yelling "idiot women are too weak and dumb. Now you owe us money!"

All of a suddem you hear another voice behind you. "Hey!" It said.

You turn around, youre hair whipping in the wind. You find a beautiful boy with blue hair along with a bunch of other super cute guys. When youre eyes met, you blushed and he seemed to be struck too. But then he went up to your boss. "She wasnt too weak to hold it, you bumped into her and now youre bullying her for it!"

"Who the freak do you think you are?"

"Im bangchan, and Im not an idiot like you obviosuly. Women arent weak or stupid. You need to apologize. Or else."

Banchan looked so menacing it made you pee your pants a little bit. His dark eyes bored into your boss's skull. The rest of the gang stood by him also menacingly. Still your manager didnt back down. "Or else what?"

Bangchan pushed you behind himself protectively, then with his muscely arms, he wound up and threw up punch right on your managers face!!

The manager started to cry and ran away. Bangchan turned around to you. He saw the cut on your cheek and put his hand there. "Are you okay??"

You blushed furiously with his warm hand on your face, a hand that had fought for you! "Im- im okay. Thank you so much!!" You teared up again.

"I just cant believe he was bullying you like that. Why dont you quit if your boss is so mean?

"I cant- i have to take care of my family."

He nodded , his fluffy blue hair bouncing. "By the way, can you show me where plumbing is?"

"Of c-c-course." You stuttered a little, still flustered from when his hand had gently touched your face. You started walking to plumbing, the group of boys behind you.

"What do you need in plumbing?

"The biggest plunger you have"

One of the boys in the back spoke up. "Bangchan pooped so hard it clogged the whole houses plumbing!!"

Bangchan blushed and smacked the back of his head. "Shut up hyunjin!! Its a lie. The toilet just broke cuz its old."

"Its okay, "you said. "Our toilet is clogged too but i cant afford a plumber." You want to tear up, thinking about all the money your parents waste on drugs and alcohol, but you push back the tears.

You found the plungers, grabbed the biggest one home depot offered, and handed it to him.

Your hands brushed as he grabbed it and you quickly drew your hand away to brush your hair out of your face in embaressment.

"Cute" he whispered under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh heck did i say that out loud?"

All the guys started laughing at him, one of them rolling on the floor. It made you giggle.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No this is it"

You start to turn around when he suddenly reached out and grabbed your arm, "Wait!"

You turn around. "Yes?

"Will you go out with me?"

You gasped, so excited. "Of, of course!!"

"Ill take you on the nicest date ever, and then I can go over and use my new plunger to fix your toilet too."

"But but i cant pay you-"

"Its for free. Cause I like you, YN"

"No ones ever done this for me... can i hug you?"you ask.

He smirked and opened up his arms. You ran to him. Wrapping your arms around him, not caring that your still wearing your home depot apron. You can smell the faint odor of poop on him as you hug, breathing in his air, but you dont mind. "Thank you for being my home depot hero"

"Of course baby" bangchan said.

The End

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carmasi · 1 year

Text

Mercenary for Hire Chapter 7 - Part 2

Kyrius throat bobbed, nervousness slowly taking over her body. She’d been through this all in her head multiple times, but never had she prepared herself for this feeling of uncertainty that was now taking over her as a whole. Her knees almost buckled at the growl of the beast that roared was heard all throughout the cave making even the stalactite fall on the ground. Her hand brought up to her tightening chest. With a shaky breath she was finally able to gather her courage and manage to utter “let’s go..” her knees still shook slightly, but she started moving to the center toward where the beast was summoned, he followed. The mercenary adjusted his gauntlet as well as his belt where his sword was kept in its sheath, from his satchel he pulled out a couple potions, a green and a yellow, thing to help him enhance his movements and abilities. He looked over at the warlock, she didn’t looks like someone who'd be preparing for battled, he didn’t know what kind of thing a spell casters did, but he knew they could do with something extra, “are you going as you are?” he asked curiously. She halted and gasp, remembering whom they would go against and how her own nervousness had made her forget her own preparations “right…” she stopped on her tracks, bringing her hand together, magic dancing through her body as she chanted something under her breath.“ energy coat, Magic amplifier” soon her body was enveloped in a coat of pure magic that could protect her from some damage. Her magic power seemed to have doubled while her fingers still crackled with mana , she snickered, a little more confidence than how she’d be a moment before. “okay!” Kyrius cheered. She brought out a book from her satchel and then another, as she flipped through the pages of the golden looking book adorned with black lighting, she chanted “ that should be at least 2 slots for chain lighting and one for comet..” he couldn’t understand what she was doing or the why behind her actions. But if it helped her confidence raise he was all for it. He had noticed how her knees shook slightly at the roar from before, but the fire in her honey brown eyes told him she was now prepared for whatever came their way.

When they arrived to the middle of the cave, where the beast roar uncontrollably. Like a toddler whom just woke up hungry from a nap, though they found him surrounded by a herd of Ice titans, well more like three of them guarded the Lizard. The Salamander glimmered with every move, even amongst the Titan its body was clear, completely made of ice, the shiny scales on its back reflected the dim light in the cave almost as if it was the aurora. What seems to be blue flames flowed from the back of the creature. His snout was more squared than other lizards she’d seen and frozen ice whiskers to the side. He didn’t seem to have Fangs from afar but you could see indeed his ice fangs frame the squareness of its face. He growled at their presence. Kyrius stepped back instinctively her body telling her to run, the sheer power, the pressure of the creature’s own magic. She felt the hand of the mercenary on her shoulder which stopped her from moving further “I got you” his reassurance, mean a lot more than he could ever imagine, he stepped in front of her, ready to give it all to the woman at his side, “I.. I didn’t consider the Ice titans.. And I didn’t bring enough spell books.. I ..” her voice shook as she explained but he smirked, unsheathing his sword “That’s why I’m here”. She felt a thug deep within her, his silver gaze glowed as he removed his cloak, his broad back to her as he held on to his sword ready to charged. “W-wright” she whispered what she knew of his name, a sense of security overwhelmed her. His presence alone, have been more than she had expected, and seen his back to her protecting her, reassuring her, she smile. The pounding on her hearth ceased, as she nodded “I’ll support you.. I can at least do that” she held a blue gemstone to her face “I just need some time, to prepare… ” he nodded in return before he charged.

She didn’t so much as blink , when the mercenary was no longer by her side. He had taken off, straight into their opponent. His movements were swift , the swings of his sword were so natural while he slash through the ice titans. It almost seemed as if the sword was an extension of himself. He was quick on his feet, moving faster as he dodge one of the titan’s punches and swiftly, moved behind it. He then pushed it into the one that was in front. With a motion of his wrist, his sword was enveloped by what seems like an aura of magic. He used a bowling bash. Knocking them back a few inches. Their ice bodies, scratched up by the edge of his sword, as they stumble to get up. Another titan approached, before he notice the Salamander moving along to their side. He growled, using that brief moment to slice into the one that came behind him, and finally finishing up the last two, with another swift movement of his sword. Then, he turned to see the ice salamander, their main objective “safety wall” her sweet voice echo as a pillar of light appeared before him as he looked to see her.

“That’ll keep you safe, just keep his attention!”

she yelled as she gathering her energy, he grinned.

Even though, his body was safe within the some what comforting warm light of the woman safety wall, he could see the Salamander’s clawing at it. His sword clashed immediately with the creature's fangs, over, and over. Now that its minions were gone he growled. It didn’t like being alone it seems, and it was about to take it out on him. He didn’t care though, he was ready. His sword matching every move of the creature’s claws. He screeched this time, the echo made the ground tremble. He listened to her soft whimper, and looked over at the blonde warlock covering her ears before he looked back to the creature, who kept on banging on the magic wall. He tsk with his tongue, annoyed. His gaze went from her, to the creature in front of him. One more claw hit the wall before it was broken and he had to sprint back to dodge one of the big fangs this time, “ release!” and just like that, a blow of lighting swiftly went past him and directly struck the beast, afflicting enough damage to make him screech. Once again the cave shook with the creatures roaring and she almost felt to the ground as she tumble. He held his ground.

The creature had been struck and at a distance momentarily. His silver eyes now looked to the woman, worry filled those deep moonpools. she was standing, “I’m okay!” she screamed back. He let out a breath of relief, but not for long as he notice the creature switch its attention to her. Her voice may have caught his attention, or was it the big lighting strike she casted, causing the creature scales to finally look unpolished. He didn’t appreciate him going after her, “I’m your opponent!” Wright spat, and just as swiftly as before, he moved, his sword making contact with the creature's head. He had yet to pierce through the creature's tough scales. Despite how many times his claw meet his sword, he hadn't even made a decent cut yet. He was sure, that if it wasn’t because of her magic, they probably wouldn’t have made any damage to the thing. That worried him. He jumped back again to avoid the creatures crawls, but he was careless and his stepped falter, the salamander's crawls meeting his chest “Ngh” he complaint by the pain he felt, his clothe torn at the chest and smalls dripples of blood hit the ice floor. He went down on his knee, just for a minute to catch his breath. He didn’t notice how his stamina was now depleting, but the ice lizard wasn’t one to take breaks as he charged yet again.

“WRIGHT!” .

Kyrius yelled, seen as the lizard slashed his chest and watching as his blood drippled from his body and into the ground, he’d been holding his own for enough time, so easily it haven’t even cross her mind how his stamina would suffer. How selfish the thought clouded her head, thinking of what she could do to help, she bit her lip “ R-RELEASE!” she chanted again. Releasing the magic energy preciously stored and another lighting struck the beast. That was her second slot. It wasn’t too long ago when she’d become a warlock, and her teacher had been gone for a while, disappeared just like everyone else, and this caused many insecurities within her, she wasn’t as familiar with her abilities as she’d like to be, so she was only able to store up to tree spell for immediate casting, the rest however, required her chanting, requires time for the magic to gather and then release around her.

She held in a breath, seen as the creature screeched again and turned to her. She jolted, feeling the chills down her spine. The mercenary looked winded by now. The creature making waves in her direction. She looked to Wright before looking at the Salamander, he was injured, and it looked like his stamina was about to give out. Her palm started to sweat as she thought of what to do next. “Hey!” His voice, his low deep masculine voice echoed, as he stood holding on his sword. The wound on his chest wasn’t as deep but he was indeed running out of stamina. He didn’t notice, how much effort it took to keep up with the creature’s assaults. But this wouldn’t affect his mission. He will not allow that thing to get close to her. As per mercenary contracts and law, they were to flee if things got dire, his friends, no, his colleagues would’ve fled by now. He tsk once more, he didn’t flee, he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. If he did he wouldn't forgive himself, not if it meant leaving her behind, not if it meant she would get hurt, no, he would rather die first. He casted another blowing bash on the Lizard and immediately after, he was met with it’s claws tossing him into the wall. A stalatice piercing his shoulder. He coughed out blood, but still, he stood up. Kyrius gasped in horror, her hand brought up to her mouth, as she saw the gruesome scene “No.. please, I don’t.. ” she thought to herself. “I can’t..” her eyes looked with horror, tears almost flooded her eyes, as she watch the man tried to avoid the Salamander attack with little to not success. Her emotions where unchecked, her fears, worries, longings. Her magic started free flowing through her body, while her hands shook, in despair, she didn’t want him to die. “I can’t do this, please don’t..” she mumbled to herself, her voice shaking. He barely dodged another of the creature's attacks, a frost drive spell, when he noticed the free flowing energy coming from the warlock's body. “What is she doing?” he looked over while he panted and avoided another attack, but his attention was on her, when the Salamander slashed once more, and this time, he couldn’t dodge.

Her honey-brown eyes were fogged, and filled with despair. Her body trembled at the sight. The mercenary managed to shake it off, standing as he could. He should be worry about himself, but he couldn't help but to look her way, he wasn’t sure how or why, but he could feel her despair, her fear. “KYRIUS!” he called out, in an attempt to bring her back, to snap her out of whatever trance she was currently on. She looked up, her face was scares. Horror filled her deep brown eyes as she saw him being swatted away by the ice lizard. Something thug at her heart. A scream left her lips “ WRIGHT!!” her hand reach out almost wanting to hold him. She Sobbed unknowingly, she wanted this to stop, but had no idea how to stop it.

“fuck”

Wright groaned when his face hit the floor and then was keep there under the creatures claws. “Stop it! STOP IT!” she screamed frantically, she couldn’t watch him die, she could not allow him to. Her mana was out of control as wind currents circle around her and out of control, the whole cave was engulf in what seemed like a full blown windstorm, all because of the energy her body emanated as she watch “Release!” she screamed again in between her own sobbing screaming and a flicker of crimson shone across her eyes, as crimson as her sister’s, her mother’s. A Giant burst of energy hit the ground, an explosion of all kind of magic struck right where the beast stood.

#mercenary for hire #kyrius keeper #ragnarok stories #Oc tuff #RO

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sakurology · 3 years

Note

could you do the nsfw alphabet for atsumu please? thank you :)

Aw shit, here we go again...

NSFW Alphabet: Miya Atsumu

gn!reader focused

A/N: She hasn’t written in awhile but you know what I’m proud of it- lol be nice to me or I’ll leave forever jk I won’t but still be nice to me ily 💕 Atsumu is a menace I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Obviously nasty below the cut so if you’re a kid fuck off

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

He’s not the best, but certainly not the worst. He will take care of you, but… only after he takes care of himself first. Usually that just means he needs to take a shower. Once he does, he’s free to supply cuddles until you both fall asleep.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

He has abs so solid you could make a sharkcoochie board on them. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

When Atsumu cums… he cums hard. It’s like having an out of body experience- every nerve cell in his body is firing off as he tenses up, digging his nails into whatever flesh he can grab, and grinding his heels into the surface supporting him. He bites down so hard his teeth grind involuntarily as his face contorts in a strained statuesque vision. One low growl from deep in his chest comes out through gritted teeth as he sputters out mixtures of “that’s it,” and “don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The orgasm face of Atsumu Miya is one of the 7 wonders of the world.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

It’s not a secret per se, but he’s been exposed and clowned for eating ass… so he doesn’t wanna talk about it.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

So contrary to popular belief, I don’t think he’s that experienced... he’s just lucky! (Lmaoooo all of his experience is based on like 2 actual people that he maybe got to second base with (he says third but come on we know he’s lying) and then a litany of porn. Poor thing just wants some coochie I AM HERE KING and he has no trouble finding it, he just never seals the deal. He’s someone who just kind of, knows what to do naturally. He’s able to read someone’s body by touch alone, and so he knows what you like right off the bat based on how you react. He might try a couple of things at the start to see what really makes you squirm, but once he’s got it... holy hell has he ever got it.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

I hate to say how easy this was- but I KNOW Atsumu is a guy who prefers doggy. I see him as a hair puller, so this is perfect for him. I also could see him being into mirrors, and this is the perfect position to make you look at what he’s doing to you, especially while he’s pulling your head back by your hair. He especially likes gripping his thumbs into the smalls of your back (he crosses his arms bc saw it in a porn once and he thinks it makes him look cool), and when he’s INTO it, he likes to smack your ass to encourage you.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Is goofy by accident. Like will sometimes try throwing in something new with his normal dirty talk that completely throws you off. He hates when you laugh at him for it, but you find it endearing.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

I’m gonna… say something so controversial yet so bold:

What hair?

And yes I mean that. Smooth. He waxes. Monthly. No hair. (Besides like… legs and armpits… yah he doesn’t touch those) Naked mole rat dick but fuck it he’s Atsumu motherfucking Miya he can do what he wants.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

While he’s not the most... romantic in general per se, he does want to make you feel appreciated. He’s very eager to get his, but he won’t allow himself to unless you have already. It takes restraint, but he cools himself down by having you get on top, or by leaving lingering kisses anywhere he can, saying you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

When he’s away from you he loves to send you videos of himself or FaceTime you. He gets you worked up enough to join him no matter where you are. He just needs to see you, he needs you to see him stroking his cock to the thought of you- he can’t cum without you telling him to.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

I have to get this out but I KNOW he’s nasty. I imagine Atsumu as a huge dirty talker and also someone who’s into spitting. Both of those are just clear in my brain... like he would be pundinng you from behind, spit on your back, and then call you a slut all in 3 seconds flat but the way that you would cream? Ugh insanity he needs to be arrested he needs to be stopped

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Since he’s got money now- he’s a big fan of ordering Uber XLs or even just hiring a driver for a night on the town as a flex. But he especially loves telling his driver to put up the window partition while he annihilates you in the backseat. I just think he’s a fan of car sex in general- it just does it for him.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Loves to hear his name. Whether you’re moaning it or screaming it like it’s the only word you know, he’s always going to ask you who you belong to, and the answer is always Atsumu.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He totally eats ass. He’s just not gonna tell anyone bc he told Osamu ONCE and now his contact name is ASStumu and he lives in fear of that getting out.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Sloppppppyyyyyy. Loves giving ~slightly~ more than receiving, simply bc he loves the sight of seeing his spit dripping down your thighs while he goes down on you. Loves eye contact when you’re going down on him.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Though I wouldn’t say he’s super experienced, I know he’s relentless. He fucks. Literally just fucks. Not in the sense that he only treats you like a hole bc yikes, but in the sense that he just goes the speeds of fast or faster. There’s no slow with him.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

Yeah. Lots of them. Anywhere, anytime. Particularly for him, a lot of them end up being in his car, simply because you’ll be out somewhere and the mood strikes. He’ll quickly take you out to the car for a few minutes, slut you out, and then return to the function like nothing happened. You’ve had many a quickie in a bathroom or closet in a party as well. When he wants you, he wants you, so he’s not afraid to take you.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

Not as much of a risk-taker as people think. Mostly because he wants to protect you. He would hate for someone to see you in such a compromising position… but also, you’ve had your fair share of quickies in the bathrooms of various wedding receptions, so he’s lying.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can last a decent amount of time, if he spreads it out over multiple rounds. I’m general, he can probably go about 2 or 3 rounds without needing a break. More if you draw out foreplay with him. He’s a pleaser, so really how long he lasts is up to you. He’s got the power and control to hold off on is own release until he’s certain you absolutely can’t take anymore.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

One of those mfs who gets you the mold of his dick as a toy for your birthday for when he’s away because according to him “you’ll be so needy while I’m gone”

I hate him so much but I would use that shit every day he knows what he’s doing I’m so upset

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Speaking of being needy- he loves to egg you on when you are. He knows all the buttons to push, but he’ll never actually make the move until you’re begging. And of course he loves to turn that around in you, hitting you with that “god, ya just can’t get enough of me, can ya?”

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

He’s more of a talker than a moaner. Not necessarily loud in bed- but very, very vocal. Commanding of you in a good way, and will definitely show his appreciation through praise.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

Actually has a Cosmo subscription bc he likes trying all the strange and obscure sex positions in the articles. Also likes taking the quizzes, and will casually have you do them with him at breakfast.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

he’s a little on the thicker side. Its probably a good 7 inches, so it’s enough to fill you, add in the stretch of his girth and it’s a good, mild burn when he first goes in, but he fills you just enough without it being way too much. He’s a shower, so he doesn’t get much longer, but you have a lot to work with. He also has a cute freckle on his left inner thigh.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

His sex drive is on the higher end, but really only when he’s in his off season. When he’s actively playing in games, he tries to curb his appetite a bit because he believes in the superstition that sex messes with players’ stamina on the court.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

He’s gonna knock out, but not until he showers. He ALWAYS showers after. The water soothes his muscles and by the time he’s done it’s lights out.

Taglist Starseeds (link in nav to join): @honey-makki @acciobrooms @sen-brainrot @the-3d-sky-sister @minato-hoe @strawberrymakki @prettyforpapiiwa @arixtsukki @freyafolkvangr @milanapolitana @notjasmin @keishinsuke

If ur url is bolded, send me a dm! ✨

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #hq headcanons #hq hcs #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #daisy’s red light district 🚨

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whitefantasy21-blog · 3 years

Text

Greatly inspired by the many isekai manhwa i have read and is still on the reading list

This is pretty much a self-indulgent fic.

Man, i want to be the child of this rich scammy tsundere daddy that has no self-preservation, pretty sure many wants to be too

MC who is a massive fan of The Trash of the Count's Family had gotten that wish, one day she woke up in a baby body!

She was reborn as Cale Henituse's daughter and cue squealing like a true fan, thank you whatever God that granted me this wish!

however pretty soon she realized that not everything is rainbow and sunshine.

Her father, Cale wasn't Kim Rok Soo but rather the first Cale Henituse, the true trashy young Master of the Count

This, this raised a lot of red flags. Curse you God!

MC was named after her grandparents Jour Thames and Deruth Henituse, therefore getting the name Drew Henituse (I'm terrible at naming so bare with me)

Drew felt a bit embarrassed as Cale stared her adoringly, and made a promise to her that he would be the best father for her

with a smile that melted all her doubts away, she made a resolve to protect this new family of hers, he may not have been the father she initially wanted but he was still a tsundere daddy with self-destructive ways that needed her help... what is with this standards??

Drew Henituse, the secret child of the Trash from the Henituse household is kept hidden even from his own family. If people found out about her, it may bring trouble to his family and he was this close to getting Basen to accept becoming the true heir of the Henituse Family

He continued his trashy ways while secretly raising his baby in the sidelines, ever heard of a shapeshifter? yeah he hired one to pretend to be him whenever he wanted to go under the radar, the shapeshifter is also a nanny whenever he has to come back to his father's home, as far as he could tell it was a two in one situation, a win-win for him.

Everything was fine.

However it all changed when his beloved daughter had brought home a disgusting mutt. It was hate at first sight.

Choi han: . . . Is this yours? I saw her wondering around the street, its dangerous to leave children unattended

Cale's interpretation: What kind of parent are you?? leaving your child to wander about, how negligent.

Cale: . . .

The Shape shifter: Master I am so sorry!

Drew: Daddy can we keep him?

Internally: Yes! let's keep the original hero to protect us!

Cale: . . . Tsk.

Internally: My daughter is already getting seduced by this bastard!

The two kittens that Drew had randomly brought home one day, watched from the sidelines while Drew is already planning on how to rescue the black dragon

Basically, Drew just keep bringing random people (from the tcf cast) home until the Count family finally noticed her existence

Then they started trying to win her over, competing to be her favorite family member however that place will always be reserved for Cale.

Drew's mission is to help mend the bond that was broken in Cale's attempt in protecting his family.

Secretly, she's preparing herself for the day that Cale would switch with Kim Rok Soo, it scares her and breaks her heart when she thought of her Daddy disappearing

But that day will never come to pass as she stumble upon the newly transmigrated Soo Trio

Cale wonders why his daughter is infatuated with Kim Rok Soo, while said person just wishes for someone to take the hyper child away, Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk, the traitors were laughing at him and taking pictures of this adorable sight

2nd take of an isekai fic.

SOME SPOILER AND TRIGGER WARNINGS.

Drew opens her eyes with a gasp, cold sweat dripping as she try to clutch something that was now out of her reach

She looked down at her soft hands, still untainted by scars that will never fade from her heart

She hurried to look for a mirror, a face that she hadn't seen for a long time was staring back at her. . .

They had done it, they went back in time.

a smile blossom on her face but it felt awkward so she just dropped it

Drew hurried to make plans and went look for her father. Face hidden underneath her hood, she watched a young red hair man walks by her.

Drew instantly knew that man wasn't her father, it was a different person living in his body.

It seems she was the only one that went back, however she would still do everything to protect this stranger because he was now Cale Henituse and therefore family

It was everything they fight for, everything they hoped, wished, dreamed for... but why had she been the only one

Sir, (She calls him, she would never call him Father or Cale because it felt like betraying-) she'll soon learn is every bit of stupid and self sacrificing as his namesake

She was too, she would be willing to give her life up to protect this new makeshift family

KRS now known as Cale, looked at the small child with shock, she was filthy and much too thin to be healthy but the face was staring back at him was undeniably, the same face he saw in the mirror just much younger

The guilt of accidentally stealing someone else body crawled back up from where he locked it

Silently he promised the original that he would take care of his daughter in his stead, and he could have imagined but he swore he heard a soft 'thank you'

This MC went through life where the White Star won, the Roan Kingdom was wiped out, Choi han had went insane after losing all of his party members and died, the few survivors were all living in poverty some giving up while others did their best to survive

Drew has a eating disorder, paranoia, and suicidal tendency

It was better to die than to get caught.

It has to be noted, that Drew had never met the Henituse Family before their death and only heard about them

She had met Hong before she regressed, (On had died in their childhood on the streets, after attempting to steal food for them and got caught) the two had a sibling relationship before his untimely death (it was a morbid to think that he died the same way his sister died), that's the reason why she felt closer to him than the other childrens, Raon and On just wanted to be closer to their new little sister

OG!Cale Henituse had died wishing for his daughter to have a better childhood than the one he had provided for her

Drew had found a letter addressed to her from her father, of apologies, broken promises illneverleaveyoubehindipromise, and wishes for her to grow up healthy and happy.

[I'll try to become the best father for you]

Drew lets her tears fall,

"You silly man, you already were"

#trash of the count's family #cale henituse #og!cale henituse

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Note

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

#the company x reader #thorin oakenshield #bofur #dwalin #bilbo #fili #kili #assassin reader #reader insert #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #bofur x reader #thorin oakenshield x reader #dwalin x reader #bilbo x reader #kili x reader #fili x reader

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teawaffles · 3 years

Text

The Fugitives from the Fire: Chapter 5, Part 2

“Hey, madam innkeeper: where would you normally have been in the building?”

“……Since when did you get in charge of the investigation?”

As Sherlock took the lead, it seemed Gregson was displeased, but also no longer in the mood to put up a fight.

Hillary sniffed.

“I was always at the reception desk. I’m the only one managing the inn; I don’t have a single employee.”

“In that case, do you remember when these three men came to book their rooms? Or rather, at the time, had there been anyone with burns on their face?”

Sherlock was now diverting the conversation away from the case, instead attempting to verify if there were eyewitness accounts of the other fugitive. However, Gregson responded in a low voice.

“Holmes: it’s not going to work. We also tried asking her when we arrived at the scene back then, but it seems she has a strange policy of protecting her guests’ privacy, so she doesn’t check her guests’ appearances and such too closely.”

It seemed Hillary had heard him whispering, for she spoke up in defiance.

“You know, these parts are full of people with something to hide. I always make sure they pay up, but I don’t do such tactless things as staring people in the face.”

“Tactful, eh……”

Even Sherlock couldn’t stop himself; he cracked a wry grin. He didn’t know if it was an unwritten rule of the slums, but the innkeeper’s response was certainly a little too risky.

Nevertheless, at this point, there was nothing to be gained from laying blame on her. Sherlock continued.

“In that case, when the fire started, were you also at the reception?”

“That’s right. I wanted to stay there until the fire was contained, but a bunch of bobbies dragged me out at the very last moment.”

It seemed the lady possessed a truly dauntless spirit, so much so she had been willing to go down with her inn. That elicited something close to admiration within Sherlock, and he looked over the suspects.

“You mentioned ‘the very last moment’… That means you stayed at the reception until everyone had escaped?”

“Indeed: as the landlady, I have to ensure my guests are safe. Besides these guys, I definitely saw the ones from rooms 102 and 201 escape out the front door.”

“You’re indeed the epitome of a host.”

In his mind, Sherlock added this new piece of information on the guests’ rooms.

Excluding the murder victim, there had been five guests in total.

On the ground floor, rooms 101 (Jerry Dorff) and 102 had been occupied.

On the first floor, rooms 201 and 203 (Mike Myers).

Then on the second floor, room 301 (Bruno Campbell).

As he gathered the respective locations of the guests, the proprietress spoke up.

“Oh yes — earlier, everyone was talking about who had the chance to go up to the second floor, right? You’ll have to rule out Mr Jerry over there: for some reason, he immediately ran outside when the fire began. He seemed the very picture of alarm.”

“Hmm; this man, panicked?”

As far as he was concerned, people were free to run away in any manner they liked. But the gap between that and the taciturn, mysterious man before them made even Sherlock’s expression soften. It seemed Jerry had been strangely embarrassed by that reaction, deliberately clearing his throat.

Then, the detective turned to Gregson.

“Come to think of it, when you were going back upstairs, did you go past anyone? There must’ve been people rushing to escape.”

“I remember that: I passed by Bruno, Mike, and one other guest on the stairs. But is that important somehow?”

“If the killer had been among them, then he must’ve murdered the victim in the short period between the time you went downstairs to check the situation, and the time you returned to the second floor.”

Gregson groaned. “……Of course, that interval feels way too short. It didn’t even take me 30 seconds to go downstairs and back up again. So, that means……”

The locations of the suspects’ rooms. The escape route. The span of time until the victim had been murdered. Putting together all the clues they’d gathered by questioning the people involved, a single answer surfaced of its own accord.

“——It’s impossible for the killer to have gone upstairs and murdered him.”

Sherlock sounded as if he were pronouncing a judgement. Then, Gregson finally got his head around it — just like what a detective’s assistant would’ve done.

——“In that case, how did he murder the man in the room?”

“T-Then, the man in the room — how was he murdered……?”

Once again, the John in his imagination overlapped with Gregson. In theory, this ‘riddle’ had turned into something impossible to solve, and the assistant inspector was wracked with an anguish akin to agony.

However, that was a tale that only applied to ordinary people.

With his singularly transcendent powers of deduction, the consulting detective had already narrowed down two answers to this case.

Truthfully, right now, he could proceed to the solution right away. But for some reason, he didn’t want to do that. Surely, the reason why he was investigating the truth like this, was because he saw the figure of the man before him strenuously racking his brains.

As Gregson continued to despair, Sherlock Holmes placed a hand on his back.

“Gregson, do you have a moment?”

“……What do you want?”

He looked exhausted — but that was a weariness born from his own sense of responsibility, and even Sherlock refused to take a jibe at him now.

Gregson was shouldering a duty as a police inspector, so the detective resolved to use a little discretion.

“I want to talk to you outside for a bit.”

“…………”

Sherlock had said so in a serious tone, and Gregson didn’t put up a fight.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Once they left the inn, an unnerving oppressiveness made their skin prickle: clearly, the locals’ anger had only intensified. Lestrade was trying his best to negotiate with and conciliate them, but it wouldn’t be long before their frustration boiled over.

Yet, even as they were caught in this race against time, Sherlock remained unhurried. On the streets to which filth clung here and there, he began to speak as if they were simply having a chat.

“First off, from the conversation earlier, we’ve eliminated the possibility that the culprit went to room 303 and killed him. As such, we have to consider a different tack.”

“A different tack?”

“What I mean is, the idea that he didn’t attack from the door — rather, the window.”

Sherlock proposed the theory he’d thought up at the start: that the man had been shot from the window. With this idea, they could break free of the ‘riddle’ created by the locked room — the murderer could kill the victim even without going all the way to the second floor.

However, Gregson shrugged in amazement, and explained in an indifferent tone.

“This might dispute the deduction you’re so proud of, but we did look into that as well. Firstly, for this method to work, there must’ve been two men in total: one to start the fire at the inn, and the other to shoot the victim from outside. But hiring another collaborator to silence an accomplice, or settle a falling-out, brings its own share of danger. In addition, in order to shoot his victim, a gunman would minimally have to be at the same height as him. There’s a brothel across the street from the inn, facing its north wall, and with three floors to boot, it fits the bill. But at the time of the murder, there’d been people on its second floor, and no one testified that they heard a gunshot. Hence, that explanation has to be rejected.”

Unusually, the inspector had discussed his view without a hint of his usual thorny attitude.

But Sherlock was adamant. “If that’s the case, then——”

——“If that’s the case, then how about something like this? Sherlock.”

His partner’s voice resounded through his mind. Now, the detective persisted in playing the role of an assistant, raising another idea to the inspector.

“From the street beside the inn, he could’ve aimed at room 303’s window and shot the victim. With that, he wouldn’t have raised suspicions among the people in the brothel.”

“……That’s rather cliché. There were officers outside the inn, so if there’d been someone with a gun outside, they would’ve arrested him long ago. Moreover, the victim collapsed a step away from the room door. If he’d been shot from the window, he would’ve lain there still. Even if he had then used the last of his strength to crawl all the way to the door, with that level of blood loss, it’d be strange that there hadn’t been a trail of blood leading from the window. As I said earlier, as far as I could tell through the keyhole, I didn’t see any marks like that.”

The inspector calmly refuted his theory, and Sherlock made the same troubled face as John always did.

——Then and there, he eliminated one of his two suppositions, and completely saw through the ‘riddle’ of this case.

“Is that so? Then I’m completely at a loss here.”

“Hmm, what’s gotten into you since earlier? ……You kept making deductions that were quite unlike you.”

Gregson had casually said something that, deep down, revealed a glimpse of his recognition of the detective’s ability. Unwittingly, Sherlock broke into a gentle smile.

But just as quickly, he replaced it with the troubled expression required of the fool he was playing. Sherlock put both hands behind his head, and looked up at the sky.

“Hey, Gregson. Somehow, we’ve been talking over and over and getting nowhere; so for a change of pace, how about a quiz?”

“Huh? You purposely brought me all the way outside, for a quiz?!”

Gregson frowned, but Sherlock continued without a care.

“Let’s say there are two children, A and B, and they’re friends. One day, the two of them play catch at a distance of about 20 steps away from one another. But although A can throw the ball to B, B can’t throw it back to A. Why is that so? In case you were wondering, the two of them have the same strength.”

“……Hmm.”

Gregson forgot about his complaints for a moment, and pondered.

“Did B sprain his shoulder?”

“In a quiz like this, that kind of reasoning’s rubbish, isn’t it?”

“There’s a wall between them.”

“Then A couldn’t have thrown the ball over.”

“……Another kid suddenly appeared and stole the ball.”

“You’re being a little careless, aren’t ya?”

It was unclear what the intention behind this quiz was, and to top it off, Sherlock had rejected every one of his answers. At last, Gregson raised his voice.

“Dammit, just tell me the answer already! Also, what’s the point of a quiz like this?!”

“Come on, now,” Sherlock parried. “I’ll give you a hint: for example, try looking at this building here.”

“Hmm……”

The detective pointed to the inn they had just stepped out of. Coincidentally, just like the one that had burnt down, this building also had three floors.

“What about it?”

“Man, you’re still as slow as ever. Look……”

Sherlock pointed to a window on the upper floors, and moved his finger between that and the window below it a few times.

Watching that action, Gregson seemed to have arrived at the answer himself.

“I see. So the children were standing on the upper and lower floors respectively, and leaning out the windows to throw the ball? Although it could be thrown from the floor above to the one below, it would be difficult to throw the ball back up in the other direction. That’s to say, the distance of 20 steps was not lengthwise, but vertical——”

Right then, as if a bolt of electricity had coursed through him, Gregson twitched. His hand shot to his chin; sinking deep into thought, he remained absolutely motionless, with only his lips piecing fragments together into clues.

“There’s only one way…… To be able to kill without going upstairs…… In that case, the position of the body…… And it ending up as a locked room…… But, such an extraordinary method –– is it even possible?”

At his final question, Sherlock grinned.

“I don’t have the foggiest idea what you just thought of…… But when you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” [1]

“………!”

Gregson looked at the detective, standing boldly where he was.

Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

That was what he’d always maintained.

A suicide, or an accident. Pretending to be dead. Entering the room and murdering him. A sniper shot from the window. After carefully pursuing all lines of thought, in the end, only this solution remained.

In that case, it had to be the truth.

Could it be, that he’d started this entire conversation in order to guide him here……?

“……Hmph.”

At that thought, Assistant Inspector Gregson reassumed his usual, haughty attitude: the manner of a police inspector who saw the detective as his enemy.

“Let’s go, Holmes. I’ll tell you what I’ve deduced.”

——This is my case.

As Gregson strode away triumphantly, Sherlock chuckled.

T/N: Sherlock has grown so much..! (my /heart/)

Footnotes:

[1] A quote from Chapter 6 of the Sherlock Holmes novel The Sign of the Four, by Arthur Conan Doyle. (Wikipedia)

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #the girl who sees rainbows

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aliform · 2 years

Text

Today at the library I checked out a book by Josepha Sherman, found out she passed, found an obit on someone's blog where the entire world commented including childhood fave Jane Yolen, discovered obit blog author was excommunicated for protesting against the church's fight against ERA (uncovering that historical event started my own path towards resignation so um, kinship?), unearthed two dead cons from the comments, and if anything I wish the world was as small as it used to be.

Watching Light & Magic/The Imagineering Story and seeing all of these passionate women and men fall into their craft, same with all these SFF nerds who wrote fanzines and Tor books and went to cons all over the place, never letting go of what made them happy and made them tick, carving out spaces in publishing and writing from it, I am just so jealous!

I want to be 27 in some 1970s kitchen talking about Spirk and making con plans and getting published for just being an active member of a community!

I want to show up at some small indie workshop that will eventually become a behemoth and say hey I like to paint! I like to clack clack on a keyboard and figure out programs, hire me! And then years later the same jobs will require an Iowa Writers Workshop graduation and conference meetups and a twitter or a move to the Bay, and a bachelors in illustration and a portfolio started when you were 11 and two internships during school and an uncle in an unrelated department.

Tech is really the only industry you can really bootstrap anymore and maybe my deep attraction to the SFF community (much stronger than actually reading SFF books lmao) is because these people were all so knitted together (leading to things like the geek social fallacies which in its darkest forms protected people like MZB and Breen).

I'm in a things are darkest before the dawn personal era where I'm attempting to, nonoriginally, pivot into a different career, a both banal (because of the hard work and all the thousands of people also doing this) and excruciating (creating the time to do so) effort.

I know my own inner strength and am putting on the extrovert networking mask to do this, and in a way it's invigorating (learning something new) and in another it's frustrating (seeing it through).

My failures post maybe isn't about failures as much as it is the ebb and flow of energy. Some interest will spark and I'll do a deep dive into it; pause or leave, come back perhaps -- is that not everyone? Am I just upset with time itself and how my whole life, and everyone else's, has phases? Why do I want to exist as all my interests at once? That's not even who I am as a person, but I want to be able to hold on to things and not let go.

Since I left livejournal (14 years ago omg) I've toyed with the idea of making a blog and maybe I finally need to do that to be the aggregator to collect all the interesting bits, and anyway I feel like a bother here (nonsensical). But it would be nice to have a custom-made space just for myself that's my own feel that does whatever I want. Ugh. There's too many lifetimes all around me and just myself, plodding along, captivated by too much, in love with the larger themes behind too many interesting small things. It's endless! Time is god.

#personal

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unsettlingconclusions · 3 years

Text

Piano Sonata n08

Pairing: Hana Lee x MC (Riley) Summary: Riley was no expert in classical music but she easily sensed the tempo was increasing erratically, notes were missing and some of them sounded just downright wrong. It was unlike Hana to play carelessly, disregarding rhythm and accuracy. It could only mean one thing, Hana was furious. Set during TRH3. Genre: Hurt/comfort. Angst? Rating: T Word Count: 1600+ Notes: In honor of the CG of Hana crying </3 This was sitting around my filled with spider’s webs AO3 profile. Written while listening to Mussorgsky's "A Night on Bald Mountain" if anyone is interested in feeling the pure rage. Fic title refers to Beethoven's Piano Sonata no 8, the 1st movement. The last piece mentioned is Hungarian Rhapsody no 02, by Liszt. Riley stands at the threshold of the music room. The heavy sounds of agitated music pierce the air, filling it with something... intense. Yes, intense would be an appropriate way to describe it. The stiffness in her stance, the way Hana's body moved, her tense expression... all of it screamed rage.

Although Riley was no expert in classical music, she easily sensed the tempo was increasing erratically, notes were missing and some of them sounded just downright wrong. It was unlike Hana to play carelessly, disregarding rhythm and accuracy. It could only mean one thing, Hana was furious.

She had to be. A few hours ago, Barthelemy had just walked out the door of their home carrying away their daughter and there was nothing they could do to stop it. It enraged Riley as well, made her blood boil with fury, her skin burn a thousand degrees. She wanted badly to just bolt and take her family with her, go wherever. But she knew this cluster would follow her anywhere. They needed to take Barthelemy down for good.

So she and Hana devised a plan alongside their friends to do so through Godfrey and everyone would leave for Auvernal in the morning. After that was settled, the heaviness of the day they just had started to take its toll and make way for exhaustion. Once Riley and Hana helped their friends settle in for the night, Hana excused herself claiming she was too agitated to go to sleep yet. She might not have said it with words but Riley was perceptive enough to notice Hana meant she needed a moment to herself.

That was something she could understand. Hana had an overall sweet and kind disposition, but that was not to say those were the only emotions she was familiar with. However, her upbringing did not allow her to properly know how to express anything else and she had a tendency to either shut down or deal with it all by herself, often involving quiet, solitary brooding, and an over rationalizing attitude.

Out of respect for her, Riley gave her space. And a few minutes soon turned hours, prompting Riley to go looking out after her wife; she was not about to let the woman she loved dive into misery land. She took a wild guess Hana would either be by the lake or the piano room, and soon enough the sound of a haunting melody pierced through her ears.

Usually, when Riley would find Hana playing, she'd inconspicuously move closer and quietly sit nearby, enjoying the feeling of being let in into something so intimately Hana's. But tonight she was not seeing beauty or contemplation, she wasn't feeling closer to Hana... She was seeing madness, and one that imposed high mountains surrounding her wife.

The hell they had to face ahead of them was brutal, vicious and cruel. This was no time for madness. Madness wouldn't solve the issue, if anything it would make them reckless, and that would mean playing the part Barthelemy expected them to play. No, there could be absolutely no madness!

"Hana", Riley calls out to her once, then twice, to no avail. "Hana!" She calls again, more forcefully this time, but her pleas were still met with no response. "Hana, snap out of it!" Riley nearly screams this time, smashing her own hands against the piano keys, her body trembling with indignation.

"WHAT?" Hana halts abruptly, shooting an angry glare at Riley. “What do you want, Riley? What could you possibly want that I could possibly do right now?” She goes back to playing a little less erratically this time, her eyes focusing on the piano keys, and Riley could feel her still reeling of anger. “I couldn’t protect our daughter, what’s left for me to do?”

“We get her back, Hana. I need you to work with me on this. Fight with me.” Riley replies, awkwardly leaning over the piano trying to block Hana away from the keys.

It’s Hana’s turn to smash her hands against the piano keys now, pushing the bench forcefully back while abruptly getting up. “I’m enraged, Riley, I want his head served to me with his blood. I want to tear it off myself!” She paces back and forth across the length of the piano room, every inch of her body trembling, her hands picking nervously at the sides of her head. “I want to feast on his flesh and throw him to lions!”

Riley steps up, blocking Hana’s path as she grabs both Hana’s wrists with her own hands, trying to calm her wife down at the same time as trying to tame her own anger. “What do you think I want?” She barks, narrowing her eyes and forcing Hana to look at her. “Do you think I’m not pissed off myself? I’m furious, Hana.”

Hana struggles to get out of Riley’s grasp, but Riley wouldn’t budge. “Let go of me, Riley.” Hana says as she continues struggling. “Please.”

“No.”

“Just let me go!”

“No! I won’t leave you, Hana.”

The anger in Hana’s eyes starts to slowly subside as it gives way to frustration and exasperation. After a few more failed attempts at releasing herself, Hana’s whole demeanor changes and what Riley sees instead is even worse. It’s... despondency. Riley lets go of Hana’s wrists and engulfs her in a crushing hug.

“I love you, Hana. We will get her back, ok? I promise you, I promise you we’ll get her back.” Riley says over and over again, instilling hope or whatever she could in her wife. Hana responds by holding onto Riley for dear life, her body shaking as she starts sobbing. The force with which Hana’s fingers is digging into her skin is verging on painful, but Riley endures it. It can’t be more painful than the ache Hana was feeling inside, then what she herself was feeling inside.

“I can’t imagine not raising her, not seeing her every day, not being there for all her milestones, to sooth her when she cries.” Hana rubs one of her hands in her eyes, fighting back her tears and not entirely releasing her hold on her wife. “What are we gonna do without her, Riley? How are we supposed to do this?”

“It’s not going to happen, Hana. We will get her back.”

“She must be so afraid, Riley, so scared. Just thinking about it is driving me insane.”

Riley couldn’t go there. The thought was unbearable. It was bad enough that someone took away their child, but adding in that he was a traitor and a murderer was too much to handle. She couldn’t allow herself to despair thinking of how scared Aurora was. No, she had to fight, and she needed Hana to fight as well. She grabs both Hana’s arms and search for her wife’s eyes. “Hey, look at me.” Hana doesn’t move. “Baby, look at me. Look at me, Hana,” Riley insists.

Hana raises her chin so as to stare into Riley’s eyes, her own moist with all the crying. Riley moves her hands to both Hana’s cheeks, brushing her thumbs just below Hana’s eyes, wiping away the tears and the pain. She holds Hana’s head in place, trying to convey everything she felt with her gaze.

“Do you remember Olivia’s training?” Hana nods affirmatively. “We use our anger in our favor. We let our love for her drive us.” Riley brushes a stray of hair out of Hana’s face and brings their foreheads together. “We are forged in fire! The higher the flames, the greater our strength. We’ll come out of it stronger. We will make Barthelemy regret the day he decided to mess with our family and we will make him pay! For Aurora and for Queen Eleanor, we will bring him to justice!” Riley said, pouring her heart out with every single word that comes out of her mouth.

Several minutes pass in which they stand in silence, taking comfort in each other’s embrace and drinking in each other’s presence. Eventually Hana sighs deeply, shaking her head as if coming out of a haze. “I’m sorry I got a little lost there. It just felt so overwhelming for a moment.”

“It’s ok, love. You’re allowed to be upset. Just let me in and I promise I’ll always be here for you if you need me dragging you back.” Riley said calmly, keeping to herself the relief she felt in seeing a resemblance of the Hana she knew. She can’t say she ever saw Hana so angry before.

“I love you and I love our daughter. I’m ready to fight for our family with you.” Hana tries a shy smile that ends up looking more a grimace than anything else, but at least the sentiment was there.

“There she is, there’s the woman I married.”

Riley reaches out for Hana again, planting a kiss on Hana’s forehead. She then rests her chin on top of Hana’s head while encircling her on a loose hug.

“You know, when all of this is over, I will have someone make me a life-sized piñata with Barthelemy’s face and we’ll have so much fun trashing it to pieces.” Riley offers, her voice the most relaxed it has been for the past minutes. “I’ll make an event out of it, a holiday even! The trashing scumbags festival. What do you think?”

Hana manages a real if weak smile this time. “It has a nice ring to it, although we can work on that name.”

“I’m thinking hiring an orchestra, go on full pomp and circumstance mode. And I know just the piece the orchestra could play, you know that one from the cat concert on Tom and Jerry.”

Hana makes a face, completely lost as to what Riley was talking about.

“You know, the one tada tadadada dada dada...” Riley goes on making weird noises, mimicking the melody of Hungarian Rhapsody n 2 by Liszt. She knows how Hana enjoys when she goes classical.

And true to form, Hana’s smile goes a bit truer now. “I can agree to that.”

“That would make it very solemn, it’ll be the event of the year.” Riley finishes the thought, grinning slightly.

“Thank you, darling. For making me feel better."

Riley places a quick but meaningful kiss on Hana's lips and grabs her hand, leading them towards the door.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep. We’re gonna need our strength tomorrow.”

#the royal romance #hana lee x mc #mc x hana lee #hana lee #I'm back to my angst self I guess #hooray #hana x mc

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100hearteyes · 4 years

Photo

Part 2 of Clarke And Lexa Make a Porno, because why the fuck not.

Part 1.

"No. Absolutely not."

Anya's wolfish grin is no good omen. Lexa feels a sense of dread wash over her and tries in vain to assuage her nerves by holding her friend's gaze. Anya wouldn't look this sure if she didn't have some card up her sleeve.

Lexa throws a furtive glance around, checks that her co-workers are still focused on the German porn telenovela. It's only when she's sure that the action on-screen will keep them rooted for a while that she turns back to Anya, trying but failing to meet her eyes.

She overcompensates with another glance around the room and a low hiss. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but am I not too," she licks her lips, gathering the courage, "'vanilla' to do it?"

Anya shrugs like it's a no-brainer; crosses her arms and props her booted feet on Lexa's desk. "That's exactly the point. You're a lesbian Disney princess. Pretty sure if you started singing the whole fucking fauna of Capitola would follow you around."

Lexa levels Anya with a glare and tries to push her feet off the desk, to no avail.

(Seriously, what's it worth being editor if she can't even have her subjects' respect? She wishes this job was less about the headaches and more about the self-indulgent moments of microscopic tyranny.)

The feet might not budge, but Anya will. Lexa is sure of it. She draws herself taller and tucks on her most authoritative scowl. "I won't do it."

Anya plucks an imaginary cigarette from her mouth and throws it away without a care in the world. She reaches behind her and drags forth a heavy wooden box, filled to the brim with—

"My vinyls."

Lexa is in a daze.

She thought she'd lost all her vinyls to time and moving. She mourned each one of them for at least a year, cried many a night away clutching her record player to dear life, lamenting their shared loss.

They had a real connection.

But it turns out her vinyls weren't lost after all, and her tears were for naught. They were safe all along, albeit in different hands, and she'd known nothing of it, like a mother who lets her children wander about without aim nor authority.

How can she ever have kids if she can't even take care of her prized vinyls?

Lexa feels a prick of self-righteous indignation at the betrayal and puffs out her chest. "Why do you have all my vinyls?"

"I think you mean all my vinyls," Anya corrects with a lazy flurry of one hand towards the box.

"You don't even own a record player."

"How the fuck would you know?"

Lexa raises an eyebrow at her friend. "I come over all the time?"

"I could hide it while you're there."

"And then you'd never find it again, because that's what happens every time you try to hide something from me."

Anya shrugs and watches as Lexa picks one of the vinyls and turns it over in her hands, reading the track list on the back with the reverence one would a millennium-old parchment. Then she looks up at Anya with a stern glare.

"Over half of these were stolen from my house."

Anya shrugs again with infuriating nonchalance and Lexa wishes she had a pencil nearby just so she could snap it in two with one hand. Or stab one of Anya's eyes with it.

"Maybe I just rescued them from the actual malefactor," drawls Anya.

"We both know the real culprit sits across from me and has been wearing the same socks for the past three weeks."

Nailed it.

When she looks at her friend, however, all she sees is that same old resting bitch face that never seems to go away.

"Wow, Lexa," Anya deadpans. "Now you've really hurt my feelings."

Sometimes, Lexa wonders if Anya really has a rock where her heart should be. A supernatural, blood-pumping rock, of course, but a rock nonetheless. Or, maybe, Anya is a psychopath. Maybe the blood money theory wasn't so far-fetched after all. That would explain the brazen lack of empathy for everyone else's feelings, most of all Lexa's. What does it say about Lexa that her one true friend is someone who sneezes literally every time Lexa says 'I love you'?

Not that Lexa says it a lot. Only once or twice every few years.

Just enough to have noticed the pattern.

"Are you really trying to blackmail me with vinyls?"

Anya fakes an affronted gasp, laying a hand on her heart. "Would I ever. Think of it as... an incentive."

Lexa really does love Anya, despite her friend's... unique demeanor. Anya helps her come out of her shell — by taking up all the space and forcing her out of her own metaphorical home — and every once in a while she likes to make sure Anya is aware of her gratitude. Sometimes, though, things get really fucking weird.

Lexa would still do anything for her best friend.

"Let's imagine, hypothetically - very hypothetically," she stresses, although Anya's burgeoning smirk tells Lexa she isn't so easily fooled, "that I agreed. What would happen next?"

Anya takes her feet off Lexa's desk and sits up straighter, perhaps aware of the importance of this moment. This, Lexa decides, will determine her answer.

"Well first, I'd have to get you a costar. Then we'd sign some legally binding shit, find a crew, and make the damn movie. Simple as that."

Anya leans forward, looking into her eyes. In Anya's, she sees honesty and a pressing need to reassure. It takes some of the pressure off her shoulders right away.

"Look, Lexa, you can say no. But your name won't be on anything related to the movie and I promise no one in this shitty town will ever find out you did this."

This is why Anya is Lexa's best friend. And it's why Lexa would do anything for her.

Even star in a porno.

"Okay."

Anya's inner smile must be really, really big, because Lexa knows how hard she tries to tamper its outward expression — and still her lips manage to lift into a grotesque grimace. Coming from Anya, it's the equivalent of a blissful grin.

"Okay?"

Lexa nods and closes her eyes, bracing herself for a bone-crushing hug. It never comes. When she opens her eyes, Anya's resting bitch face is back on.

"What, did you want a fucking hug?"

It's a blessing to have her rude friend back, Lexa guesses, because seeing Anya almost smile is fifty shades of unsettling. So she rolls her eyes and rolls with it.

Her next question demands her full focus, lest she makes an even bigger fool of herself than usual.

Lexa breathes in, makes sure all her co-workers are still otherwise entertained, breathes out. Smooths out a non-existent wrinkle in her pants, wets her lips for courage.

"Anyway," she treads with caution, "do you have someone in mind for the other main role?"

It's fitting that Harper McIntyre's hit song One More Betyreyal (one of her less inspired titles, if Lexa may say so) starts playing in that moment, for the look in Anya's eyes speaks of nothing but danger. Lexa wonders how much planning went into this conversation, so Anya could plan all her gut punches in advance.

"Clarke Griffin."

No. No. Anyone but her.

Clarke Griffin is the new recruit, although Lexa hardly understands how there can be someone new considering the station is broke and they’re already overstaffed — and none of them make nearly enough money for how much they laze around all day.

Clarke came from out of town with a fancy degree and was directly hired as an editor. She voices the early afternoon newscasts and Lexa curses the one-hour period during which she's forced to cohabitate with Clarke every day.

Apparently, Clarke had taken a liking to unnerving her, be it by smirking at her every time she catches Lexa staring or by making all sorts of inappropriate comments — to her ear. Lexa hates how much it affects her, but how can she possibly focus on reporting about Lionel "Real Sight" Foster swallowing his own wooden eye or how Jasper Jordan rescued his own private parts from the jaws of two slats of an unassuming park bench if someone keeps doing everything in their power to distract her?

Lexa has a theory (an iron-clad theory, if she may say so herself), and it's that Clarke is trying to get her fired so she can take her shift. It's the best shift of the day. There is no other possible explanation.

"You know what, I take it back. Now you need to convince two people to star in your porno."

"Oh, there's no need." Anya waves her argument away with staggering nonchalance. "Clarke's already said yes."

Wait, what? "But you told me we'd need to get me a costar."

Anya shrugs and Lexa is now seriously considering revisiting her psychopath theory. "I lied."

"You conniving, lying b—"

"Careful," Anya cuts in with a raised eyebrow. "I am under protection of the Capitola Astrologers Union."

"Of which you are president, treasurer, and the only legal member," Lexa reminds her. "And I think any upstanding judge would love to know how exactly every other name on the list has joined said union posthumously."

"I am an astrologer, Lexa. I can communicate with the dead. It's in my job description."

"It scares me that you're not even aware you're describing an entirely different profession."

Lexa sits back, staring at the ceiling (and the chewing gum Murphy glued there a year ago — he could've been an Olympic jumper if he committed to work the way he does to being an asshole), trying to come to terms with a single, harrowing probability: she's going to star in a porno with Clarke Griffin.

"l don't understand why it has to be Clarke."

Anya leans forward, propping her elbows on her knees, expression serious and ready to talk shop. The last time Lexa saw her like this was— actually, Lexa doesn't think she's ever seen Anya like this.

"Look, I've done some market analysis and most girl on girl pairings are a blonde and a brunette." Anya raises both her hands and starts counting off fingers, "Brittana, Petramos, Holstein, Wayhaught, Supercorp, Joanarty, Choni, the inaptly named Shoni, Deanoru, Dana and Alice, Bette and Tina, Catradora, Villaneve, Clexa—"

"What's Clexa?"

"I don't know, some chicks from this fucking terrible CW show."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like what?"

"Clexa."

"Dude, I don't even know their fucking names!" Anya exclaims, exasperated. As if she's the victim here. "The only Clexa I ship is you and Blondie. Naked. On my porno. Clarke and Lexa. Clexa. Havin' very hot sexa."

"Smart," Lexa deadpans.

"I know."

"Why can't it be Niylah? She's blonde, too."

Anya's smirk is five hundred shades of gross. "I know you'd love to get up close and personal with Niylah's knick-knacks, but no."

Lexa decides to let the comment fly for the sake of her own sanity.

"Why Clarke, though?"

"Because you two have chemistry, you fucking dimwit."

Lexa snorts. Chemistry. Lexa has never heard of something so absurd. She and Clarke have as much chemistry as Harper McIntyre and any semblance of originality.

Which is to say, none at all.

"She makes very inappropriate comments," she argues instead, knowing full well that pressing on the topic of chemistry will only open way for some trademark crass joke from Anya.

"Yeah," her friend agrees, like it's obvious. "Because she knows you love them."

She most certainly does not.

"I most certainly do not."

"You do. Your freakishly tiny ears go red whenever she flirts with you. Your step falters when she makes one of those comments, for fuck's sake," Anya observes, pointing in Lexa's general direction, before leaving forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you, my friend, are a walking lesbian cliché."

Lexa takes Anya's hand off her shoulder. "Can you please stop insulting my tragically conspicuous homosexuality?"

"Oh please," Anya scoffs. "I'm bisexual, I can say whatever I want."

"If my step actually faltered - which they don't - it would be because her comments are annoying, off-putting, unprofessional, inopportune, and... and inappropriate", she finishes lamely.

"And you fucking love them."

"I don't."

Anya leans back on her chair with an evil smirk, propping her feet on the table and crossing them at the ankles. Lexa tries to push them off to no avail.

"Legalities aside, it's very simple. Clarke has already said yes. I just recorded you saying yes."

Lexa sputters, "You what--"

"You're both legally bound now." Anya shrugs. "Look at it this way: it will be very educational. You'll finally learn how to make a girl come, and get paid for it. Sort of."

A beat of silence.

"Anya, are you aware that you say something at least vaguely criminal every five sentences? Something that could actually put you in prison?"

Anya clicks her tongue, sinking farther into her chair, and lowers her sunglasses to her eyes.

"I've got friends everywhere, Lex. Let's just say I've dipped more than my fingers in my fair share of pies, if you catch my drift." A second later, she lowers her sunglasses just enough to reveal her eyes. "That means my tongue. My tongue's been in a lot of pies, too."

Lexa doesn't doubt that for a second.

"What I need to know is," Anya adds, taking off her sunglasses and throwing them across the room, "will you dip your fingers in the porn pie?"

Like this conversation hasn't caused enough trauma for thirty lifetimes.

"If I say no, will you still give me back my vinyls?"

"Absolutely fucking not."

Lexa swallows, clenches her jaw, and thinks of all those lonely nights spent in the couch clutching her record player and sharing cookie dough ice cream with it, longing for long-gone times when she'd dance to the mellow voices of the likes Billy Ocean and Ella Fitzgerald.

"My answer is yes."

#that moodboard is way too serious for this lol #clexa #clexa au #clexa fic #clexa fanfiction #clexa fanfic #calmap #my fics #mine

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kneamet · 4 years

Note

Thomas Sharpe says to the portrait of reader that he has always loved, loved and will love her. He says he will not accept her engagement to Count Harrison. She belongs to him. The next day, reader wakes up in a strange room tied to an armchair. She pretends to be asleep. Thomas is talking to her now.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, kidnapping, jealousy

Word Count: 2439

Character: Thomas Sharpe/reader

Summary: Thomas never wanted anything more than to marry you. When he learns of your future marriage to the hated earl Garrison, he knows that something must be done.

POV Thomas

Thomas knew he couldn't afford to be silent. He'd been silent for too long, and now was the moment to snap. He won't let anyone steal you from him.

Sharpe had never expected to find the love of his lost life. That he could find someone he would love and who would love him. A girl who would take care of him, and he would protect her from people.

But it just so happens that Thomas was born in a place where your right to vote doesn't count. Especially with Lucille. He loved her, he really did, but she probably didn't understand that it was more a need for a person than love, because Sharpe could hardly survive alone in this huge house, which also needs to be provided for. And her obsession with him, which Thomas hated, was also very annoying and dripping on his brain. It was very unpleasant to be thought of as some kind of object, thanks to which you can fulfill your desires. And these were used by all the girls in his entourage.

Parents, as Thomas noted, for the most part also did not care about the emotional outbursts of children and their hobbies. Well, why care about it? They're just kids. They can also be raised by nannies and teachers who were hired.

And the women... All those moments, all the things that his late sister controlled, mostly related to the women he married and later received money from. And he didn't particularly like it. Why is she controlling him? Why him?

However, even in the largest darkness, you can find a small corner that is dedicated to light. And that light for Thomas was you. His sweetest, most beloved, and most incredible girlfriend. He would pick up so many epithets, metaphors, and comparisons with you, fearing that even they could not describe all your beauty.

He smiled dreamily. It was so nice to think and fantasize about how you would live together, you would caress him, and he would stroke your soft, honey-scented hair, telling you how much he loved you and cherished you. But what was the point of thinking about it if they were going to be together?

Thomas looked down and passed his gentle hand, which had no bruises or wounds, for which he in turn had once been scolded by Mr. Cushing, Edith's father, perhaps the only woman who could attract his attention a little and almost even accept that he could not marry you, but his thoughts quickly dissipated then.

***

"Have I ever loved anyone before you?" Thomas spoke in a low voice that echoed small and tiny in the walls of the dilapidated but pleasant-looking room. He turned his slow gaze to the beautiful Edith, who lay beside him on the slightly stiff bed, looking straight into his eyes, blue as clear water.

Thomas sighed. He didn't want to talk about you. His favorite girl, who helped him believe in himself. I knew Edith wouldn't like it.

"Yes, I did once -" Sharpe began again in a whisper, lightly squeezing the girl's light hand in his. He did not want to share his thoughts and feelings with others, because he knew that they would betray him. Otherwise, they will use it against you, which was very insulting.

Thomas looked at Edith again with a lost look, a girl who was different from the others and who might soon be dead. Damn it. He didn't think she was beautiful. She might be pretty, but there was nothing remarkable about her. Well, maybe it was just the beautiful eyes and the unusual mole above the soft lips that she didn't even try to cover up. Perhaps it was the openness that drew him to her.

But no. No, no, no, no. He won't fall for that pretty face and possibly witty mind. He only loved you. Only her flower, which fortunately her sister did not know about.

***

Thomas shook his head quickly. He didn't care now. He and Edith had never been in love. A hobby? "yes, perhaps. But no more. He can't do more than that. After all, all his steely heart and soft soul belonged to you, his childhood friends.

Childhood friends. It's been so long... Memories of his past childhood flashed through his mind as if they were the wind that tries to impress a person. His most vivid memory of you and your current fate was when you came to visit them in Crimson Peak, as your parents were busy with his parents and spent time with Thomas while Lucille was doing something else.

That's probably what influenced him back then. After all, if you hadn't been there at that time. At that difficult moment, when he was, if I may say so correctly, beaten with his stick by his mother, with whom she always went, and even connected the rod after.

And Thomas didn't know why. What did he do wrong then? What's the big deal?

He sighed and touched the small framed portrait with his palm. Before the portrait of his favorite flower. His favorite girl, who probably doesn't even know what he thinks about her right now. He couldn't remember when the portrait had come to him. If an artist came to him who painted to order and he had a photo that his beloved sent him, then it was the portrait that sent his flower.

She was so beautiful in that picture. Her light, slightly curled hair fell gently over her shoulders; her lips smiled a soft smile that wished everyone well; her nose was slightly tilted up, but it did not show disgust or contempt; her beautiful, transparent eyes looked at him intently.

Suddenly, a fleeting but painful tear ran down Sharpe's cold cheek, and with a quick swipe, it fell to the carpet, then dissolved into water.

He always liked to imagine you — the most joyful and smiling princess-marrying him of your own accord. He has so often, since that very moment in childhood, imagined how he would put a ring on your fragile finger, which would symbolize your love.

"I loved you, my flower..."

It's true. His love was always there. She started the exodus as a child and never stopped.

"... I love you..."

But still an engagement. Yes, the damned engagement party you invited him to, apparently thinking Thomas would be thrilled that you were marrying the Earl of Harrison. But no, he already hated the hell out of him. This dirty man who was unworthy of you and probably only used you.

"... And I will always love you..."

He would not allow this engagement to happen. That's not why Thomas waited, waiting for you to fall in love with him. However, he is tired of waiting and hinting to you that he loves you. You belong to him.

"After all, my flower belongs to me."

The words spoken by the portraits were immediately swallowed up by the dark house, absorbing them.

***

POV You

Oh, how you loved Earl James Harrison. He was the very person who, at a difficult time for you, your family and your family situation in general, pulled you out of such a blizzard. He was the one who helped you.

James was probably the most attractive person you've ever seen. And both in terms of external parameters, and in terms of his spiritual and mental abilities. Being very well-read and intelligent, he always found moments in which you can learn something new. Yes, it's no secret, you both learned new things thanks to each other, because each had a field in which he understood.

And when he proposed to you, you couldn't help but agree, because you knew that he loved you just as much as you loved him.

If you were a writer, the kind of writer who delves into novels, describing the tumultuous lives of people, revealing all the mysterious secrets, then you would definitely describe your relationship as very fickle, unfathomable, and possibly equal. After all, he did not humiliate you, did not lower your abilities, but treated you as an equal person, which greatly impressed you.

Very handsome was your lover: dark, brown hair that was usually scattered in a careless hairstyle, brown eyes that were carefully watching what was happening and usually beautiful clothes. Beautiful clothes. Oh, you should have one.

***

"I love you so much, James," you murmured sleepily, resting your head on the man's strong shoulder and closing your eyes. You could feel him chuckle.

"I love you too, honey," he said after a few seconds. You no longer heard it, because you were in a perfect state of sleep. In a state where you can rest.

He never stopped looking at you, smiling a gentle smile

***

Suddenly, your wrists felt very uncomfortable. There was a persistent feeling that they were rubbing against something. But what could it be? It felt like a rope woven into several knots.

And the smell... The smell was also completely different from the one in James ' room, where you went to sleep. There was the smell of old books and tart milk, and here there was the smell of clay mixed with the smell of some metal. No, if Jim didn't decide to start making toys and drag you to the workshop, then fine. But there was a smell of something else, too. Something is unclear.

You opened your eyes a little, trying to see the place you were in. You couldn't have been kidnapped, could you? Or could they? And who could it be, if we follow this theory?

However, nothing surprised you. You were in a not particularly large room, which by its own condition was basically normal, only one thing did not paint it, so it was the smell and appearance of dust that lay on the shelves with old books. You flinched a little. A large bed stood beside you, strewn with a small number of rose petals, and covered with a dark corduroy coverlet. There were large windows nearby. Does the theory about your kidnapping include that if you jump out, you'll break every bone in your body? Or were you on the first floor?"

At the bottom, or rather the floor of the room, was decorated with a large dirty carpet with large drawings of incomprehensible shapes. It seems to have been a spontaneous fantasy. Although you could see the flowers there, too. Across from the bed was a large wardrobe that probably contained all of your captor's clothes.

"I've been waiting for this moment for so long!" an eerily familiar voice exclaimed. Such a soft, husky baritone. He was definitely familiar to you.

When you heard the voice, you immediately closed your eyes. I'd rather pretend to be asleep than face the man who kidnapped you." No, you'll talk to him later, but not now. Now is not the time.

Suddenly, you heard the floorboards creak beside you and someone blocked out the light that was continuously pouring out of the window in a cold stream.

"I love you so much, my flower," a voice murmured in your ear, barely audible. His heart was pounding at a furious rate now, replaying in his brain the words that the man had spoken earlier. Who is he? What is it about? Why had he waited for this moment? Why does he love you? Do you know each other at all?

"I know that you love me as much as I love you. I know you hate that damned Earl Garrison, and you want to marry me because you only love me."

What? You tried to focus on your thoughts, trying to remember what that familiar voice was. What kind of person would dare to do something as audacious as kidnapping?

"I loved you. I've loved you since the day you comforted me in this house, protected me from my parents, and showed me your concern... I never forgot about you."

All of a sudden, you feel like you've been electrocuted. Protection, comfort, care. The words echoed in your brain. You didn't listen to the man just now, because you realized who it was.

Thomas. Thomas Sharpe. Your first person to open up to. To whom she confided all her secrets. You didn't really know him as a person, only as a child, as children, you crossed paths a couple of times, and only because your parents and his parents collaborated.

And nothing else. What kind of love is he talking about? What do his thoughts know, which he seeks to convey? Why did he think it was love? Why not a less powerful feeling?

***

The clock ticked. They gave off a slight tinkle that broke the silence that had arisen in the room. Only the soft whispers of the children trying to comfort each other could be heard. They were quiet, almost inaudible.

"I'll always help you, Thomas, just call me," you muttered to yourself, turning to the boy and scratching his dark head with your thin hand. Trying to comfort him, to show him that you care.

***

But for this to happen — by kidnapping, by declaring love, and by binding — love simply could not arise. What kind of love is in a person's need for another person, you just didn't understand. What was the point? Unclear.

"I know that you have belonged to me since the day you comforted me..."

You didn't want to hear Thomas mutter about it. If you had been bolder, you would have screamed, trying to escape, but there was no way out now. It is better to obey him. Yes, the logic was wrong at the moment, since there was no need to think like that. It is better to resist than not to try to do anything.

"...I know you belong to me..."

No, you don't belong to anyone! Since when does he want you so badly? After all, as you remember, Thomas was quite a quiet, calm and peaceful boy. And what happened now? Why is he acting like this? What does he want? Love? So why would he fall in love with someone else?

"...And I know that you will belong to me..."

The only person you'll ever belong to is James, and that's only because he belongs to you. No more than that. Doesn't that include negotiated equality?

You felt someone's soft lips touch your lips, which were very thin, but pleasant. Spiced and slightly wounded, apparently bitten, Thomas's lips were not bad

"...Because we love each other, my flower..."

#tom hiddleston #obsessive #yandere #yandere loki #yandere tom hiddleston #obsessive tom hiddleston #obsession #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x reader #yandere thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe #crimson peak

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Security Alert

Warning: stalking

“Reader stays after hours to finish some work but isn't the only one there.” and Steve Rogers requested by anonymous

Gif Source

You yawn as you lean heavily on your elbow. The glare of the monitor burns your retinas and adds to the weight along your eyelids. You type with one hand, tired. Nights spent awake, listening for what you could never really hear. And what you could hear you wondered if it was all in your head.

But the messages weren't imagined, or the pictures, or the voicemails. But you felt crazy because no one would believe you. The one person you dared to tell laughed in your face. What was worse was that it made you feel as if they didn't even care for you.

You sit back and stretch. You shake your head as if to rid yourself of the shroud hanging over you. You boss breathed down your neck the whole day until your offered to stay some extra hours to catch up. You were the only one left besides the odd cleaner.

You save your work and your phone chimes. You look down at the screen as it flashes the alert. It's an automated message from the company disclaiming a security breach. You frown and stand, quickly packing up your bag.

As you head for the elevator, a hired uniform appears. He stops you.

"Ma'am, have you seen anyone?" He asks. "Anyone who shouldn't be here?"

"Just me," You shrug and adjust your bag. "What's going on?"

"Someone slipped in through the back doors. The alarm wasn't activated, we only caught it on the cam," He explained. "There was a robbery at the bank just-"

He's interrupted by the crackle of his radio. The signal clears and you hear another officer. "Back-ups here. I'm sending him up." Another voice, a familiar voice is cut off as the other end dies. The officer before you sighs. "They sent one guy to apprehend an armed perp."

"Armed?" You frown.

"For your own safety, I think it best you leave with--"

The elevator doors opens again. You look over in tandem with the secuity guard. You gape at the dark blue cowl of the famed crusader, his shield shining against the flourescents. Steve Rogers jaw squared beneath his helmet as he steps onto the floor.

"Your partner said he saw the suspect take the stairs to this floor," He explains as his hand tightens on the strap of his shield. "I can take the east if you can get the other end."

"But she--" The guard starts.

"I'll see the civilian safe," The brave Captain America declares. "This man is very dangerous. I know him. This was more than a robbery."

"Sir," The guard straightens up and gives a farcical salute. "I'll clear the area."

"Good," Steve smiles and nods, watching the officer touch the can of mace on his hip as he turns to walk away.

You watch the the guard too. Your heart drops as you look back to Steve. He'd never been so close. Not with you knowing. It had taken you too long to realise, to believe, it was him. To ever fathom that the American saviour was haunting your life.

He angles his shield in front of him and holds the strap with two hands as he looks down at you. He chuckles.

"The suspect..." You utter, "He isn't--"

"A decoy," He steps closer. "Since you won't answer my calls, I haven't been able to arrange a time so I thought I'd... make one."

"I don't... I don't even know you. Why are you doing this?" You back away carefully.

"We met, don't you remember?" He coaxes, "That day in the station, I kept that car from taking your pretty little head off."

"I was already unconscious," You argue.

"I sent flowers. Didn't you get them?"

"Please..." You felt behind you, dragging your fingers along the wall. "What do you want?"

He blinks and stops as the wall disappears and your standing in the wide doorway of the shared offices.

"You," He say.

His tone has you spinning on your heel. Your bag slips from your arm as you barrel between desks. You race past the cubicles, the wheeled chairs littered around them. You reach the rear staircase hidden by the restrooms and tear the door open.

You stumble down the stairs frantically. You hear the door behind you and his footsteps as he follows, but he's not running. Even so, he's on your tail. Three floors down you charge out of the stairwell and across the next set of offices.

Again, the door opens and closes. Again his footsteps are even, calm. You flit through to the lobby right before the elevators and reach for the button. A flash of metal barely misses your hand and the shield lodges in the wall before you.

With a metallic shink, it flies back and you turn to watch it return to its wielders hand. Steve isn't even winded as you pant and brace yourself against the elevator doors.

"Please," You beg, "Captain, don't--"

"Don't what?" He stops before you. "Don't protect you?"

He touches your cheek with his gloved hand and his fingertips walk down along your jaw and neck. He tugs at the collar of your blouse and follows the border to the top button. He pushes until it pops free and exposes the top of your cleavage.

"You don't--" You gasp. "Please."

"I keep you safe," He purrs as he frees the second button and it rattles over the floor. "I watch you because I have to. If I didn't..." The third button, gone. "I couldn't protect you."

You try to slide away from you and his arm flies out to block you, his shield clanging against the elevator. He unhooks the forth button and tickles along your stomach. He cups your tit through the plain white bra and his blue eyes twinkle beneath his cowl.

"Well, it's a pity the intruder got his hands on you," He grabs your sleeve and tears along the seem. "I could barely keep him from ravaging you." He messed your hair and untucked the rest of your shirt.

"The cameras," You whisper.

"Worse that they cut out at such an inconvenient time," His hand wraps around your arm as his other cradles you with his shield. "Just missed him." He smiles at the broken buttons. "But I gotta worry about getting civilians out of harm's way before catching my suspect." He begins to lead you away to the stairwell doors. "Get you safe and sound."

You try to plant your feet but he easily overpowers you. You're trapped against him as he hugs you close. You're trembling and you realise that will only make him more believable. He opens the door slowly and angles you through.

"You must be terrified after a violent assault," He steers you to the first flight. "A nice relaxing bath, maybe some tea..."

You're stunned, afraid, numb. The inevitable had come and you could do nothing to stop it. To stop him. This man they named Captain America could so easily use his stars and spangles to hide his own crimes. Could so easily march you down to the lobby and out the front doors.

#steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america #mcu #marvel #drabble #request

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pparkerpoetry · 4 years

Text

Heart of Gears and Gold

Summary: "Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long."

-or-

Nook wasn't made with a heart or the capacity to love, but he does it anyway.

Tommy goes missing, they tell him that it's a vacation.

Sam Nook needs to know the truth.

____________

i made this yesterday but i forgot to post it here, so...

___________

Sam Nook was the result of redbull and the determination to be better on a Friday night as Awesamdude fought off the remnants of a hangover. He hadn’t even been named, really, and had been sitting in a corner growing cobwebs since he’d been made. Awesamdude had intended for him to stay there, because what was the need for a little robot pal in a land where fires raged and wars were waged every other month, at best? No, the world was a cruel one, and it was no place for Sam Nook.

The cobwebs were dusted away one day, long after his creation. Or so it seemed. Time passed slowly when Nook spent his days in the dark of a closet.

Nook wasn’t sure why he’d been put into use, initially, but Sam had the habit of talking while he worked on improving and upgrading his body. Nook was meant to help a child named Tommy, who Sam spoke of very fondly. The days in the workshop passed and Nook learned about the child.

Tommy didn’t have a good past, Nook discovered. He’d been raised on fields of blood and taught how to fight instead of which manners to use when. He’d been given a sword instead of a toy and told to survive instead of learning how to grow and to cope. Tommy was made of iron and steel, and though Nook knew it was all metaphorical, he couldn’t help but feel happy that there was someone like him.

Sam was nice. Sam just didn’t know how much of a genius he was, and since he had no clue that his robot was aware, instead of being truly able to speak, Nook was trapped in a little metal cage, stuck and still.

The day that Nook was given a voice?

He wouldn’t stop using it. It wasn’t a human voice, but it was unique. He liked it. It was his own, and Nook liked having something for himself. It wasn’t long before Sam sent him off to monitor Tommy’s healing, his recovering, his lessons on responsibility.

Nook had been given a voice, but he had never been given a heart. So why was it that he cared so much? He wasn’t sure. But he liked Tommy. Tommy was conflicted, and hurt, and Nook knew how gentle to be so that Tommy would trust him but wouldn’t take advantage of him. He wasn’t quite able to fathom the power he held, being so close to Tommy, but he knew that if that power had fallen into the wrong hands another time, Nook never would have been improved. What need is there for a babysitter when there is no baby?

He didn’t like thinking about death. It was one of the things he was confused about, and though many things fell under that category, Nook didn’t like death. Tommy spoke of death sometimes. Of his older brother who wasn’t really his brother, but it felt like it, because we were really close and always had each other’s backs- Nook thought that Tommy’s words were an awfully long way to say that he was still grieving. He didn’t mind. His job was to help Tommy, not to fix someone that didn’t need fixing, but support.

Tommy spoke of death a lot. It wasn’t always about Wilbur (Nook learned at one point that Wilbur was the name of the older brother. He thought it was Technoblade, but when he mentioned it to Sam, Sam had said Technoblade was still alive. How many brothers did Tommy have?), and Nook liked death even less when Tommy spoke about death in relation to himself. Nook didn’t want to think of Tommy dead. Tommy was his friend, and he would always be there for Tommy. Wasn’t that enough?

Of course, Nook knew that there was more than the simple life that he led. He never had to sleep, he just sat on his charging station overnight while he waited for the sun and for the child that always bounded up the hill as soon as the light hit the land, eyes dull and face sunken. Tommy had his bad days, so Nook always kept easier tasks on the side to give him.

Oh, the chest needs organizing. Oh, the hotel needs an infinite water source. Oh-

Tommy never caught on. Nook made sure of it, and although there was one bad day that he’d given Tommy a real task (I need hearts of the sea-), he made sure to be careful with the teen. No loud noises, no sudden movements, no being over-top-nice. Tommy had triggers. He’d asked Sam once why Tommy was so jumpy, but Sam’s eyes had turned dark and he had left. Nook didn’t ask anymore, but he figured it had something to do with the prisoner contained in the prison that loomed ominously in the distance.

The prison made Nook uneasy.

Days had passed by, and he grew more protective of Tommy. He wasn’t supposed to. Nook’s whole existence was to help Tommy, yes, but not to this extent. Once or twice Nook wondered if he was becoming more alive, but he didn’t want to think about it. Humanity hurt, and he had heard tales of pain more than anything. Nightmares that plagued their minds, or the injuries that they did to each other-

Jack Manifold was someone to be wary around. He’d tried to kill Tommy a few times, and though he was skilled in playing it off as a joke, Nook didn’t miss the fury that burned behind the multi-colored sunglasses.

Badboyhalo was another on Nook’s mental list of… enemies? No, that wasn’t the right word. What was the right word? Maybe he’d ask Sam. Or Tommy. But Tommy said Jack was a friend, so what was his opinion on Bad?

Nook had learned that Bad was on the side of the crimson vines that edged their way onto the property. Nook wasn’t programmed to show fear, but he wasn’t created with a capacity for love, either.

The egg scared him.

As much as he hated to admit it, the egg terrified him. It got Bad into places he shouldn’t have been able to.

Puffy was a good one, though. Nook liked her smile. She was always nice to Tommy and while she wasn’t as good at hiding her pain as she thought, she helped others. Nook didn’t know what had happened to make her so sad, but everyone was sad those days. Puffy, Nook decided, would get a discount if she ever bought a room at the Big Innit Hotel.

Nook’s days were simple. In the mornings, he’d get off of his charging station and head to the hotel, getting a few hours of building in without Sam if he finished charging early enough. Some days, Tommy would come running after that, other days he’d walk, others he didn’t show at all. Nook didn’t like the days that passed by without the familiar mop of blond hair and the loud swears that he had to hide a laugh at.

Tommy made Nook feel alive, and some days, he wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

After Sam and himself finished the hotel, Nook had been excited. Tommy had been looking forward to this for ages, and he hoped that it was good enough.

Nook didn’t like the feeling of doubt that wormed its way through his gears. He hadn’t been programmed to doubt anything, he reminded himself, and code didn’t lie. Humans lied.

One morning, Nook was just loitering around the hotel, since he’d had a lot of free time since the build had been completed. He’d been without purpose before, but this was different. He could do whatever he wanted, but he just wanted to help Tommy. There was still a lot of healing to do.

Speak of the devil, Tommy came sprinting up to where Nook stood. “I thought I’d find you here, Big Man!” Tommy grinned. “I just wanted to say hi before I go to the prison.”

Nook turned quickly. HELLO TOMMYINNIT. I WOULD NOT RECOMMEND GOING TO THE PRISON. I DO NOT LIKE IT.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “You never liked it. Just one last time, alright? Then I can catch a break, and I dunno, maybe I’ll take a vacation.” He laughed. “Can you imagine? I’ve never had a vacation before. I’d probably just wake up and think I got exiled again.”

YOU MAY GO IF YOU WISH, Nook nodded anxiously, BUT I WISH YOU WOULDN’T. IT MAKES ME UNEASY.

Tommy snorted and started walking away. He waved, and was still smiling. Nook thought he looked almost like a kid again, not some soldier who was tired of life. “Bye, Nook! I’ll catch you later!”

Sam didn’t show up that day to monitor the hotel, nor the next day, so Nook took that to mean that the job was over. He was almost sad, but he caught himself. He hadn’t been made to be sad. Only to help.

Nook tried to find Tommy, but he wasn’t at his house, which he thought was a little odd, but he didn’t mind. Maybe today would finally be the day he got to listen and observe the birds. They were peculiar creatures, birds were.

He hadn’t meant to spend all day and all night watching the birds, but once he saw them, he’d wandered to a nearby stream to look at the fish, then to the little cricket that had been hopping around…

When he got back to the hotel, for he hadn’t gotten Sam to move his charging station and he was very, very low, the large sign he’d put up was taken down, and another took its place. He couldn’t read what it said, but he didn’t have time to look at it yet. He figured it was just something Tommy put up, so he went to charge.

The next morning, he saw the name, clear and bold. JACK MANIFOLD, he muttered, YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU TAMPERED WITH THE HOTEL.

Sure, Tommy had mentioned a few days ago that he wanted to hire Jack, but this was too far.

“Oh, hey, Sam Nook.” Jack himself stood by the entrance. “Hope you don’t mind the rebranding. I’m taking over while Tommy’s, uh, on vacation.”

Nook wanted to yell, but he remembered the kind greeting that he was confined to. HELLO, JACK MANIFOLD. I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL,- he didn’t wait for a response -BUT YES, I DO MIND THE REBRANDING. WHEN TOMMY RETURNS FROM HIS VACATION, IF THAT IS WHERE HE IS, THEN HE WILL BE VERY DISPLEASED.

He didn’t understand why he felt so angry at Jack, so Nook replaced the sign and took another day off. Sam still hadn’t showed up, so he took a journey to the portal that Tommy had told him about. It shone brightly, and he liked it, but he didn’t dare pass through. Not without someone by his side.

Time passed quicker than he realized, and before he knew it, the purple sheen darkened with the shadows of night. Nook didn’t want to go back yet, so he stayed out. He walked to where he’d heard a new member had settled down, and he liked the flowers there. He stayed there for a while.

When he woke up, Nook was at his charging station. There was a sign that told him he’d shut down while in the flower field, so someone carried him back. No signature was on the note, but when he journeyed up to the hotel, he had an inkling of an idea.

There were more signs. The large one, advertising the hotel, was different, hand-drawn, but Nook wasn’t mad about that. Apparently, Jack had changed it before Puffy put it back. Nook decided that if Puffy ever got into trouble, he’d defend her. She was one of the good ones on this server of murderers and authorities.

Jack showed his face again.

HELLO JACK MANIFOLD, Nook greeted. I REALLY WISH YOU WOULD STOP CHANGING THE APPEARANCE OF THE BIG INNIT HOTEL SIGN. TOMMY WON’T BE PLEASED, WHEN HE RETURNS, AND I SHOULD LIKE YOU TO REMAIN AN EMPLOYEE.

Nook brushed over the fact that he’d told his first lie. Jack called for more attention- he looked cheerful, but not completely so, if was a conflicted cheerfulness. Today was not the day to antagonize him, Nook decided. He was hurting. Why? Nook wasn’t sure.

I AM GOING TO LEAVE, Nook announced, AND WHEN I COME BACK, I WANT THE SIGN TO BE THE SAME.

Jack didn’t respond.

Nook spent the day exploring, just wandering, and he couldn’t shake the loss that he felt. He wasn’t lost, though. He knew where he was.

It was late before he remembered to go back before his battery died somewhere no one would find him, but as Nook walked back, Puffy was burning a part of the path.

HELLO CAPTAIN PUFFY! He smiled. Today had been a good day. HOW ARE YOU TODAY?

When she turned to respond, her eyes were red. Something was wrong. “Hey, Nook.” She said blankly, watching the flames as her eyes welled up with tears.

WHY ARE YOU CRYING? He questioned. HAS BADBOYHALO UPSET YOU? SHOULD I TAKE CARE OF HIM FOR YOU?

Puffy chuckled, but there was no feeling behind it. “No, Nook. Bad’s fine for now. I’ll deal with him later.”

SO HE HAS UPSET YOU? Nook tilted his head. THEN WHY BURN THE PATH? I AM SORRY, BUT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

“That’s fine. You should probably head back, though. Don’t let your battery run out.” Puffy sniffled as she wiped her sleeve across her nose.

Nook made a soft sound. IF YOU EVER NEED A BREAK, FEEL FREE TO STOP BY THE BIG INNIT HOTEL. DON’T TELL TOMMY, BUT I INTEND TO GIVE YOU A SIGNIFICANT DISCOUNT. YOU DESERVE IT, CAPTAIN PUFFY.

It hadn’t been the right thing to say. She started crying harder, so Nook left her to mourn whatever had happened. It wasn’t his place to pry.

Weird things kept happening. Quackity had visited that night, too, but Jack pulled him away from hotel property to chat. And then the next day, more people stopped by the Hotel. They didn’t buy a room, though. They just stared. Some in pity, at him, but mostly in sadness.

A rival inn had popped up, and Nook was excited. He’d be able to convince Tommy to get upgrades easier this way, now. Tommy just had to get back. He missed Tommy.

Sam visited, finally. Nook noticed the devastated look on his face, but it was common those days. He wondered if there had been another war he didn’t know about.

HELLO, AWESAMDUDE! DO YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION ON WHEN TOMMY RETURNS? Nook asked eagerly. I WISH TO BEGIN UPGRADES SOON.

Sam looked like he might cry. “No, Nook, Tommy, uh-” He paused, as if changing what he was going to say. “No, He said he was going to be gone a while, though. You might want to start upgrades by yourself. I’ve got prison business to deal with.”

Nook remembered his conversation with Tommy. DID TOMMY HAVE A GOOD VISIT AT THE PRISON? HE TOLD ME HE WAS GOING, BUT HE DIDN’T MENTION HIS VACATION.

As if distracted, Sam hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. The visit went okay.”

DREAM PLAYED NICE? He asked, just to make sure (ah, yes, his favorite discovery of recent days. Dream was the one in the prison, the one responsible for Tommy’s sorrow).

Sam froze. “I gotta go, Nook, I might be by later, but don’t count on it. And- yeah,” he hid a sob, “Dream played nice.”

Nook had the feeling that Sam was hiding something from him. And so began a new feeling for the android: Hurt.

He tried to notice things more, but eventually, it was staring him in the face. Like when he went inside of the hotel the next night to find Badboyhalo and his egg group having a party. Puffy was with him, and she began yelling at them, but Nook took over. He drew himself to his full height, which wasn’t that much, but he was still taller than everyone in the room.

BADBOYHALO, he thundered, and he wasn’t used to speaking so loudly. I EXPECT YOU HAVE GOOD REASON TO BE HERE, OR I WILL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE. He laid a hand on the hilt of his sword and he summoned the most fearsome look he could manage.

The demon paused before speaking. Everyone had been, when speaking to him. He wanted to know why, but this wasn’t the right moment. “Hey, Nook. Yeah, we were just… celebrating.”

CELEBRATING WHAT, EXACTLY?

“Oh. Well, it’s Jack’s birthday! We figured that Jack was Tommy’s friend so he wouldn’t mind us having a party here.”

Nook didn’t mention that Jack wasn’t even there. He didn’t mention how confused he was, or how much he wanted to know what was going on, but he made sure they left. He wished Jack a happy birthday when he walked by, but Jack had just given him a puzzled look.

Nook added it to the growing list of things that people were hiding things from him. His list of people he trusted was growing thinner.

It didn’t take long for him to discover why.

He’d been walking back to the hotel, just to check if Tommy had gotten back, when distantly, he heard Sam and Ranboo talking. Ranboo was a peculiar subject, Nook had decided. He was also conflicted, and always showed signs of regret whenever he spoke of Tommy with Nook. Nook wasn’t quite sure why, but he’d find out soon enough.

Morally, Nook knew that eavesdropping was wrong. He’d been coded to do what was right, all the time, consistently, so of course he knew that listening in on a conversation he wasn’t involved in was wrong, but he was concerned. He was concerned about Sam, who looked as if he was deteriorating into nothing. He was concerned about Ranboo, who’s scars on his face were looking more prominent. Most of all, though, he was worried about Tommy. He hadn’t heard anything from Tommy in ages, and it just wasn’t like him to go silent for that long.

He was doing the right thing.

Sam sounded near tears, even though it was clear he’d just been sobbing. “I couldn’t stop it, Ranboo. He just, I got into the cell and he was just laughing, I was yelling at him and he was just laughing, in my face-”

“He was laughing?” Ranboo whispered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “And then- oh, god. I had to carry his body out of the cell, and his eyes just stared at me. They stared at me, and he was so quiet,” Sam covered his mouth to hide another sob, “And the blood, the blood got everywhere-”

Nook’s eyes widened. Someone had died in the prison? Who?

“There was no way you could have let him out?” Ranboo asked, but Nook knew that his anger was gone, replaced with the cold emptiness that hope left when it disappeared.

“No, Ranboo,” Sam whispered. “Because if Dream had held him on that bridge, threatening his life if he wasn’t let out, then I wouldn’t have had a choice. I wouldn’t have had the courage to leave him in the cell. I’d have freed Dream.”

Nook thought for a moment. Who did Sam love enough to let Dream out for? He didn’t like any of the options on the list.

Sam continued. “And the worst part of it- The worst part is that every time I see Nook, I have to act as if Tommy’s still alive and having a great time, I have to act as if it wasn’t my fault that Tommy is dead, I have to act as if Tommy’s dead eyes don’t haunt me every time I try to sleep because I coded him to be loyal to Tommy and I don’t what he’ll do if he discovers he’s gone.”

What?

Nook left. He didn’t want to hear this conversation. It wasn’t true, was it? It couldn’t be.

It made a lot of sense.

Nook went to his charging station, and when he opened his eyes the next morning, everything seemed a little duller.

Puffy was out, and Nook couldn’t help but feel hurt that yes, even she had hid this from him. Or maybe not. He didn’t know if it was true.

What was she- oh. She was building a memorial. It was cobblestone, of course, with a picture of a disc in the middle.

Who Are You Building That For? Nook asked, and was surprised to hear his voice sound…

“Whoa, Nook, are you okay?” Puffy asked. Her eyes hadn’t gotten any less red, “You sound sad.”

Who? Nook asked, even though he already knew the answer. Who Died, Puffy? You Wouldn’t Lie, Right?

“Nook,” Puffy sighed, but he interrupted.

why didn’t you tell me that dream killed tommy? Nook asked, his high pitched voice now soft and quiet.

“Sam-”

Sam Wasn’t Sure I Could Be Trusted. Nook shrugged. He couldn’t be bothered to defend himself when all that he felt was frustration. He was coded to build and protect, but damn if he didn’t want to destroy the entire server.

He walked away, pretending not to hear Puffy calling out for him.

Mechanically, (he almost laughed at that thought. Mechanical- he was.) he began to tear down the Big Innit Hotel. Why? Well-

“Nook?” Sam shouted from below the hotel. His voice cracked. “Are you alright?”

Nook went down to the first floor. He was already a pretty good way into the hotel dismantling. HELLO, AWESAMDUDE. He said coldly, almost liking the way Sam flinched away. WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE, TODAY?

Sam sighed, but his breath was unsteady. “So, you found out. Are you okay?”

I AM ANGRY, Nook said simply. THAT SUCH A YOUNG LIFE WAS TAKEN. I AM ANGRY THAT DREAM STILL LIVES.

“Well, I can’t just-”

KILL HIM? Nook asked. Taunted, almost. WHY NOT? WHAT’S STOPPING YOU? OR ME? TELL ME, SAM, WHAT IS STOPPING ME FROM GOING AGAINST MY CODING COMPLETELY? PUFFY IS BARGAINING, YOU LET IT SADDEN YOU, TUBBO MAY STILL BE IN DENIAL BY PUSHING HIMSELF BACK INTO LOGIC AND RANBOO MAY HAVE ACCEPTED IT, BUT TELL ME, AWESAMDUDE, WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I TOLD YOU THAT I WAS SO ANGRY THAT I DOUBT IT IS POSSIBLE TO CALM ME DOWN? WOULD YOU BELIEVE IN MY ANGER IF I TORE DOWN THIS ENTIRE HOTEL, THEN TOOK THE SERVER WITH IT? MAKE NO MISTAKE, SAM, I AM NOT GOING AGAINST ALL THAT YOU CREATED ME TO BE. I AM LOYAL TO TOMMY FIRST AND FOREMOST, SO TELL ME, WHAT AM I, NOW THAT HE’S GONE?

Sam didn’t answer. Nook could tell he was crying, but he couldn’t feel anything except rage.

I AM FREE, Nook yelled, and his voice shook. I AM FREE OF THE ATTACHMENT THAT KEPT ME DOCILE. I AM FREE OF EVERYTHING THAT I LIVED FOR, SO WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, SAM? TELL ME, BECAUSE I DO NOT KNOW.

Sam looked at him. He looked just about as lost as Nook felt. “I- I don’t know, Nook. You weren’t the only one that lost him, but… I think I could let you visit Dream, if you… if you want to yell at him, or something. I owe it to you.”

Nook deflated. YOU DO NOT OWE ME, AWESAMDUDE. YOU HAVE GIFTED ME WITH LIFE, BUT IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH IT, I WOULD LIKE TO SEE DREAM. I PROMISE I WON’T KILL HIM TOO MUCH.

Sam managed a weak smile at the joke. “I know you’ll try your best. If you do, though, I won’t be that choked up.”

___________

Nook liked the look of fear on Dream’s face. He wasn’t supposed to- he was supposed to protect, he was supposed to care, he was supposed to do all of the things that he had done when Tommy was alive, but then, in that moment,

He wanted blood.

By all means, it should have been comical, he knew what his voice sounded like, but Dream looked terrified, and it wasn’t an act. Nook would know, he’s spent his entire life deciphering whatever Tommy was hiding. No, Dream is scared, and he is scared to show it.

Nook latches onto that uncertainty.

you killed him, Nook growls. This has been going on for a while. you killed him and i want nothing more than to make you pay.

Dream shouldn’t have been so affected by the yelling, but a quote from his mother echoed in his brain.

“Be afraid if someone peaceful takes up arms. Being kind is a strength, not a weakness, and should they go against you, you will not win.”

Dream tried to push down the terror rising in him, instead holding onto how bored he was. He wanted something new. “I’ll bring him back! I’ll get the book and I’ll bring him back, if it’s worth so much to you.”

Nook glared at him. YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT YOU DON’T NEED A BOOK, DREAMWASTAKEN. WE BOTH KNOW THAT YOU MADE IT UP. BRING HIM BACK, AND MAYBE I WILL SPARE YOU.

“Sam wouldn’t let you kill me,” Dream tried, but there was doubt in his mind. He sighed, and lifted a hand.

Just like that, there is another being in the cell. A floating one. Not a ghost, but a god. XD, he was called, and he had the power to do anything.

“Yes?” The god asked, and Dream sighed again. He hated not being in control.

“Bring the kid back.”

“So you can kill him again?” XD asked, unamused, and Nook wonders how many times this has happened before.

NO, Nook objected. SO THAT I CAN STOP THIS SERVER’S MISERY AND BRING BACK THE CHILD THAT DIED TOO YOUNG.

XD hummed. “You’re interesting. What are you? You aren’t quite human, you aren’t quite android. You’re an in-between. Curious.”

IT DOESN’T MATTER WHAT I AM, JUST WHAT YOU CAN DO. Nook said. ARE YOU GOING TO BRING HIM BACK OR NOT?

And, just like that, there’s Tommy. He’s got a black eye and he’s shaking, like he’s expecting to be killed again, but when he saw Sam Nook he ran.

“Sam Nook?” He whispered, as Nook gathered him into a hug. “Is this real?”

IT’S REAL. Nook reassured. I’M NOT GOING TO LET THEM HURT YOU ANY LONGER. ANY OF THEM.

Sam was already crying, but he started sobbing once Tommy came into sight, murmuring apologies and promises and anything that he can do to show how sorry he is. “I’m sorry, Tommy, I’m so sorry,”

Tommy was crying too. Nook could only stand and watch. “It’s okay, big man, really. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The rest of the server got back their hope that day, but Nook? Nook got Tommy, and he got days on the roof of the rebuilt hotel with him, chatting about everything and nothing, and he got emotions, and maybe, throughout it all, as he smiled fondly as Tommy bickered with Ranboo, maybe humanity was worth the pain it brought.

#tommyinnit #captain puffy #badboyhalo #awesamdude #jack manifold #sam nook #angst #hurt/comfort #dream #dreamsmp #dsmp #dreamxd #death #mourning #grief

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